Our mouths meet in a kiss that’s so hot and urgent, I groan out of relief. Ana’s tongue seeks entrance, and I devour her mouth with deep, drugging kisses that make me feel drunk.
“Tell me if you want to stop. We don’t have to do anything that . . .”
The words die in my throat and a deep rumble takes its place because Ana is undeterred, her hand pushing inside my dress pants. I forget how to breathe when it slips under the elastic of my boxer briefs. I’m hard as a fucking rock, and there’s not a thing I can do about that.
“Wait, sweetheart, wait . . .” Fuck.
Her touch is electric, and I shiver at the contact. It’s been a really long time since someone other than me has touched my dick.
“Do you not want to?” she asks on a strained exhale.
She’s lovely. And beautiful. Of course I want to.
“Are you kidding? Do whatever you want to me.”
“Oh God . . .” She moans as her fingers curl around my shaft.
My chest shudders at the contact of her delicate palm stroking me, and again at the sound of the whispered curse tumbling from her perfect mouth.
“Grant, you’re so big,” she murmurs, her breath coming out in quick puffs against my throat. “Please. I need this. I need you.”
Throwing common sense out the fucking window, I move, changing our positions so I’m lying beside her. I need to see her eyes. Need to know what she’s thinking. Need to be sure this is okay.
“You sure this is what you want?” My words are little more than a harsh pant.
Her mouth is nuzzling the stubble on my jaw in the most distracting way ever. “So much.”
Jesus. How can I be expected to think with anything but the head below my belt?
I want her. From the first moment I laid eyes on Ana a year ago at a Hawks game, I’ve wanted her. As wrong as that was, especially because she was in the WAGs box at the time. She was taken. By one of my own damn teammates. And still, I wanted her.
Does that make me a douche? Maybe, but I never acted on it. Never showed even a flicker of interest toward her. Not when I first shook her hand, not when I made small talk with her at a charity event several months later, not when I drove her home for the first time after Jason had a meltdown at our friends’ going-away party, and not even when I gave her a ride home from the start-of-the-season banquet. My one faux pas? Giving her my phone number. But even that was innocent. I had the strange suspicion that there might come a day when Ana needed a hand.
But now?
Now that she’s pushing her lower body against mine in a slow grind—it’s game over. I’m done. I can’t resist her any longer. Nothing and no one is standing in our way now. We’re just two adults with a whole lot of chemistry and pent-up sexual desire.
I bring my mouth to hers again and capture her lips in a slow, sweet kiss. Ana’s tongue reaches out to confidently stroke against mine. When I run one hand along the side of her rib cage and stop at her breast, she moans. I pinch her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, and she jolts, her pelvis bumping into mine urgently as we lie side by side.
“Please,” she whispers against my lips.
Working my fingers into the side of her sleep shorts, I find her wet for me already. Although I only meant to tempt, to tease, when she lets out a long, breathy groan, I sink two fingers into her warm heat. Her voice goes molten, her moan melting like warm honey as her pliable body accommodates me.
“Yeah. There,” she whispers, shuddering against me.
I can’t get enough of touching her. The sounds she’s making. The way she feels in my arms.
Lifting her off the bed for a second, I pull her shorts and panties down her hips until she can shimmy out of them. Ana unbuttons my pants and I begin working on my shirt. Soon we’re both naked, and fuck, I’m going to embarrass myself. She’s so sexy and gorgeous, and also so small. I’ll need to be careful.
But Ana’s not careful. Not with the way she pulls at my shoulders until I’m on top of her again, not with the way she kisses me or grinds herself against my hard cock. I can feel how wet she is, and my entire body shudders.
Eagerly, she grasps me in her right hand and guides me to her center. At my hesitation, she whimpers. “Please.” And then she’s gripping my ass muscles as I thrust forward.
Overcome by a kick of desire so fierce, I have no choice but to respond.
I may be the one on top, but Ana is the one calling the shots. With her murmured praise, she directs me. With her body’s response to my hard, deep thrusts and her cries of pleasure, she lets me know when I find the right spot. The electrified gasp she makes when my fingers find her clit urges me on.
With each slow, even stroke, Ana loses her self-control. She moans and tilts her hips to erase any remaining distance between us, and I can’t get enough. She feels so good. Wet and hot and wonderful.
Her breath comes faster against the hollow of my throat until she comes apart, quaking beneath me and clinging to my shoulders with a final soft cry of pleasure.
A couple more pumps and I follow her over the edge, emptying myself inside her.
Afterward, I hold her and wait for regret to come. But it doesn’t. There’s only a deep sense of satisfaction and an unfamiliar softness inside my chest.
That was fucking intense. And perfect. And so hot.
The feelings of regret come later. Or more specifically, in the morning when I wake and find the bed next to me empty.
11
* * *
Time to Focus on Me
Ana
Standing in front of the guest bathroom mirror and wearing nothing but a towel, I take in my flushed cheeks and tangled hair.
Last night was unexpected, and yeah, a little crazy, I can see that now. It was hot and passion-filled, and at the same time, tender. More tender than I expected sex to be with such a huge, brooding man.
But Grant’s body moved with the confidence of an experienced lover, wringing every last ounce of pleasure from me before finally letting himself go—with a delicious low-sounding grunt and a deep rumbling groan. The feel of his stubble against my skin, the way his teeth grazed my neck right before he climaxed . . . His big body positioned over mine, his impressive length stretching me with a welcome sting. The memory of it makes my inner muscles clench in tribute to how amazing the sex was.
All I wanted in that moment was for him to erase every ugly memory that had clouded my brain over the past week. And I was so greedy, taking first the comfort that he offered, and then pleasure. So much pleasure, it was blinding—all consuming. The best sex of my life, which I try not to focus on because I’m not sure it’s ever going to happen again.
Sex with Jason was good. But there was nothing merely good with sleeping with Grant.
First, he’s huge—everywhere. I shiver even now at the memory of reaching beneath the elastic of his boxers for the first time. And second, he was so confident, so sure. The way he moved. The way he kissed me. With complete control and laser focus.
Dear God. I suck in a huge breath, ignoring the way my lower half tingles without my permission.
Okay, stop it, Ana. Nothing good can come from this. It was a one-time thing.
Grant’s been so kind to me, a good friend. I’m not going to use him as some meaningless rebound fling. And heaven knows I’m certainly not ready for something more serious than that, anyway.