Shattered Asylum

Chapter 53

I wake to the soft tickling of fingers tracing along my back. A quiet moan escapes my lips as I stretch my arms above my head, muscles loosening from the lazy sleep.

Blinking against the dim light, I rub my tired eyes and glance around the darkened room. It's still nighttime.

My gaze shifts to Grayson, whose big brown eyes are fixed on me, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"What time is it?" I croak, my voice dry and scratchy.

"Almost one," he replies, sitting up. His hair is a mess, and he rubs his face with one hand, looking as groggy as I feel.

My brows lift in surprise. "I'm shocked we're awake right now."

"This bed is awful," he grumbles, scrunching his face as he stretches, trying to pop his back.

"Oh, really? I was sleeping like a baby," I say, glancing around the shed. My clothes are scattered everywhere, tossed haphazardly in the heat of the moment.

"Probably because you took up most of it," he chuckles, scooting to the edge of the bed.

Oops. I've been told I'm a bed hog more times than I can count.

I stifle a laugh, but it dies in my throat when I catch sight of Grayson's back. Scratches, long, angry red lines of varying depths, crisscross his skin, starting at his shoulders and trailing all the way down to the dimples of his lower back.

My hand flies to my mouth. Oh no. I didn't realize how hard I was holding onto him...clinging for dear life, apparently.

I clear my throat, debating whether I should say something. Would he be mad? It looks painful, and I can't imagine he doesn't feel it.

Guilt gnaws at me the longer I stare, some of the marks deeper than others.

"I think someone attacked your back," I blurt, wrapping the blanket around myself as I get up.

He glances over his shoulder with a smirk. "I wonder who," he teases, standing to his full height.

I busy myself picking up pillows and blankets that had fallen off the bed, pretending to look for my bra. "Whoops," I mumble, stealing a glance at him as he moves.

I've always wondered how guys are so confident being naked. Sure, he say every inch of me just a few hours ago, but there's no way I'm walking around fully exposed.

My cheeks burn at the thought of it, especially when my gaze lands on his absolutely perfect ass.

The memory of what we just did hits me like a freight train. Heat rushes to my face, and my insides turn into a giddy, mushy mess. I shake my head, forcing myself to focus on finding my clothes instead of... him.

"Think everyone's still awake?" He asks, pulling on his underwear with maddening ease.

"Probably," I say, clearing my throat and trying to sound normal. "Knowing them, they just started to the movie."

He chuckles. "Bet they argued for an hour over which scary movie to watch, then fought over who gets the good part of the couch."

Most likely," I laugh, shaking my head at the thought.

I finally find my bra and start putting it on, letting the blanket drop. That's when I feel it. His eyes on me, watching.

I glance over at him. His expression is unmistakable, intense, hungry, and entirely unapologetic.

"It's not polite to stare, you know," I tease, trying to keep my voice steady.

He hums in response, taking a slow step toward me. Before I can react, his hands grip my waist, and I let out a surprised yelp as he lifts me off my feet and tosses me back onto the bed.