Chapter 166

Ava POV

“And what you said afterward. That you loved me.”

The words lingered, but as soon as I mentioned sex, Grayson's expression subtly shifted. His demeanor sharpened; his posture tensed slightly. He wasn't angry, just alert, his intense focus drying my throat. I stopped.

I wasn't sure he even remembered saying it during one of our more passionate moments. Even if he did, I didn't know if he meant it or if it was a heat-of-the-moment thing. But for me, it was significant. I'd dwelt on those words far too much.

Still, this didn't feel like the right time. Not yet.

He was staring at me, his piercing gaze making coherent thought impossible. My body flushed under his scrutiny; my face, I'm sure, was scarlet. I instantly regretted this entire conversation, cursing Isabella for planting the seed.

"What about it?" he asked calmly, but curiously.

I bit my lip, searching for words. The corner of his mouth twitched—a suppressed smirk. That made me blurt out a rushed explanation.

"It's nothing bad. Actually, it's great—like, thinking-about-it-all-the-time great. I was talking to Bella, she had this stupid idea, and now I don't even know why I brought it up. Forget it."

Grayson raised an eyebrow, his lips curving slightly upward. "Forget it? You said it's about sex, and now you want me to forget it? Seriously?"

I groaned inwardly, fiddling with my napkin. "Well… no."

His voice softened, coaxing. "What was the idea?"

My face burned. Even after all this time, he still had the power to unnerved me with a single look.

"She said I should… make a list. Of things I wanted to do… during sex." My voice faltered; I shifted uncomfortably. "This was a bad time."

Grayson was silent for a moment. Then, amused and low, he said, "Did you make the list?"

My gaze snapped to his; I glared. "It's not funny."

That broke the tension. The smirk widened into a full, amused smile. "Of course, it's not funny," he said, the humor unconcealed now. "And I'm not laughing at you. I just… wasn't expecting this."

His expression softened as he leaned closer. "You can talk to me about anything, Ava. You know that, right? Especially about this."

Chapter 166 (continued)

"It's not that I don't like what we're already doing," I blurted out nervously. "I mean, I like everything you do. It's really, really great. Forget-my-own-name great."

I clamped my mouth shut, horrified. I looked down at the table, wishing I could vanish.

Grayson's lips twitched, but he didn't laugh. He remained quiet, letting me compose myself.

"It's just…" I sighed, finding my voice again. "Things I think I'd like to try. To see if I'd actually like them."

I felt like I was digging my own grave. I wanted the earth to swallow me whole. Just as I was about to bury my face in my hands, a waiter arrived.

He approached, addressing Grayson: "What can I get for you, sir?"

He didn't even glance at me. Grayson ordered without looking at the menu, polite but firm. The waiter said, "Your order will be out in ten minutes," still avoiding me.

All amusement vanished. Ten minutes. Ten whole minutes before I could use food as a distraction. I groaned inwardly.

As soon as the waiter left, Grayson's eyes were back on me. "Did you make the list?" he asked casually, as if discussing groceries.

I looked at him, praying he'd drop it, but his expression said otherwise.

Sighing in defeat, I reached into my bag, found the folded paper, and handed it to him reluctantly, my eyes fixed on the table.

Grayson took the paper, his brows raising slightly as he unfolded it. I saw a flicker of surprise before he masked it.

His eyes scanned the page slowly. My heart pounded.

The list wasn't just a few bullet points. It was a comprehensive inventory of every dark fantasy and curiosity that had ever crossed my mind. Two pages, front and back.

I was going to kill Isabella. Then myself for listening to her.

Grayson remained silent as he finished reading. His expression didn't change—no smirk, frown, or raised brow. That made it worse. The suspense was unbearable.

Finally, he looked up. For a moment, I couldn't read his expression. Then, slowly, a smile touched his lips—not mocking or judgmental, but softer, intrigued.

"This is… thorough," he said, amused.

I buried my face in my hands, groaning. "I knew this was a bad idea."

"No," he said firmly. "It's not a bad idea. Not at all."

Peeking through my fingers, I saw his expression had softened further. There was no judgment. If anything, he looked impressed.

"You know," he said, setting the paper down, "this tells me a lot about you."

I lowered my hands, blinking at him. That wasn't the reaction I expected.

"And," he added, mischief in his eyes, "that you've got a pretty adventurous side."

I wanted to disappear, but managed to mutter, "I was just curious. That's all."

He picked up the list, his gaze flicking back to the items. "Well, curiosity is a good thing."

"Stop looking at it," I said, panicking.

Ignoring me, he continued reading, thoughtfully. Then, after what felt like forever, he set it down and tapped a finger on the paper.

"Number eighteen," he said, calmly, but with something I couldn't place.

My stomach dropped. "What's number eighteen?"

He didn't answer. He leaned back, a slow, almost wicked smile spreading across his face.

And in that moment, I instantly regretted giving him the list.