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His words hung between them, dancing from his breath to hers. She’d missed this, too. The need and ache and soft fall into him. She didn’t know what to say. Worried that whatever she tried to say would be exactly wrong, or perfectly right. So she kissed him. Closed her lips over his. She released his cock and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him close. That was all he needed, because she felt that hot steel surge deep inside her.
“Home,” he whispered against her ear. So low and soft she almost missed it. Was he telling her he missed his home? Telling her she was his home? She hoped for the latter but didn’t want to get swept up.
He stayed buried deep and stirred. Clutching her close, keeping her immobile against him. He had her pinned between the ledge and himself, and he owned her. Took her exactly as he wanted, just like she wanted. Deep, hard, and consuming.
He was hitting the spot inside that made stars dance behind her eyes, and she kissed him.
“This what you wanted, baby?” he asked.
She nodded, tracing his lips with her tongue. Her blood simmered, her bones rattled with the orgasm that was creeping up on her.
He thrust deeper but never pulled away. He was taking her from the inside out, and she had no idea where her skin stopped and his body continued. Complete.
Home . . .
She felt that word settle into her stomach like it belonged there. Like Grant was the new definition of that single syllable. She couldn’t reason with her own thoughts, because her skin started pricking and her toes tingled. Pleasure surged from the middle of her spine through every vein until she burned up.
“I’m coming,” she breathed. Then Grant’s name was on her lips. A chant, a prayer, she didn’t know, but he was the only thing she understood.
“I feel you, baby. I’m with you.” He buried his face in her hair and hugged her like he’d never see her again. His body tensed, and with his cock deep inside her, she caught every ounce of pleasure that shot through him.
She didn’t know what she mumbled next. She just knew she was spent.
Grant had succeeded in making her beg and barter, and now he’d exhausted her into a sex-induced coma.
Chapter Six
She still loves me . . .
Grant hadn’t gotten that thought out of his head since Hannah had uttered those words to him a few nights ago.
And what a night that had been.
He wanted Hannah more than damn near anything, and the way she pushed him, wanted to see all of him, made him want to give it. And he wanted to give her more. But she’d been tired, and in her defense, he had exhausted her.
He smiled and gave himself a mental high five that he still got his wife off so well that she almost lapsed into unconsciousness from the pleasure.
That’s when she’d said it . . .
“I love you.”
He replayed those words over and over and over.
It had been present tense and the most honest, best thing he’d ever heard in his life. He missed hearing it from her. Missed knowing it. But he did know it. Deep down, she loved him, and that was the hope he kept clinging to. And his stubborn wife was giving him crumbs to add to that hope.
“You talented son of a bitch,” Jake said from the other side of the pool table.
Grant stood, holding his pool stick after nailing a perfect shot. “This is a pretty great way to spend a lunch hour,” Grant said to his friend.
“Not so great for Jake, since he’s losing,” Gabe said from the corner, looking over the balls spread out on the table. Grant had met the deputy through Jake and Cal at the Crow’s Nest a few nights back. Since then, the guys had invited him out for their weekly Wednesday lunch session, which was a beer, a game, and catching up midweek to make plans for the weekend. Grant was liking this idea of . . . friends. He was seeing why people enjoyed genuine relationships with others. It was why he’d fallen for Hannah so far and fast. Now seeing her town and the people she’d grown up with, he was getting the notion that spending time in a place you loved with people who cared could have advantages over a big, cold city with a heartless mother and endless business discussions.
“Cal is still showing up, right?” Grant asked as Jake leaned in to take his shot.
“Yeah, I think he’s preparing his portfolio, though,” Gabe said. The man was nice and apparently well known around town. Jake kept calling him MEB, which stood for Most Eligible Bachelor.
“That guy has talent. I saw that subdiv
ision he’s working on when I drove around the other day,” Grant said and took a drink from his longneck. He had chatted with Cal about an investment opportunity and told him he’d be happy to discuss his business. But this business didn’t feel like the cold New York he normally dealt with. He knew these men—at least, he was getting to know them—and he cared.
