“Do you mean that?”
“No. I’m lying. Now let me go!”
Sober me would have released her, knowing this conversation is entering dangerous territory. But drunk me doesn’t care. No. It wants to know. It wants the reassurance, needs it.
“Am I enough for you, Miranda?” I grab her jaw, forcing her to look at me. “Are my son and I enough of a reason for you to stay?”
She swallows, and the answer is in her eyes before it hits her lips.
“Yes.” The word is reluctant and torn from her, and she won’t look at me when she says it.
“You won’t leave me?”
“I mean I’m here for the next six months or so.”
“Miranda.” I tilt her head up, my heart pounding. “I don’t want your wit or your sarcasm tonight. Tell me.”
She wets her lips and then mutters, “What if I say I won’t leave? What does that change?”
“Everything,” I breathe before slamming my mouth down on hers.
Miranda stiffens in my arms, her body going tense against mine. For a moment, she doesn’t respond, her hands resting uncertainly on my chest. I can feel the hesitation in her, the way she holds herself back even as her lips part under the heat of my kiss.
I’m leaning back against the kitchen island, the edge digging into my lower back. I tighten my grip on her waist and turn her around so her back is to the counter instead, then lift her easily onto it. The movement breaks the kiss for only a second before I claim her mouth again, slower this time, coaxing her to open for me.
She stays stiff for another heartbeat, her fingers curling into my shirt like she’s fighting two instincts at once. Then my hand slides up her back, warm and steady, stroking along her spine. I kiss her deeper, pouring everything I’m feeling into it—the need, the desperation, the fear of losing her. Slowly, I feel her start to melt. A soft, reluctant sigh escapes her as she finally kisses me back.
I keep her there on the counter, my body pressed firmly between her thighs. One hand cups the back of her neck while the other grips her hip, holding her in place as I kiss her like I’ve been starving for her—slow, worshipful, and thorough. She tries to pull me closer by tugging at my shirt, but I don’t let her set the pace. I tighten my hold and keep leading, drawing more soft sounds from her until her body grows pliant in my arms.
Only when she’s melting against me, her hands clutching my shoulders instead of resisting, do I lift her off the counter. Her legs wrap around my waist instinctively as I carry her down the hallway, careful not to make too much noise. The bedroom door closes quietly behind us.
I lay her down on the bed and follow her, covering her body with mine. She immediately reaches for me, her hands slidingunder my shirt, trying to pull it off as she arches up to kiss my neck and chest.
“Grayson…” There’s a breathless hint of protest in her voice.
I catch her wrists and pin them above her head with one hand, kissing her slowly until she softens again. “Let me take care of you tonight.”
I strip her tank top off, revealing her breasts. A low groan escapes me at the sight. I cup them in both hands, squeezing gently, feeling their softness and weight. I lean down and take one nipple into my mouth, sucking slowly at first, then deeper, swirling my tongue around the tight peak while my hand kneads the other breast, thumb brushing over her nipple until she arches beneath me.
I switch sides, lavishing the same attention on her other breast—licking, sucking, and grazing my teeth lightly while my free hand continues to caress and squeeze. Her breathing grows ragged, her chest rising and falling quickly under my mouth.
My hand slides down her stomach and into her shorts. I push her panties aside and stroke her folds, finding her slick and ready. Slowly, I ease one thick finger inside her.
Miranda gasps sharply, her back arching off the bed. “Oh—”
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” I rasp against her breast. My wolf shoves up under my skin at the feel of her clenching around my finger, a low growl building before I can swallow it back. “So wet. So tight around just one finger I can barely move.”
She lets out a shaky moan, her thighs trembling as she instinctively tries to rock against my hand. Her breathing turns uneven, little whimpers slipping from her lips every time I curl my finger.
My mouth finds her collarbone. The pulse point above it is so close I can feel it under my lips. My wolf strains toward it. I drag my mouth lower instead.
I add a second finger, pushing in slowly, stretching her. Miranda’s eyes flutter shut, and she bites her lip hard, a broken sound escaping her throat. Her walls clench tightly around my fingers, almost pulsing.
“Grayson…” she whimpers, her voice wrecked.
My wolf presses against the inside of my ribs, pushing me to take more. I drag my mouth down the valley between her breasts. “That’s it. Feel how tight you are. You’re squeezing my fingers so perfectly. I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”
I pump my fingers deeper, curling them with every stroke while my thumb finds her clit, circling it slowly. Miranda’s hips jerk, her head falling back against the pillow as soft, desperate moans spill from her. Her hands strain against my hold, trying to reach for me, her nails lightly scraping my shoulders as she loses herself in the sensation.
