"Kingston—"
"I'm really sorry baby. It's all my fault."
"No, Kingston—"
"It should've been me, and with your parents...I couldn't protect you."
I wince slightly at his words, touching his cheek with my hand gently "No, Kingston listen—" he shakes his head, his gray eyes filled with guilt.
A sharp pain rips through my shoulder and a whimper leaves me. The burning pain spreading through my shoulder like wildfire, a sharp sting registering.
His eyes flash and his hands cup my face "Baby, baby, what's wrong?" He asks, his soft voice coated in worry.
He hasn't left my side since I woke up to his voice telling me all about our future he has planned out. And I couldn't be looking forward to the future any more than I already am.
The future is so bright with Kingston in it.
The one time I seen the entire Grey family cry was a few hours ago. Kingston gripping my hand, telling me he loves me, tears trailing down his face.
I can't get rid of the sound of his raw voice, cracking and crying. His hair was messy, his eyes red and streaming with tears.
He's helped me into the car, carried me up the stairs to his room, picked out my clothes for me, told me he'd change me and brush my hair so I wouldn't hurt my shoulder.
And he did all that. Kissing my neck and good shoulder, rubbing his hands along my stomach, telling me how beautiful I am, how too damn brave I am. How sexy. How lovable.
I instructed him on how to put my hair in a neat ponytail, and how to braid my hair. In the end he said he would learn to French braid some day, so if we have a daughter he can do her hair while I sleep in.
This man has my heart.
Kingston shuffles closer to me, his gray eyes swirling with concern "What's wrong amor? Is it your shoulder?" He asks softly, his thumbs rubbing my face gently.
I nod and his eyes gloss over "I'm so sorry. It should've been me, I should've pulled you behind me, anything. I'm supposed to protect you—" his guilt filled voice makes my heart clench.
I can't imagine how he feels right now. I would've taken a gun and shot myself if Kingston would've gotten shot. Just so I can feel his pain.
"I love you." I randomly blurt and he pauses, looking over at me and blinking confused.
My chest heaves with a sigh, "Sorry, it's the only way I could stop you from apologizing more for something I would do a thousand times over again." He shakes his head at me, rubbing a hand over his face "God. I love you too goddamn much to lose you." He whispers, snuggling his face into the right side of my neck.
My heart thumps against my chest as I lift my hand gently, dragging my fingers through his hair "I know, I feel the same about you. I love you Kingston, and that's not going to change. I'm not leaving you so take that thought and shove it up your ass." I whisper to him, my lips touching his ear.
He sighs gently, trailing his hands down to my hips and slipping the warm skin under the soft fabric. His fingertips dance over my skin, gently tracing random patterns along the skin of my hips.
"Can I get your handprint?" He asks hesitantly. I blink at him, what he told me in the hospital replaying in my head. An idea pops into my head "Can you give me yours?" He nods, slipping off the bed.
He straightens, reaching across the bed and scooping me up into his arms, holding me close and tight, but soft and comforting.
His touch stays far from my shoulder as he carries me to the door of his room. He gives the door a little tap and a hand pushes the door open.
Kingston nods to the lady who opened it and continued his way through the hallways. I close my eyes, getting lost in the sway of his strides and warmth that radiates off his large body.
Being in Kingston's hold is like eating the warmest comfort food. When you close your eyes and it takes you to another world, enjoying every second, every breath, every smell, every inch.
"Get some black paint, a few paint bushes, a pen, and paper." Kingston's voice tells someone as he walks by.
The shuffling of feet tells me that they went to grab what Kingston asked of.
A little bounce in his step tells me he's walking us down the stairs carefully. The sound of quiet chatter resuming around the house as usual.
The rest of the Grey family had left yesterday. It's been 3 days since Theo's gang, and Mason and Liam look at me in a new perspective. Dawson nods respectfully to me, giving me a hug any time he sees me. Mr. Grey gives me a kiss on the forehead, and Mrs. Grey just talks my ear off. As usual.
I miss Moren and Summer a little bit, but I did get their numbers before they both left. Christian isn't bad either, nor is Gabe. But I did have to get into Zavier and Dylan's faces.
It seemed to shock them to see someone outside of the family cursing at them in Italian. Swearing at them and telling them to shove it.
I got to know Kingston's aunts when I got up early yesterday morning when I got up to make breakfast but Marissa and Iza were already up, making up some French toast. They took one look at me and told me I should go back to bed with Kingston but I told them no and wanted to help.
They scolded me the entire time while cooking breakfast, but they were very nice and we talked about a lot of things.
