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“You have no idea how many filthy dreams I’ve had of you and none compare to this––and I haven’t even touched you yet.” His voice is raw with want and need.
Great minds think alike.
“I almost jerked myself raw when I was in L.A.”
With my body primed as it is, I’m going to go off like a rocket from the sound of his voice alone.
I open my arms to him and he lowers himself on top of me, diving for my mouth. He kisses me senseless. Not senseless enough to miss the hard thrust of his hips at just the right angle, however. Or the way his fingers dig into the flesh of my ass––enough to leave fingerprints tomorrow, I’m sure. Or how his other hand firmly grips my hair at the root. Grant is such a physical man I think part of me knew he liked it rough.
“Condom,” he mutters, reluctantly tearing his body away. He rips open a pack with his teeth and suits up. “I apologize now for the hard fucking––I’m too turned on, you’re too much temptation, and it’s been too fucking long for me.”
“How long?” The words pop out of my mouth without permission. Holding my breath, I freeze.
Is that within the rules? Am I even allowed to ask? I don’t know where we stand and I’m new to this. And does it really matter? He’s a man with needs. As long as two people agree on the rules does it matter?
The answer from my kickass self comes almost immediately and it’s a resounding no. I know this man. I know his character. He’s good and kind and loyal as the day is long. My klutzy knight is a noble dude. I don’t care about anything else.
He slowly crawls over my body and pushes my knees apart with his, claiming the space between my legs for himself. Pinning my hips with his pelvis, his erection lined up with my core, he strokes me until I know nothing other than the sensation he’s giving me.
God, I’d forgotten how good this felt. Or maybe how it should’ve felt because nothing compares to him.
“Maybe three years.” He looks off, thinking. “Four…You?”
“Forever,” I barely get out. “Since Ronan.” He keeps stroking me, working me with the head of his shaft. Then he adds his fingers and I’m gone, shuddering from the full body contractions.
Grant rears back and rocks his hips forward. Pulling my leg around his waist, he pushes inside of me to the hilt while my contractions continue and roll over into another orgasm for the ages. On his elbows, he fucks me hard. Hips slamming, skin slapping, deep and hard until he’s close to cresting.
“Grant––I’m coming again. Don’t stop.”
“I’ll give it to you, baby. I’ll give you everything you want just stay with me.”
And he does, staving off his own release to give me what I want…more of him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I lost count of how many times Grant reached for me in the middle of the night. There was all sorts of fucking going on. Slow, hard, sweet, drawn-out. Too drawn-out. The last one almost earned him a black eye.
For a man who never ever utters that word outside the bedroom, he sure uses it enough in bed. Between the sheets, it’s his favorite word. And on the couch. And on the kitchen island. Let’s not forget the shower. He really liked it there. The pool saw some fucking, too. That was not my favorite.
“I got twenty-seven pictures of sand texted to me today from Sam,” he murmurs with a smile. I smile back and trace the shape of his lips with my finger. “Just sand. Nothing else.”
Dawn starts to peek through the drawn curtains in my bedroom.
“Me too. I did get one of him, though. I think Ronan took it.”
“I wish I could’ve seen your brother’s face when he got those.” Grant chuckles darkly. Calvin is not a phone guy. Let’s just leave it there. Thinking of Calvin takes me back to the first day we met.
“Remember when I found you naked in the kitchen?” I start. A hidden memory keeps poking at me. I’m at the edge of remembering and it’s driving me crazy.
“How could I forget? You cost me four tickets.” I slap his chest and he traps my hand over his heart, the best heart I know. Smiling wickedly, he says, “The day you gave me the angry fist, you mean?”
“You’re such a weirdo. I did not give you the angry fist. I was raising my hand because you were ignoring me.” Smiling, he kisses me. “You asked if I remembered you.”
Expression serious, he says, “Do you remember Cal’s draft night?”
“Barely.”
The NFL draft was a whirlwind. I was so nervous for Cal that the day sped by in a blur. I have zero recollection of anything other than Cal’s smile when they called his name and my other brothers screaming at the top of their lungs.
