tricks of time ― grayson hawthorne [the inheritance games]

023. I WAS ALL OVER YOU

I freeze at his words. My body is ice cold and I'm numb all over. "You don't love me, Grayson," I tell him. But suddenly he's found me and his grip is strong enough to keep me rooted in place but soft enough to make me shiver.

His fingertips are moving up my arms, his touch so light as he brushes the tips of his fingers up and down my arms my nerves blare through me. His fingers slip under the straps of my shirt, and it's tearing me apart, aching in my core, a pulse pounding through every fiber of my body, and I'm trying to keep from losing my head. I can't do this.

The air is quiet.

The wind is rushing.

My skin is trembling.

Even my thoughts are whispering like spirits floating through the wind.

Then I feel his lips on my shoulder; so warm, hot, and sweet; so gentle I think it's the kiss of the wind and not a boy's.

Then it happens again.

This time, his lips are on my collarbone and I feel as if I'm dreaming, and suddenly I'm reliving the shadow of James and how rough he was and then it's back to Grayson's soft, gentle touch. It's almost like a forgotten memory and it's like an ache looking to be soothed. I hold back a gasp and my head falls back so that I'm looking up at the star clad sky. Yet then I remember his mouth is on my body and I'm doing nothing to stop him.

He pulls back. My eyes refuse to open.

He moves closer and I don't realize we're only inches away from each other. He draws the contours of my mouth, all of the curves, seams, and dips. I don't even realize I'm leaning into him and breathing in the scent of his neck because I can feel him getting closer and closer until all that is left is him, his body heat, the scent of fresh soap. It's a sweet smell: perfect lillies. I don't even realize I'm leaning into his neck until his hands move from my face to wrapping around on my waist. I'm trying to find a reason to hate this moment but I can't.

I feel like I'm melting in his arms. All of me.

His chest, heaving harder this time. His words, almost  gasping this time; just a whisper of the words. He's barely speaking at all, but I feel like my whole body is on fire and that he's igniting all of me. He says, "I want you. "I want all of you," he whispers. "I want you to love me as much as I love you, inside and out." I don't know what to say to his words.

"You said you wanted f-friendship-"

"I want a lot of things," he whispers. "I want all of you." His fingers graze the hem of my top and then waist of my pants and I shiver. The tips of his fingers are on the sides of my body and says, "I want every second of you. Every inch of you. I want all of it."

"Grayson-"

I can't think.

I can't breathe.

His chest is heaving, his words are breathless, shaky whispers when he says "I'm so- I'm so desperately in love with you, Leah."

I'm trying not to respond to him, to his words, or to the pain in his voice, but I can't seem to stop my body from doing so. I'm anchored to the ground, spinning while standing, dizzy in my blood and in my bones, and I'm breathing like I'm the first person to ever learn how to fly. His words are hypnotic. I can't think when he talks like this. Every nerve of me; every thought through my brain; my whole body- stops working when I hear him.

He moves closer, just an inch. His free hand reaches up to cup the other side of my face.He's holding me like I'm made of feathers. His hands are shaking, just a little bit,just enough for me to feel the slight tremble against my skin. Gone is the boy with the cold words and the hatred in his closet. These hands holding me have never hated anyone. These hands are perfect and kind and tender.