Kingston walks through the kitchen, nodding to some cooks whom were cleaning up after lunch. They smile and nod, giving me a polite wave. I smile in return as Kingston passes under the archway and sets me down so softly a feather couldn't have landed any softer. Black paint, paint brushes, paper, and a pen sitting out already for us.
Kingston smiles, setting his hand on my back and guiding me over to the table, pulling my chair out for me. I sit and he pushes it in gently, leaning down and giving me a kiss on my head.
He sits in his own chair, reaching his arm out grabbing the tube of black paint and brushes.
The lid pops when Kingston pushes his thumb against it, "Give me your right hand," he instructs softly. I do as he says, extending my hand out onto the cool table and laying the palm on the tabletop, my palm facing the ceiling.
He flips the tube of paint over and gives it a squeeze, the paint pouring out and onto my hand. The cold liquid makes me shiver gently. Kingston chuckles lightly, grabbing a paintbrush and starting to spread the thin paint along the palm of my hand. "Cold?" He murmurs to me softly, his gentle gray eyes twinkling with amusement as he spreads the black paint over my palm.
The bristles tickle my palm, making my hand twitch and a giggle to bubble out of me. A soft smile spreads across Kingston's face "Yeah, it's a little chilly," I whisper back.
The room is calmly quiet, the sun leaking in through the curtains hanging in front of the window to shield the blinding rays. The sun dusts over Kingston's black hair, making it darken a deeper shade of pitch black, making his gray eyes sparkle softly.
Kingston smiles as he paints my fingertips too, covering every inch of my palm and fingers. "I want your hand print over my heart," he whispers, gently grabbing the back of my hand. His rough palm cups the back of my hand as he paints my hand throughly.
I raise my brow at him "Are you sure? Or are you trying to get my fingerprint?" I ask him playfully. He smirks at me, wiggling his brows. "Maybe," he drawls in a laughing voice "Maybe I am." A chuckle shakes his chest and I smile.
"You're a criminal." I state, my fingers twitching again as he hits another ticklish spot on my palm. He looks up at me with a playfulness in his eyes "Yes. But I'm your criminal now," he whispers, wiggling his brows at me again.
I shake my head "I take it back." I state and he gasps, his movements pausing. I look up at him to see him feigning a hurt expression.
"You can't leave me baby!" He whines playfully, gripping his chest above his heart with his right hand.
We both chuckle and he goes back to painting my palm slowly, so softly. As though he's memorizing this moment, every single stroke of the brush, every little pull of the bristles.
He finally sets the brush down, grabbing a piece of white paper and laying it down to the right of my black paint covered palm. He nods his head towards the paper and I pick my hand up, flipping it over and stamping it down on the blank piece of paper.
I squish my hand down onto the paper, waiting a few seconds before pulling it away. The paper sticks to my palm and I give it a shake, making Kingston chuckle at me and gently peel it off my hand.
He looks at the black hand print and smiles, handing me the pen "Put your name under it. Then show me where you want it over my heart. I left a space over my heart for a tattoo like this," he explains, his voice so soft and relaxed. Loving.
I take the pen and write down my name under it, setting it down on the table while Kingston grabs the hem of his black t-shirt and pulling it over his head in one smooth motion.
The movement made my heart patter against my rib cage a little faster.
The ink covered skin glows in the little light it gets leaking through the curtains, each shade of black perfectly done.
Kingston pushes his chair back gently, patting his lap "C'mere mi amor," he pats his thigh again in invitation.
I quickly stand, scurrying over to his lap, my body and mind craving for his close proximity and warm touch.
I quickly climb over onto Kingston's lap, giving a happy little shimmy. He chuckles, his hands going and gripping my hips as I take my hand against his chest, right above his heart.
It's racing against my palm.
The warmth of his skin makes my muscles relax, and the tense wave of pain that's been radiating from my shoulder starts to subside. He wasn't kidding. He has a large open spot right above his heart, I always thought it was because he just didn't want that skin tattooed.
I shift my hand to the left slightly and nod, a smile spreading across my face. I hear a little bang from the kitchen and turn my head to the right to see if I could see what happened but then a newer tattoo caught my eye.
My eyes widen as I gently draw my hand away from his chest, reaching over and tracing the dark tattoo on the inside of his bicep. "When...when did you get this?" He looks over at the tattoo my fingertip is tracing, his ears flushing a pink.
"Um...a while ago." He responds, leaning forward and kissing my forehead. I gape at his newest tattoo, trailing my fingers over the perfectly done lines.
I flick my eyes up to look at Kingston and his bottom lip is pulled between his teeth, a nervous look on his face "You...you like it?" He asks.
