Chapter 70 Chapter Seventy

Chapter 70 Chapter Seventy
Bella

Gray literally dragged me out of the café like I was his youngest sister.

The second we stepped outside, I snatched my wrist from his grip, but he immediately backed me up against the brick wall, caging me in with his tall, powerful frame. 

His riding leathers and combat boots made him look like some dangerous fantasy cosplayer who had stepped out of a dark romance novel.

I tried so hard to contain my anger, I really tried, but it burst out of me.

“What the fuck, Gray?” I snapped. “I was trying to order food!”

“Eating out all the time isn’t healthy,” he said flatly, not even blinking.

I eyed his outfit, the black riding leathers hugging his thighs, the straps wrapped around his biceps, the combat boots. He looked ridiculous. And unfairly hot.

When I looked back up at his face, I caught him staring at my lips with intense focus, like he was debating whether to kiss me or devour me.

“Something is seriously wrong with you,” I muttered. “You’re hot and cold whenever it suits you. You threaten to break me one night and then drag me out of a café the next day like nothing happened. Can you stop making my life so fucking hard?”

A slow, wicked smirk tugged at his lips.

“Yes,” he said, eyes dropping deliberately to my chest. “But your nipples? No.”

My mouth fell open. Heat rushed to my face as I crossed my arms over my breasts.

“Fuck you,” I hissed. “Fuck you so hard.”

His smirk deepened for half a second before vanishing completely, replaced by that cold, unreadable mask again. “We’re going shopping for the dress you’ll wear tonight,” he stated, like it was already decided.

I blinked. “I’m sorry… I beg your ugliest pardon?”

“I’ve seen the dress your mother ordered for you.” His face scrunched up in pure disgust. “Even dead people wear better outfits to their own funerals. I’m not letting you walk into that dinner looking like a discounted doll.”

I shoved at his chest, needing space to breathe and to process what the hell he just said.

“My mother ordered a dress for me?”

Gray's eyes narrowed. “She wants you to play the perfect daughter for our relatives. I want you to look like mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a dangerous shiver down my spine.

“I’m not going shopping with you,” I shot back, trying to sound firmer than I felt. “And just to be clear, you don’t get to decide what I wear. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to eat. Thanks for wasting my time.”

I tried to step around him, but Gray’s arm shot out, slamming against the wall beside my head and blocking my escape. 

He leaned in close, his breath brushing my ear.

“You can fight me on this, Bella,” he whispered. “But we both know how that ends.”

I turned my head to meet his eyes. What I saw there was a battlefield, light and darkness warring violently behind those stormy gray irises. Protectiveness. Possessiveness. Obsession. All of it fighting for dominance.

“And how exactly does it end, Grayson?” His sharp intake of breath was audible. I had never called him by his full name before.

Gray’s jaw flexed, his gaze darkening as he leaned in closer. He let his voice drop low, rough enough to make my skin prickle.

“The tragic truth is… this doesn’t end, Bella. It’ll never end.” His fingers brushed my jaw. “I’m asking you nicely, be a good little girl, get on my bike, and let me buy you a fucking dinner dress.”

If he was willing to risk coming here, where people were already whispering and staring at the guy who “set the Humanities building on fire”, just to stop me from wearing my mother’s choice, then it had to be bad. Really bad.

I studied him for a moment longer. “Before I agree to this… what did you do with the dress my mother got for me?”

He licked his lips, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You don’t have to worry about it. It’s in a better place now.”

A better place. Vague. Ominous. So very Gray. I tried not to roll my eyes and failed.

“Enough questions,” he said, grabbing my hand. “Let’s go. We’ll stop somewhere decent so you can eat first.”

I followed him to where he’d parked his bike. He handed me the helmet hanging off the handlebar. 

When I fumbled with the strap, he tugged me closer and fastened it himself, his fingertips brushing the sensitive skin of my neck.

He climbed on first, then offered me his hand. I stared at it for a second before ignoring it and attempting to swing my leg over on my own.

The bastard revved the engine at the exact wrong moment. I careened forward, my chest slamming against his back. 

“Fuck… I want you like this all the time,” he murmured. “Pressed against me.”

I gritted my teeth, wrapped my arms around his waist, and pinched his thigh hard.

He hissed. “Fuck! You’re going to pay for that, Red.”

“Fucking pervert,” I muttered to myself.

He revved the bike again, harder this time, and suddenly lifted the front wheel, balancing on the back one in a smooth, dangerous wheelie.

The familiar terror from my past crashed over me like ice water. This was exactly how my ex used to do it, reckless, selfish, showing off. 

My arms tightened around Gray like a vice as panic clawed up my throat.

He’s not him. Gray won’t let us fall. He’s not him.

But logic didn’t stop the fear.

Gray brought the bike back down smoothly and squeezed my thigh once, a silent ‘I’ve got you’.”

I exhaled shakily and wrapped my arms tighter around his waist, pressing my helmeted cheek against his back as he took off, weaving us out of campus and into the main road.

The wind whipped around us, but all I could focus on was the steady beat of his heart under my hands and the terrifying realization that no matter how hard I tried to pull away…I was already falling.

I knew that one day I'd fall, and there'd be no one to catch me.