Grey admits sheepishly. "This wasn't us, little killer." I see red, shoving him back. "Don't call me that." Grey has to stop himself from falling off the bed, immediately reaching for me as I try to move away. "Baby girl, stop," he groans, grabbing me. "I didn't call you that because I thought you were a murderer when we met. I called you that because I knew you would be the death of me. But it's a sweet death, one that I welcome."
