CHARLOTTE
I fling my arm and smack Gray's neck as I wake, momentarily terrified by the sight of his black eyes staring down at me. Who the fuck does that? I don't think he understands how many of his demonic traits are used in human horror films.
Gray hardly flinches as my hand makes contact with his throat, the only change in his expression being the slight widening of his eyes.
"How long have you been staring at me?" I groan.
I refuse to feel regret for last night as Gray smiles and hooks his leg over my waist. I had fun, and there's nothing wrong with enjoying his presence. He's kind and treats me well.
His eyes don't hold the sexual malice they did after the first time he fed on me, and my heart blooms at the knowledge that he isn't going to humiliate me as he did before.
"Why did you hit me in the throat? You said I could sleep in here," he says, ignoring my question. "Do you remember that? It was seconds before you ripped my fucking nipple off."
His voice lowers as he brings up my attack on his chest, his eyes narrowing before sliding to the sheet that covers mine. I fling my arm over my breasts in a panic, scared he's going to take revenge for my attack. Instead, he laughs, his eyes lighting up at my reaction to him.
"I was only looking at you for a few minutes." He finally answers my earlier question. "Stop being so weird."
My jaw drops. Does he really think it's me who's being weird? He must be joking. Gray smirks, confirming my thoughts. I'm on my side, and I watch as he lies on his back and turns his head toward mine. I take a moment to look him over, scanning every bit of him in search of any telltale signs of hunger.
My face warms as I find none, a feeling of pride seeping into me as I see only filled-out cheeks and bright eyes. He looks good.
Gray's smile wavers, and the sheet covering us moves just seconds before I feel his fingers touching my palm. I'm sure my cheeks are red as he entwines his fingers with mine, our palms pressing together. The handholding feels more intimate than anything we did last night, and it makes my heart flutter at an embarrassingly fast pace.
"Is there anything about last night you want to talk about?" he asks.
I shake my head, declining the offer. I appreciate that he's opening the conversation, but I'd rather have the world swallow me whole than speak about the things we did in my dream.
"Is there anything you're upset about? We don't have to go into detail, but I'd like to know if I went too far at any point." Gray's apparently not accepting my no as an appropriate answer. "We need communication if this relationship is going to work."
I want to ask about our relationship, but fear of the answer keeps me silent. Am I his girlfriend? The thought frightens and excites me at the same time. Gray's been so kind and patient with me, and I wouldn't be upset to have a label. Especially the one of girlfriend.
Do incubi even have relationships like humans? I know there was a female he loved once, but that was a long time ago. My heart aches as I consider the possibility he doesn't feel any emotions for me beyond lust.
I work up the courage to ask, but as he tightens his hold on my hand, I chicken out and push the words back down my throat. I don't think I can handle the disappointment that comes with being told he doesn't share the same feelings I do.
"I'm not upset about anything. I liked what you did," I say instead.
"Even the butt thing?"
My eyes narrow, and after a moment, I shrug. "It was unexpected, and I don't think I'd like it to happen again without warning, but I'm not mad," I admit. "It felt good."
