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She smiled.
She was goading him on purpose. Loving that every remark brought out more of his power. And she needed to be taken over.
“Oh, you don’t like that? You know, I didn’t cry once,” she said. “I didn’t sit around in a depression longing for you.”
His eyes narrowed. “Of course you didn’t. That’s not your style, baby.” With his hand still on her throat, he slowly skimmed his thumb along her jaw. “You might not have cried and swooned, but I bet you cursed and raged.”
She gasped. All the endless nights over the past six months hitting her at once. The day after she left him, she cussed every time she looked in the mirror. She kicked the door open every day when she came home from work. She threw her sheets off her bed because she couldn’t stand them against her skin. They were cold. Too cold.
He was right.
She was in a rage.
Sad rage.
His mouth against her, he whispered, “Tell me how you dealt with it.”
She swallowed hard, thinking about just that . . .
How had she dealt with the separation? With missing him. With the rage of needing him.
“You told me last night,” he pushed. “Told me you touched yourself thinking of me. Told you haven’t been with anyone but me. Because they just aren’t good enough for you, are they, baby?”
He slid his hand from her throat to her mouth, trailing his fingers over her lips.
“You thought of me like this . . .” He gave her hair a playful yet curt pull.
She moaned.
“You thought of me taking over . . . owning you . . .” He dipped his first two fingers inside her mouth, and she sucked them. “You know how I know that?”
She shook her head.
He withdrew his fingers from her lips and then put them between her legs, right at her opening. “Because I remember you begging me for it. Loving how you submitted to me. And I gave you what you wanted, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” she whispered. His fingers teasing her opening. She shifted her hips, trying to get him to put them inside.
“Greedy girl,” he said. “Befo
re you get what you want, tell me what I want to hear.”
She met his eyes. “I did want it. I still do. You’re the only one . . .”
“The only one what?” he said through clenched teeth. She knew what he wanted to hear. Knew they’d been dancing around this, and she had to admit it. Would implode from need or heat if she couldn’t have him.
“You’re the only one I’ve ever loved.”
The moment the last word slipped out of her mouth, Grant slid those two wet fingers inside her all the way to the hilt.
“Oh God, Grant,” she muttered; her head fell forward, and she bit down on his shoulder.
His entire body shifted, or maybe it was his mood. Or both. Because while he still held that power she loved so much, there was that deep care in him that she trusted. Grant wouldn’t hurt her. Wouldn’t let her fall. Wouldn’t deny her. She knew that. Bone-deep, she truly believed that.
With his free hand, he grabbed her wrist and placed her hand on the top of his head, tangling her fingers into his hair.
“Do not let go,” he said.
She nodded and held tight to his hair as he slid down to his knees. With his fingers still deep inside her, he opened her legs wider and buried his face between her thighs.
