Page 89 of The Wolf Prince

His eyes are still glowing faintly, heat and something almost wild burning behind them.

“Grimm?”

He closes his eyes. When he opens them again, whatever I saw is buried beneath that maddening control of his.

But his hands are still on me. He hasn't let go.

And I don't want him to.

So maybe it's the wine.

Maybe it's the chocolate.

Maybe it's the fact that I've spent thirty-six years being the woman who avoids confrontation, makes excuses, and lets everyone else decide what happens next because asking for what I want is terrifying.

But I don't want to do that right now.

Not with him.

I gather every scrap of nerve I possess.

“Come inside.”

Grimm goes still.

“I told you⁠—”

“No.”

Look at me.

Interrupting a man.

Personal growth.

“I heard what you said. You shouldn't.” I swallow. “I'm asking if you want to.”

His expression changes.

Oh.

That's different.

The glow in his eyes intensifies. His gaze drops to my mouth.

“Agatha.”

My name sounds like a warning. Or a plea.

Possibly both.

I step closer.

“Come inside with me, Grimm.”

His chest rises on a deep breath. Then his eyes find mine.

“Are you sure?”