I turn and look back down at the breathtaking black rose tattooed on the inside of his bicep. It fans out beautifully, the shading perfectly done. Not a drop of ink out of place. I trace the cursive words with the tip of my pointer finger, the words perfectly done and well readable. "Both sides equally beautiful, but one side is taken differently..." I read the words inked permanently into his skin.
He smiles at me as I look up at him, disbelief evident in my eyes. All the breath I have in my lungs comes rushing out as I stare into his awaiting gray eyes that stare into me. He raises a brow at me "So?" He prods and I lift myself up off his lap and plant my lips against his.
His soft lips move against mine, his hands giving my hips a squeeze.
Our lips pull apart and he lets out pant, looking down at me with bright eyes "So you like it?" He asks. I nod my head, wrapping my right arm around his neck, pulling his forehead against mine.
We stared into each others eyes, never breaking the intense feeling that we both experience in each others presence.
Goddamn it, I love this man.
My lips pull up "Of course I like it," I state, bending my neck up slightly and kissing his nose. He smiles as I put my hand back on his chest, right over his heart.
It beats even faster against my hand now and a blush creeps up onto my cheeks knowing I did that.
He chuckles and brings his left hand up and placing it gently over mine, intertwining his fingers between mine, giving me a kiss on my forehead as I move my hand around.
I lean back in his lap, looking at the placement, focusing really hard on this.
I want to see it perfect.
Permanently inked on his skin.
So everyone knows who has his heart in the palm of my hand.
That's it!
I move my hand a few centimeters and my palm rests over the heavy beat of his heart. He smiles, knowing I've found the place I want him to get my handprint tattooed.
His hand glides down to my left ass cheek and gives it a squeeze. I smirk to myself.
I know where I'm going to get his handprint tattooed.
And I have a little extra few tattoos for him as well. But I refuse to tell.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and takes a selfie of our hands, showing the position of my hand and nods.
He tips his chin at the paint and pen "What do you want me to do mi amor?" He asks softly, the gentleness in his eyes just as soft as his tone of voice.
A smile spreads on my face as I spin around his lap and reach forward, grabbing a blank piece of paper and the pen, then leaning back into him, his hand holding me. His arm brushing the underside of my breasts and touching my rib cage.
"Write 'I love you, Bookworm', please," I suggest, turning my torso and looking back at him in question. He picks the pen up out of my hand and starts writing what I ask, right across the top of the paper in a neat, cursive infused writing.
He finishes the little sentence with a smile. I grin at him and point to a spot under the sentence a little bit of a distance away "Write 'Kingston's' here." I instruct and he leans forward, holding his head away from my tightly wrapped shoulder.
He quickly writes down what I asked and then I grab the black paint and pour some into his large hand.
He watches me the whole time, his eyes soft and swirling with the gentle color of gray.
I want our kids to have his eyes.
They're such a rich gray, one of the most beautiful metal and liquid paint. They mix so perfectly that it looks like a work of art, something so extraordinary that most couldn't paint them right. Even pictures can't capture the work of art that Kingston has in his eyes.
Anyone who sees them can either be intimidated or enchanted. Most are intimidated but I was stupid enough to think they were extraordinary and fell in love with just another part of him.
I pick the paintbrush up off the wood table and dip it into the center of the glob of paint in the middle of his palm. I slowly stroke the paint outwards, watching his fingers twitch ever so slightly as the bristles tickle his rough palm.
A chuckle leaves him, rumbling through his chest as the paintbrush tickles at his fingertips. A grin spreads across my face as he leans forward and kisses my forehead, his soft lips lingering on my skin.
"I'm really sorry about your shoulder," he whispers, leaning his head down and gently kissing the medical wrap tightened around my shoulder. A quiet shudder runs through me and he smiles, gently kissing it again.
It's a feather like touch along the sore skin. And it feels really nice.
His lips can kiss anything better.
"I'd take a bullet for you over and over again." I murmur to him, honesty lacing my shushed voice. He sighs, lifting his head and touching his lips to mine "Please don't. I don't think I would be able to stop myself from falling apart if you got shot again," he whispers against my lips, his voice cracking at the thought.
I shift myself on his lap and gently grab his chin, making his now glossy eyes meet mine. I drape my good arm over his shoulders and tip my head up, my lips touching his throat.
He shudders against me, his muscles relaxing and leaning into me, letting out a sigh "I love you so much mi amor." He whispers as I grab the paintbrush again and start spreading the paint again.
Once the paint is completely spread across his hand I take it softly and flip his hand over. My palm lays against the back of his hand as I guide it to a new sheet of blank paper.
