Page 87

He lifted one of her feet and eased the sock on. Lucy moaned, arching her back as his fingers moved around her ankle, skimming up her calf. Heat burned through him. She had no idea what she was doing to him.

He did the same with her other foot, and she continued to moan, breathing quick and short as he touched her, this time spreading her legs apart. The sight scorched through him.

She needed to stop expeditiously, before his hand moved higher and higher up her legs, stopping only when his fingers had slipped into her underwear. He still remembered how she had felt against his hand that morning and ached to touch her again.

And then she wouldn’t just be moaning—she’d be screaming his name.

“Lucinda,” he growled. She bit her lower lip, tipping her head back, exposing her throat. Her chest heaved.

“I love it when you scold me,” she said. She brought a hand up to her breast, squeezing. Her mouth jutted open with pleasure, and Grayson swore.

This was not good. Head spinning, he bolted from the room, every part of him aching to stay.

He went to his bathroom, splashing his face with cold water, trying desperately not to think of her in the other room, in nothing but a little sweaterdress.

He remembered the last time she was in nothing but a sweater, how she had tasted as she came in his mouth. He’d licked up every last drop; the thought made him salivate even now.

“Fuck.” He gripped the sink edge, knuckles turning white. He glared at himself in the mirror. “Get ahold of yourself.”

Grayson splashed more cold water over his face, taking deep breaths in and out until his blood cooled. He changed into gray sweatpants and a T-shirt, ready to sleep this off.

But when he opened the bathroom door, he found Lucy had ditched the guest room and was lying on his bed, pouting at him.

“You left me!” she said, upset. His heart rate spiked.

All the effort he’d taken to calm down was undone; his blood lit aflame at the sight of her bare legs, her sweater riding up her hips to reveal the white underwear he’d caught a glimpse of earlier. He desperately tried not to think about how the fabric would soak between her legs, sticking to her.

“Lucy, go to sleep,” he begged, trying not to look at her, but it was impossible with her sprawled across his bed like that, her hair fanning out around her.

It would be so easy, so fucking easy …

“Only if you lie down with me,” she said, reaching for him.

She was trying to kill him. Actually kill him.

“Okay,” he said, voice rough. Grayson lay down beside her, as far away as he could. The pout morphed into a smile.

“Much better.” She sat up, and before he could ask what she was doing, she pulled her dress off, and all speech abandoned him. She was in nothing but her bra and panties. His skin burned, the breath knocked out of him.

“Lucy,” he whined, which only made her smile wider. She threw a leg over his hips until he was rooted in place between her knees.

She hovered above him, not touching him, and all he could do was stare up at her, at the beautiful lines of her body. She leaned forward, her hair skimming across his chest. He fisted his hands at his sides, using all his self-control not to grab her.

Then, with a little shimmy, she settled onto his lap.

A bolt of desire shot straight through him. Unfortunately, she was quite close to where the desire directly went, and he knew she felt it from the way she bit her lower lip, teeth sinking in.

With a mischievous look, she put her hands on his chest and inched her body higher, sliding against him and pressing right where he needed her, resulting in catastrophic effects.

His blood pounded painfully.

“Lucinda,” he hissed, hoping his stern tone might dissuade her. Impossibly, it seemed to have the opposite effect. Gasping, she moved her hips, rubbing against him with urgency.

Fuck fuck fuck. The thought went through him as both a curse and a command, every cell in his body chanting the word. It took every ounce of self-restraint he had not to seize her right then.

“You hate me,” Grayson said, voice strangled as she slowly trailed her hands up his body. He hoped the reminder might deter her, but she cocked her head to the side.

“Do I?” she asked, hands coming around his throat, her nails dragging lightly across his skin. She was lying almost entirely flat on top of him now.