Page 57 of Grizz

She raises her brows.“The no-feelings, no-talking-about-our-days rule.‘Sex only,’ remember?Your phrase, not mine.”

I feel heat crawl up the back of my neck.It’s not embarrassment but rather irritation that she’s right.That she caught me caring.That I didn’t even notice I’d slipped.

“I was just trying to make conversation,” I mutter.

“Mmm.”She sips again, eyes on me.“Sounds dangerously close to asking about my life, Grizz.”

I want to snap back.Tease her.Drag her into my lap.Anything to wipe that knowing look off her face.

Instead, I say a truth out loud that even I don’t expect.“You smiled.”

Her brows pull together.“What?”

“Before.When I asked how you’ve been.”I swallow hard.“You smiled like… you thought something.”

She tries to hide it—too late.

“What were you smiling about?”I ask, voice rougher.

She hesitates, then says simply, “You.Breaking your own rule.”

“Don’t read into it,” I mutter.

She folds one leg over the other, leaning back, unconvinced.“You’re the one who asked.”

I should stop here and steer us back to where we’re safe—sex, teasing, anything but feelings.

“You think I don’t notice things?”I ask.“Like when you get quiet before you ask a hard question.Or how your whole face softens when you talk about fashion.Or how you pretend you hate attention but walk into a room like you own it.”

Her breath catches, barely.“Grizz…”

“No,” I cut in.“Don’t ‘Grizz’ me.I see things too.I just don’t talk about them.”

She sets her wine down, studying me with that unnerving mix of gentleness and resolve that makes me want to climb walls.“Then why are you talking now?”

Good question.

A better one… why does talking to her—this woman I was supposed to keep at arm’s length—feel less suffocating than keeping my mouth shut?

“I don’t know,” I say finally.“Maybe because you’re the only person who isn’t afraid to actually see me.”

“Grizz…” Her voice is soft but also feels like it could open me to my core.

I look away instantly, a muscle jumping in my cheek.And just like that, the instinct slams back into place.This is why the rule exists.This is why I made it.

Because feelings—attachments or whatever the hell this is—they’re dangerous.Distracting.They screw with your head on the ice, in your life, everywhere.I’ve spent too long keeping myself sharp and worked too hard to get caught up in them.

I drag a hand through my hair and force my voice steady.“Forget it,” I mutter, taking one long swallow to drain the rest of my glass.“Pour another drink.”

But Daisy doesn’t reach for the bottle.Instead, she sets her glass on the side table and scooches closer, near enough that I feel her warmth.

“Grizz,” she says quietly, “you don’t have to bulldoze every vulnerable moment.”

Her eyes are locked on mine.

I break first.“So… tell me something about you,” I say, rubbing my thumb along the stem of my glass.“A fact or two about your family.Your life before New York.Whatever.”

It surprises her.“My backstory?”she repeats, almost teasing, but not quite.