Chapter Eighteen

Greyson

Cecilia’s chin was high as she contemplated my ultimatum, and still I sensed her distress, her weariness at the decision before her. Uncertainty circulated through her bloodstream and emanated from her pores. She’d chosen to trust me, and now she wondered if she’d made the right choice.

I could tell her the truth—she had made the only choice, but that didn’t make it the right one.

I waited.

My ultimatum hung in the air as beyond the walls, a storm’s rage roared around the cabin.

With a huff, she turned away.

Fuck no.

Without thinking, I reached for her elbow and spun her back to me. My grip tightened.

Big brown eyes.

I hadn’t meant to touch her. I hadn’t.

Even with my grasp through the coat, I felt something unique.

Other women, even one I thought I loved, were obtainable.

Cecilia Abernathy wasn’t.

She was on a fucking pedestal, and yet I had her in my grasp.