“How?” he asks, unsure of what I want.
“Like this,” I murmur, my hair dragging over the pillow as I lean into him, nestling my cheek against his broad chest.
The relief that sweeps over me is instantaneous, and I can’t help but run my hand up his abdomen, resting it in the crevice between his firm pectoral muscles, my fingers playing with the buttons of his still-damp shirt. I sigh. He just feels so good.
For all of my nuzzling, Grant is incredibly still. I can’t tell if he’s even breathing. Maybe he’s waiting for instructions? Permission?
“Put your arm around me,” I whisper, my eyelids drooping.
He does, slowly, and before long, I’m locked in his firm but gentle embrace.
Oh my God. I don’t realize I’m crying until a tear drips down my nose and onto the collar of his shirt.
“It’s okay to be scared,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against my hair.
Grant’s voice rasps pleasantly in my ear, and I nestle myself deeper into his arms with another shaky sigh. The simple, heartfelt act and his kind words comfort me more than I thought they would.
“You’re safe. Breathe, sweetheart. You’re safe with me. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
I do, drawing in a long breath and releasing it just as slowly.
“That’s it. Do it again for me.”
I inhale again, breathing deeply so I can feel my rib cage expand, the fullness of my breasts brushing against his firm chest.
“If you need to talk,” he says, his voice deep, “I’m here. I’m not good at that kind of thing, but I can listen.”
“It’s okay.” I breathe out slowly. “I’m okay. Just hold me a minute longer?”
“Anything.”
We stay like that for several minutes. The temperature in the room seems to rise until it’s humid between us, the air thick with tension. And temptation. And something else I can’t quite put my finger on.
My next words pour out of me like rain from a gutter. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
When Grant doesn’t respond, my fingers slide up his chest to his throat, and along the defined line of his stubbled jaw. With a shaking hand, I draw his face toward mine, our eyes meeting in the darkness of the room.
“Did you hear me?” I ask, my gaze flicking between his eyes and lips.
His tongue darts out to lick his lips, leaving a hypnotizing gleam. “Yeah.” He breathes out, saying softly, “It’s no pr—”
I bring my mouth to his in a breathless kiss, humility be damned.
Grant grunts low, his hand shooting up to catch my jaw with calloused fingers. His lips are sinfully soft against mine, and they move slowly, not asking for too much too soon. I press into him, my fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck with a desperation brewing in my belly that I haven’t felt since . . . maybe ever.
I pull back, pressing my thumb to his lower lip. “Is this okay?” I whisper, praying that he says, Yes, this is more than okay.
Grant doesn’t speak, his breathing ragged and slow. I rub my thumb across his full lower lip. He draws my thumb into his mouth, catching my fingertip on his teeth. I hold my breath as Grant slides his fingers into the curtain of hair draped over my collarbone, pulling it over my shoulder to reveal the length of my neck.
He moves deliberately and leans down to press his lips to mine in a slow kiss, his palm resting firmly on the junction of my neck and shoulder.
I sigh into his kiss, opening my lips to his seeking tongue. A whimper escapes my throat when he brushes the outline of my ear with his fingers, and a current of electricity runs from the top of my head down to my toes.
Acting on instinct, I pull him on top of me, relishing the way his broad body covers mine. He’s careful not to crush me, but I don’t want careful. I lift my hips off the mattress to grind into his, his belt buckle brushing deliciously against my most tender spot. Grant releases a groan, dropping his lips to my neck. I allow my eyes to flutter closed, drunk on his hot breath against my sensitive skin.
“Please,” I whisper, when Grant’s lips pause against my skin in a moment’s doubt.
Please don’t stop now.
10
* * *
Hot and Heavy
Grant
This is not what I expected when I arrived home tonight.
First, finding Ana in my bed . . . then lying with her, holding her, comforting her. It should feel foreign, strange—wrong. But it doesn’t. It feels amazing. She fits against me perfectly, molding her slender body to mine, nestling herself in against my chest, like I alone have the power to ease her discomfort.
My intentions were innocent—at first.
When I saw her reaction to the storm, I only wanted to provide comfort. Although it’s out of the ordinary for me to play that role for someone, somehow it miraculously worked. Ana relaxed against me, her breathing evening out. But then she turned her face to mine and offered up those lips, and all my self-control unraveled.
Because kissing her . . .
God, it’s the perfect kiss. Wet and hot and searing.
It’s been so long since I’ve held a woman in my arms, had a woman in my bed . . . So, yeah, my body reacts, immediately hardening, even though I will it not to.
And then when Ana pulls me on top of her, all my reservations vanish like a bolt of lightning in the night sky.
I hover over her, my body caging hers beneath mine with my forearms balanced on the bed near her head. She’s so small, so fragile, and it takes some effort to keep the bulk of my weight from crushing her.
She makes a low noise of contentment, and my heart shudders. Knowing that she trusts me to care for her, that it’s my chest she’s buried herself into, that it’s me she wants comfort from? My chest gets so tight I can hardly breathe, and I press a soft kiss to her temple.
Settling myself over top of her, I tilt her chin to mine and deepen our kiss. Ana’s hips lift, seeking friction against mine. A gasp escapes her perfect mouth as my lips travel to her throat. She smells so good, and tastes even better.
Her hands ball into fists against my shirt, her pulse thrumming fast. She nuzzles right into the hollow of my throat, her smooth cheek brushing over my stubbled one.
She shifts, moving against me, and I swallow a groan when her fingers graze the growing bulge behind my zipper.
“Ana . . .” I rumble out the warning, barely breathing. She has to know she’s turning me on. Has to know this is too far. I have a gorgeous woman in my bed—something that hasn’t happened in a very long time. My self-control is far less reliable than I’d like right now.
I need to tell her to stop, need to put some distance between us. Of course, I do none of those things.
“Grant,” she murmurs, her lips touching my skin.
Fractures of heat flash through me and my cock stands at full salute. I groan as her pelvis rubs enticingly against mine.
“Tell me,” I say, leaning closer to brush my lips across her neck.
“I need you,” she whispers, trembling in my arms, but for an entirely different reason than before. Delicate hands push against my clothes, trying to work them open.
Her eyelids flutter closed as my brain screams at me to end this. But I won’t. I can’t. I’m too far gone to care that this is wrong. I’m powered now on blinding need and the thrill of discovering every inch of this beautiful girl.