I push my hand down onto his, his hand pushing roughly into the paper as we wait for a few seconds for the paint to transfer.
Kingston gently draws his hand back as I hold the paper so it doesn't stick to his skin. He smiles, leaning down and giving my cheek a kiss.
"What are you going to do with that stuff?" He asks curiously in my ear, his arms circling my waist. A smirk pulls at my lips "You'll see sugar," I murmur and he groans out in annoyance at my lack of information I'm giving him.
I grab his hand in mine gently giving it a small tug "Can we go to your moms library?" I ask him, watching as he nods with a sweet smile.
"So long as you tell me about the book," he barging, pushing his chair out for me to stand before him.
I nod my head at him as I raise from his lap, wrapping his arms around my waist "Okay, lead the way then sugar." I respond softly and he smiles, his ears turning a cute pink.
~~~~
A gentle breeze filters through the calming library, the warm light from the sun spilling in through the floor to ceiling windows in between each bookshelf. Bookshelves upon bookshelves sat in the large room, ladders on some of the taller ones.
The swirling staircase that lead up to the second floor also filled of books was a rich gold color. The second floor rimmed around the top of the bookshelves underneath, but a railing across the end of the flooring so you can see down into the library, making the already huge book filled room look even larger.
It smells of books and sage, such a calming mix for a library.
Kingston looks around the library "Uh...", I laugh lightly and make my way towards the moving ladder attached to one of the tallest bookshelves. I weave my way through the shelves, my feet dancing quietly over the warmed oak flooring, the sun making my shadow dance along the walls of books as I pass through its welcoming light.
His louder footsteps echo through the room, the big doors falling closed behind us as I grab onto the step and start pulling myself up the ladder.
I already know the book I want to take this time. I saw it last time while I was in here and it peaked my interest, so I finished the one Mrs. Grey let me borrow and now I'm climbing up at 12ft ladder to grab the next one.
"Please be careful!" Kingston calls up to me as I plant me feet firmly on the ladder and thrown my weight to the right, the ladder squeaking slightly as it started rolling towards the left as a quick speed.
Kingstons voice echos off the walls "You act like you didn't get shot in the shoulder. I need to wrap you in bubble wrap." A laugh leaves me as I reach my good hand out and grab the shelf. The ladder comes to an abrupt stop and Kingston groans.
He's so adorable.
Where did it go...
My fingers trace over the endless spines of the beautiful books, all organized in color and series. Nothing goes out of place here, not even the position of the ladder once you're done using it.
Ah ha!
I reach forward and snatch the brightly colored book off the shelving. 'Punk 57' the title reads and I nod my head with a smile, hugging the book into my side.
I quickly climb down the ladder and walk back over to Kingston. He sighs, leaning down and kissing my lips gently "Do you want me to stay with you, or can I go work out?" He asks softly, his hand cupping my cheek gently.
My skin warms to the temperature he's putting off, and it makes my normally tight muscles relax. I nuzzle my cheek into his hand and sigh, closing my eyes, a tired smile pulling at my lips.
"Okay, I have my answer," he whispers and my eyes open when he gently pulls back and starts walking towards the comfortable couch on the second floor. It sits right in the light of the sun which makes it warm and cozy, easy to read in the light.
A smile spreads on my face as I walk after him, climbing the spiraling staircase.
I watch as Kingston sits down on the couch, shifting around as he lays himself out on the couch, letting out a groan as his back pops a little when he bends over the armrest.
He lifts his hand, giving me a little motion with his pointer and middle finger. The thoughts in my brain fizzle put as my legs take me over to him, his black tattoos broad in the sunlight grazing over his tanned, toned abs. He gives me a soft smile as I slip in between his legs, nuzzling my back into his chest.
His left arm circles around my waist as he sets his head on my right shoulder, pulling his phone out from his sweatpants pocket.
I open the book, the sun grazing over my fabric covered legs and bare feet.
"Go ahead baby, start reading. I'm not going anywhere," he murmurs in my ear, kissing me in that bare spot behind it again.
A gentle giggle bubbles out of me and he chuckles quietly against my neck, giving it a gentle kiss. I snuggle into his warm body as his arm tightens around my torso.
My eyes scan over the words, a smile pulling at my lips as the sun dusts over the pages.
'Dear Misha,
So, have I ever told you my secret shame?'
I snuggle in for a long read with my boyfriend.
——————————————————————————
I want to cuddle with my boyfriend and read a book 😭
I kinda need a boyfriend first though...
Man even my writing makes me feel lonely.