The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4 (Cursed #3-4) - Rebecca Donovan Page 0,99

He’s about to slide an arm around me but stops himself. “Where are you hurt?”

I wave my flat hand in front of my stomach area. He tenderly cradles me to his side.

“I’m sorry your friends didn’t believe you. They should know you better than that. I’ve only known you a couple months, and I would never doubt you. You care about people.”

I scoff.

“Okay, let me rephrase that. You defend the people you care about. That’s who you are, Lana.”

“You sound like Arden,” I say with a light laugh. Grant looks at me quizzically. “She’s my suitemate. Her curse is Insight. She’s really good at it.”

“I think I know her.” Grant pauses in recollection. “Does she dress in really colorful and eccentric clothing and makeup?”

“Yeah, she’s pretty unforgettable,” I note admiringly. “She called me a warrior.” I laugh because I find it a little absurd. I’m not nearly that honorable or disciplined.

“She is insightful,” Grant remarks seriously.

“Is that really how you see me?” I ask incredulously.

“I’ve seen enough of your fire to understand that you’re passionate, not reckless—although it still scares the shit out of me because I don’t want you to get hurt. Honestly, I wish violence wasn’t your protective instinct. But I get what ignited it. And I know you’re trying, right?”

I nod.

“You didn’t start that confrontation with Nina. I agree with Niall; you were defending yourself.”

I draw my feet up onto the dock and ungracefully plop onto Grant’s lap.

He catches me with a surprised, “Umph.”

“I was wrong to shield you from me like I did,” I admit, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I was so angry and afraid of hurting you. But you and Ashton don’t need protecting. You’re both stronger than I gave you credit for. I screwed up, and I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he assures me quietly, rubbing gentle circles on my back. “I want to know your truths, remember?” He tips his head, so I can see the conviction in his eyes. “So please don’t protect me from you. You’re not going to burn me.” He brushes his thumb along my cheek.

“Never apologize for who you are, Lana. I know you’re unpredictable. I’m endlessly entertained, never knowing what you’re going to say or do.” He kisses my temple. “But you’ve always been honest about who you are. I fell in love with that honesty almost the second I met you.” He brushes his lips against mine. “I love you.” He smiles affectionately.

“Can I just say that it feels pretty fricken amazing to be able to say the L-word without you freaking out?” He studies me. “Unless you’re freaking out … are you?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Not when you say it.” I hug him. “When you say it, it’s like I’m hearing exactly what I feel, so it’s more like I’m saying it to you every time you say it to me.” I cringe. Maybe I’m having a brownie flashback. “That didn’t come out right.”

“It was perfect, Sweets,” he says, leaning down to show me exactly what I mean. His lips skate over mine, across my cheek and down my neck, making my head light and pulse quicken.

A drop falls onto my cheek. I swipe at the moisture. Am I seriously crying again?

When more drops hit my bare arms and shoulders, I realize it’s not my face that’s crying but the sky. Within seconds, it completely opens up and begins to pour.

Instinct has me scrambling off Grant’s lap and standing. But he tugs on my arm before I can seek shelter.

He’s smiling that stunning, breathtaking smile. “We’re already wet.”

He’s right. I’m soaked through, my hair plastered to the sides of my face.

I eye him curiously when he kicks off his shoes and peels his socks from his feet. My eyes widen when he unbuttons his shirt. Then my mouth tilts into an appreciative smirk when he shucks it off, revealing the smooth lines of muscle and tanned skin.

Before he can reach for his pants, I unzip my dress and leave everything in a sopping mess at my feet. I rush past him and plunge in the water, hoping this is what he intended.

Grant slips through the rippling water like a blade. He re-emerges in front of me. “Are you …”

“Naked?” I grin. “Yes.”

“Oh,” he breathes out.

The rain pelts our faces as the water wakes around us.

“You’re not?”

“Uh, no,” he admits, his cheeks flushed. “Am I supposed to be?”

“Not if you don’t want to be,” I say, disappearing under the water to swim in