His lips trail up my legs, and he places a soft kiss below my belly button. He hooks his thumbs in the waistband of my panties, dragging them down slowly until I can kick my feet free.
When he rises, we both stand back a bit, fully and finally bared to one another.
Grayson reaches out, tracing the tips of his fingersacross my collarbone, down along the swells of my breasts, over the plane of my stomach. Our mouths meet again, and still, we take our time. We know each other’s bodies pretty well by now, but that doesn’t stop the exploration, as if by exchanging these new words, setting a new path for our relationship, we’re discovering each other again like it’s the first time.
My fingers skirt over the bulges of muscle in his back, the individual ridges of his abs, the solid trunk of his thighs. I send them back up, brushing over the thick and hard length of him. He groans into my mouth, and I swallow it like it’s champagne.
His arms wrap tightly around me as he lowers us both to the soft, fluffy rug directly in front of the fire. I have a hard time remembering what it felt like to be cold, because the heat of him, of us, is everywhere. The hard, hot length of his body covers me, and I don’t think I’ll ever be cold again.
His mouth trails down my neck once again, although this time he doesn’t linger. He cups my breast in his hand, his tongue swirling around the bud of my nipple until it’s peaked and aching. When I moan, he takes it in his mouth, sucking until my hips buck beneath him, before moving on to the next and delivering the same deliciously frustrating treatment.
My core is throbbing, begging for pressure, and my body shifts under his, searching for relief. His mouth finally moves farther south, kissing every inch of my exposed belly before he settles himself between my legs. He nips at the thin skin of my inner thighs as his fingers part me, skirting the edges, touching me everywhere except where I need to be touched.
“Grayson, please,” I beg. “I need you.”
He growls—legitimately growls—and his lips are so close to my core it sends a vibration through me.
When his tongue finally traces me, opens me, I cry out. I lace my fingers through his hair, and when our gazes meet, his pupils are so blown his eyes look black.
He teases me, the tip of his tongue licking up my seam, swirling my clit before he takes the bud in his mouth, sucking until I can’t breathe. Two fingers slip inside me, and all at once I shatter, convulsing around him, my hips rocking against his mouth, his name caught in the back of my throat.
He removes his fingers, planting soft and light kisses on my now slightly sweaty skin while I try to piece myself back together.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he mutters into my neck. “I almost came just watching you.”
I take his face in my hands, bringing his lips to mine. “I’m glad you didn’t.” I give him a wicked smile, wrapping my hand around his cock.
“I need to fuck you, Emmy.” He reaches for his jeans, searching for a condom.
I stop his hand. “I’m on birth control, and I get tested regularly. I haven’t been with anyone else since we started sleeping together.”
He swallows thickly, his hand coming to cup my cheek, his thumb running over my jaw. “I haven’t either.” He brushes his lips against mine in the faintest of kisses. “I don’t want to pressure you.”
I place both hands on his chest. “It was my idea. I trust you, Grayson.”
His hand travels from my cheek down my sternum to my belly until it lands between my legs. He strokes me slowly, until I’m aching for him. I take him in my hand, guiding him to me.
“You’re sure?”
I nod. “Are you?”
He answers by pushing into me with one hard thrust.
It knocks the wind out of both of us, and for a minute we just lay there, our limbs intertwined, Grayson buried deep inside me.
His movements start slow, his thrusts long and deep, filling me to a completeness I’ve never felt before. He grunts my name, burying his face in my neck and the tangles of my hair. He thrusts harder and faster, and I clutch at the muscles of his back as the tension starts to rise inside me.
My muscles clench around him, and he groans. “Fuck, Emmy.”
His mouth finds mine as we tumble over the edge together, every part of us connected. We ride out the aftershocks, all trembling hearts and intertwined limbs and desperate kisses.
When we’re finally settled and whole, Grayson stands, scooping me into his arms and carrying me the short distance to the bed. We tuck ourselves under the covers, his huge body curling around me.
And I fall asleep in Grayson West’s arms.
Chapter Eighteen
I wake up on the final day of shooting to the sound of my alarm and within the warmth of Grayson’s arms. He groans as my phone continues to beep. His call time is—once again—not for another two hours, so I silence the incessant ringing and slip out of bed.
