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Next thing I know, my legs are looped around his waist and he has me pressed up against the washing machine, the bulge in his jeans grinding between my legs, his rough grunt spilling in my mouth.
He’s pure business, claiming what he wants, pressing my butt hard against the washer like a storm pressed into a man.
I’m gone like butter under a heat lamp.
Breathless whimpers become full-bodied moans against his marauding tongue. He pushes my lips open with a growl and takes me over, takes what’s his, what’s always belonged to him since that first strange night together, if I’m brutally honest.
Oh. My. God.
The kiss turns openmouthed, a hundred degrees hotter than the air outside, tongues swirling, tasting, fencing.
Every time I try to drift away, mostly for precious oxygen, his fierce lips keep our mouths fused.
I swear, he’s determined to flipping brand me with one long vicious kiss.
His hands glide under my dress, skimming up my thighs, his calloused skin raking against my softness.
Oh, wow.
Wow.
I love it, every searing second.
But love doesn’t do justice to every wild touch, every caress and stroke.
Love can’t describe the need, the shock, the fury to have him inside me.
In all of two minutes, I’m completely drunk on his rough hands.
“Grady!” I whimper, digging my nails into his back.
All he has to do is unzip his pants, bite my lip, and plunge in.
I’m that ready.
Yes, it’s insane how fast it’s happening, but the lightning swiftness makes it that much more exciting. Makes me that much crazier, wishing he’d take me right now.
He doesn’t, though.
With a few smaller, softer, sweeter kisses, he rears back, pressing his forehead against mine.
“Shit, sorry. That was my fault. I’ve been trying not to all day. I just fucking broke, Willow.”
“Why?” I ask, running a hand across his cheek, adoring the soft scratch of his scruff. “Don’t get second thoughts. I liked it.”
“Why? Because you’re so fuck-hot it kills me. And because I think I’d rather let Bruce out of the barn than deal with the fallout from this,” he rasps, shoving his forehead against mine harder. “Don’t know what the hell came over me. This isn’t right.”
I run my hands down his massive arms that are still holding me against him.
No matter what he says, his body has a different sense of right and wrong.
My legs are still wrapped around his waist. Even if he’s full of regrets, it isn’t smothering the fire, the heave of his chest as he draws another breath and then beams fire in his gaze.
“Quit apologizing. I obviously don’t mind,” I whisper, panting the words, staring into deep-brown eyes that promise devastation.
The kind of ruin any woman would die for.
He chuckles, lifting his head to look at me.
“I don’t do this shit, Willow. I don’t kiss strange women who only show up because they need help—I don’t let my dick get me into trouble. Hell, I don’t even date.” His chest heaves, and he looks away, wrestling his lust like an angry serpent.
Frowning, I know the real reason, the one he doesn’t say—he’s not ready to move on—yet I also know his wife is long dead, and he’s still very much alive.
“Grady, baby, I’m not asking for flowers and candy or a nice dinner out,” I say, locking my gaze with his so he can’t look away. “I’m only here for a short time. I’d never expect more than today...more than tonight.”
His lips turn down, brows pulled together, strained in thought. “You mean...”
I shrug.
“A little tension relief would be healthy for both of us. Just sayin’.”
His frown deepens as he releases me and starts to turn.
Sigh.
Smiling, I unhook my legs from his waist and lower them to the floor. Then I stand, fixing my dress as I push my other hand to his deliciously bulky shoulder.
“A hot fling without commitments isn’t a sin, Grady. I know you’re kinda old-fashioned, but hear me out. To me, it’s two healthy adults having fun. There’s nothing wrong with that whatsoever.” I plant a quick kiss on his lips. “Let me know if you change your mind. You know where to find me.”
“Willow—”
He turns to look at me, all single dad Zeus, thunder in his voice and bolts in his eyes.
The roar of four-wheelers sounds, this time closer to the house.
Oof. Apparently that hot-as-hell make-out session went on longer than I thought.
I step away from him, afraid I’ve gone too far.
I don’t know what I’m doing.
I’ve truly never thrown myself at a man like this.
“If you’re not interested, that’s cool, too,” I tell him. “You’ve got a lot on your plate. I get it. It wasn’t fair for me to—”
He grasps my arm so suddenly I gasp.
“Woman, I am damn interested. I started it, but the girls—”
Smiling, I push a finger to his lips, cutting him off.
I don’t want him to finish.
