A Little Bit Married

Passionate

We finally got to the hotel, and I waited for Gray as he fixed up a lodging and got a suite for us. Once he was done, he got the keys to the room, then held my hand and led me upstairs. From afar, we looked like a couple on their honeymoon, eager to make passionate, intense love in that room. They would be right about being a couple, but we were still far from the conventional couple.

We got to the suite and he opened it before he let me go in. He turned the lights on behind me, and I gave a small gasp. It was extremely beautiful, and the view from the large window was the icing on the cake.

"This is beautiful," I said, walking around the room.

Gray gave a small nod. "Could you put a call to room service for dinner while I take a shower?"

"Of course," I said, and he gave me a small nod before he walked away.

I walled to the phone before realizing I didn't even know how to call room service. I have never been in a hotel room before.

Unwilling to let Gray come out and do it, I decided to go downstairs. Luckily, the receptionist helped me out, and after a few minutes, the order was given, and they would be bringing dinner upstairs.

"Thank you," I said to the receptionist, then walked back upstairs.

When I got into the room, Gray was lying in bed, his hair damp and sprawled across the white sheets, his eyes closed. He hadn't even bothered to tuck himself in. I closed the door noiselessly and walked towards him, then leaned to him.

His brows were furrowed, and he looked disturbed even in his sleep. Slowly, I reached to him, taking my fingers into his hair and gently massaging his scalp.

He immediately loosened up, and he let out a small breath. I could swear he said my name, but it could as well have been me hallucinating.

He now looked somewhat peaceful, and I stood up and turned off the lights, except for the ones on the bedside.

I tucked him in, and he stirred only once. It made me smile. He would never have admitted just jow tired he really was.

I sat next to his head, and adjusted his head to rest on my thigh. He moved and adjusted his head, finding a comfortable position for him on my lap.

Once he was settled, I dug my fingers back in his hair, massaging slowly, my other hand running along his forehead.

I am not even sure why I am doing this, but it felt right. Even though I was nothing but the girlfriend of the man who stole his fiancee, he never failed to protect me.

This was the least I could do for him. I leaned to check if he was asleep, and to my surprise, his eyes were open.

I froze in place, my eyes wide, and I immediately started to move away. Gray was faster, and his hand came behind my head and pulled me back, so I could do nothing but stare into the endless abysses of his eyes.

My breath was all over the place, and I struggled to breathe or even think.

I could vaguely hear the knocking on the door, but the pounding of my heart was much louder. The boiling of my blood was much closer.

"Gray, I was...." I trailed off, my eyes darting across both of his.

Slowly, he moved, his eyes holding mine throughout. He was now facing upwards, his eyes holding mine.

"Why are you doing this?"

I swallowed hard. "I... I just... I noticed you looked a little disturbed in your sleep and..." I bit down on my lips. "Do you hate it?"

"What if I do?"

I blinked. "I... I won't stop. You looked much better after it, so I won't stop."

He turned away, letting me go. "You have some dangerous hobbies, Evangeline."

I sank my hands back into his hair, and I heard him suck in a sharp breath.

"Dangerous?" I asked, massaging lightly. "Is getting this close to you dangerous?"

"What if it was? Are you scared?"

I swallowed. "Beautiful things are rarely ever reasons for fear, Gray."

"Beautiful?" He whispered, then chuckled. "I am no beauty, Evangeline. I am as grey as my name."

I shrugged again. "But isn't grey such a beautiful colour? It is the colour of the skies right before it rains. The colour of..."

The rest of my words hitched in my throat as Gray suddenly turned and took my lips in one fiery, passionate kiss. I felt my breath stop in my throat, my heart flapping hard against my chest, my body immediately settling into the foreign, delicious sensation of his lips parting mine.

For a long minute, we exchanged desperate taste, desperate passion, desperate intensity, the sort that messed up my brain and turned my blood into a boiling thick mess.

He finally broke the kiss, his eyes watching me, darting slowly between my eyes and my lips. I just have had something encouraging on my face, in my eyes, or the shiny moisture in my lips because he gently cupped my face, his fingers entwined with my hair.

He leaned to kiss me once more, but I feared for my breath and turned away, stopping him. He stopped, his eyes searching mine for possible answers. There were none, and he wouldn't even need them, as I covered the distance first, kissing him first, letting his taste consume me and redefine my mind's understanding of perfection.

Slowly, he moved till my back was on the bed, and his body hovered above me, his hair falling between us. His eyes were mostly dark but slightly illuminated by the evening lights from the bedstands.

Slowly, he leaned into me, and my hands wrapped around him, my nails digging into his back and grasping unto his robe.

I guess we are passionate. I guess we could be a conventional couple if these kisses were any indication of it.