❝ You make this messed-up world look so much more beautiful. ❞ Gathering me in his arms, he pulled me close -- his lips seeking mine hungrily.
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The only thing Summer Hale has ever wanted was to live peacefully away from her secrets...
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Always thought I was losin' the race Lookin' for love in all the wrong places Really don't know how we made it here Never thought I was worth what you give — Midnight by Alesso
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The chauffeur dropped me off at Gray's lake house, and I wasted no time in sprinting up the stairs to the bedroom.
Gray was sprawled shirtless on his bed with an arm tucked under his head. I dropped my bag by the foot of his bed and sat next to him, pulling my legs up as I reached to touch his cheek. A gentle smile adorned his features, and I let out a breath. My eyes traveled down his upper body, my heart aching at the sight of the blues and purple that colored his stomach.
"How did you know I was here?" he asked, the boyish smile still etched on his lips. "My father leaked my location, didn't he? Traitor."
"It's not funny, Gray," I complained in a whisper, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. "Do you have any ointment I can apply to your bruises?" I asked.
His eyes fluttered open and met mine as he opened his other hand with a round container sitting on his palm. "I would've done it myself after taking a shower, but what are girlfriends for, right?" he grinned playfully.
I grabbed the ointment from his hand, keeping my expression nonchalant. Then I twisted the cap open and dipped two of my fingers inside.
"How long have you been waiting?" I asked.
"I'm not sure. I passed out after changing."
I nodded quietly, my gaze strolling over his face absently. It was untouched; there were no scratches, no cuts, no bruises, nothing. As I lathered the cream across his bruises, I shared what Gerald told me. I started with his childhood years then transitioned to the story of Leonardo Vellucci and Princess Amelia. It was a love story, I noted in between. Gray's eyes remained fixated on me while I kept mine on his stomach. Occasionally, when I pressed my finger too hard, he would cringe and curse under his breath. He should know that I was upset seeing him like this.
Once I finished applying the ointment, I secured the lid and placed it on his bedside table before lying down next to him. He slipped an arm under my head and pulled me closer. Heaving a sigh, I pressed my palm above his heart. We were quiet for a long moment as I stared far into space while his fingers lazily brushed my arm.
