Chapter 169 (80%)

Ava’s POV

Number thirteen. Number twenty-seven. Number nine.

That was the sequence in which Grayson had crossed off three more things from his list by the time morning sunlight crept through the curtains. My brain still struggled to comprehend how I’d gone from despising a man who wouldn't touch me to being with someone who ignited every inch of my skin. Because that's what Grayson Blackwood did to me.

And even better? The surprising realization that the intense, brooding, no-nonsense Grayson Blackwood was secretly… a cuddler.

A soft smile tugged at my lips as I snuggled closer, feeling his warmth envelop me. Even in sleep, he pulled me closer, his arms tightening possessively around my waist, as if his subconscious recognized the shift in me. My body protested slightly with a dull ache, a reminder of the previous night's intensity. I winced faintly. I was sure I’d be sore for days—weeks, even—but it was completely worth it.

For someone inexperienced, he was incredible. Beyond incredible, really. Every touch, every move felt crafted just for me; he instinctively knew what I needed before I did.

All I wanted was to stay there forever, wrapped in that moment, in him.

But, of course, my wolf had other ideas.

She growled faintly, a low rumble in my mind, pushing her usual nonsense. I felt her planting nonsensical ideas. Grayson wasn't my mate. All the facts pointed to that. I'd felt the mating bond with Dylan clearly, even though she wasn't present then.

Still, she persisted.

I sighed internally, sending a sharp surge of irritation her way. Stop it, I thought, slamming a mental door in her face. Her growl deepened, but I lacked the energy to engage. This wasn't the time for her fantasies. I'd accepted his choice and wasn't going to push for him to be "drained" to be mine.

Grayson's arms tightened, as if sensing my wandering mind, as if he thought I might slip away if he didn't hold on tighter. The gesture warmed my chest, and I shifted to look at him.

Goddess, he was beautiful.

Asleep, his face was peaceful; the sharp edges of his jaw and cheekbones softened by rest. His thick, dark lashes fanned out against his cheeks—longer than any man had a right to have—and his lips, soft and slightly parted, looked impossibly gentle compared to how commanding they’d felt the night before.

I couldn't help myself.

(10:33 Sat, Jan 25)

Leaning forward, I pressed a light kiss to the corner of his mouth, lingering long enough to feel the warmth of his skin. He stirred slightly, his brows twitching, but he didn't wake. A soft sound, a quiet hum of contentment, escaped him, and I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my face.

I stayed there, watching him, memorizing every detail: his chest rising and falling beneath the sheets, the slight scruff along his jaw catching the morning light, the unguarded vulnerability only I saw.

And then, my phone decided to ruin it.

The sudden buzz and sharp ringtone cut through the quiet, making me jump. Grayson groaned, his brows furrowing in irritation as he shifted, his grip tightening.

"Don't answer it," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly.

I giggled softly, amused by his adamant refusal to let me move. "Grayson—"

"No," he cut me off, pulling me back against his chest with unsurprising strength. "Don't answer it. Just… let it ring."

I bit my lip to stifle my laughter, resting my forehead against his chest. But, as if the universe tested his patience, the phone rang again.

This time, he made a sound between a growl and a sigh, burying his face in my hair. "If I crush your phone, will you be mad?"

I laughed softly, shaking my head. "You wouldn't dare."

He pulled back slightly to look at me, his dark eyes heavy with sleep but full of something that made my heart skip. "Try me," he said, teasing but still with that Grayson intensity.

When the phone finally stopped, he exhaled in relief, his grip loosening slightly but not letting go entirely.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly, his eyes searching mine.

His genuine concern made my cheeks flush. "I'm…" I hesitated, my body reminding me of the ache as I shifted. "Sore," I admitted.

His eyes darkened, a flash of guilt crossing his expression as he frowned. "Ava, I—"

"It's a good kind of sore," I interrupted, placing a hand on his chest to stop him from apologizing. "Really, Grayson. It's… It's worth it. You're worth it."

He stared at me, his gaze intense and unreadable, as if assessing my honesty. Finally, he exhaled, his shoulders relaxing as he brushed a strand of hair from my face.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured, his voice low and rough.

I smiled softly, leaning into his touch. "I think I have a pretty good idea."

For a moment, we stayed like that, tangled together, the world fading away. Nothing else mattered. Not the list, not the phone, not my wolf's incessant growling. Just him. Just us.

"Thank you," I whispered.

(10:33 Sat, Jun 25) (Note: This timestamp conflicts with the previous one. Please verify the correct date.)

What he asked, his brows rising slightly.

"For this," I said, gesturing to the space between us, "For letting me see this side of you. For trusting me with it."

His expression lightened slightly, and I saw the conflict in his eyes; he wasn't sure how to respond. Finally, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.

"You're the only one I'd trust with it," he admitted quietly. It made my skin burn.

And just like that, the ache in my body faded, replaced by warmth blooming in my chest. Grayson Blackwood wasn't the man I thought he was; he was someone I never thought possible. And I didn't want to let that go.

But then my phone rang again, shattering the moment.

Grayson huffed in annoyance, his arms tightening around me as if to physically stop me from answering. This time, though, I wriggled free, ignoring his low grumble as I reached for the phone. A third call usually meant something serious.

Pressing the phone to my ear, I barely had time to say hello before Isabella's frantic voice exploded.

"I've been calling you, Lilian! Where have you been?"

I blinked, caught off guard by her panic. "It's only been two calls—"

She didn't let me finish. "I don't care! I need you to get to our favorite café right now!" Her voice was sharp, urgent, chilling.

"What's going on—"

"Just get here, Lilian! Something happened, and it's urgent. I'll explain everything when you get here, but you need to hurry. GET HERE NOW!"

(The final numbers "33 A 35 53% T" appear to be unrelated and are omitted.)