Page 72 of Once Upon a Grump


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The sound of Max’s voice from behind her door cut off abruptly once we came in.

Christian frowned. “She’s still awake?”

“Probably on the phone with a boy,” I said, secretly hoping she’d patched things up with that guy who broke her heart because he wanted to be with someone he could see in person. Maybe she’d told him she was going to Fairhope High after all.

“Like fuck she is,” he growled.

I rolled my eyes. “You can either be cool about your niece dating and liking boys and she just might talk to you about it. Or you can try to forbid her and she’ll do it anyway behind your back. Better to make your choice now.”

He scowled in the direction of her door, but when he looked down at me, I could see his thoughts had already shifted gears. There was a smoldering look in his eyes. “Bedroom. Now.”

“I need a shower,” I said. “It was muggy out and I feel gross.”

It looked like Christian wanted to argue, so I gave him an innocent shrug. “You could help clean me off,” I suggested.

He made me giggle when he scooped me up and carried me through the apartment, kicking open doors and expertly swinging me through doorways without bashing my head or my feet on anything. He locked the bathroom door, then pulled me into the shower and turned on the water without even stopping to take off our clothes.

I gasped and sucked in a breath when the cold water hit me. “What the hell!” I laughed.

Christian pulled me closer. “It’ll heat up in here. That’s a guarantee.”

“Did you just soak me and my clothes in cold water for the sake of a cheesy line?”

“Yes,” he said.

The water pattered against our clothes, probably ruining his expensive dress shoes and shirt. If he cared, he gave no sign of it. He put his hands around the small of my back and pulled me toward him. The water was hitting his back and rolling off his shoulders to splatter me. It was finally getting warmer.

His hair hung down in dark clumps, dripping down his beautiful face.

I lifted my fingertips and dragged them down his shirt where I could see the white fabric clinging to his skin. I thumbed his nipple, playfully biting my lip and looking up at him. “You know,” I said. “It’s a lot harder to take off wet clothes. You’re going to regret this.”

“I’ll manage.”

Christian started working on my clothes. He was rough with them and didn’t seem to care if he ripped or tore things in his hurry to get them off. After an enjoyable minute or two of watching him work to strip me down, my clothes were in a wet pile between our feet. He looked at my naked body and made a low, growling sound before cupping one breast and taking my ass in his big hand, squeezing hard. He lifted me and pinned me to the wall, lifting my leg so my sex was against the hard shape of his erection.

He kissed me hard, tilting my chin back and teasing my tongue with his.

In a matter of moments, I was desperate to have him. I wanted all of him. I wanted him inside me, around me, kissing me, loving me. I swallowed, distracted by the thoughts running through my head, even as he stepped back from me and started tearing his clothes off.

Loving me? Was that really what I wanted or expected from him?

I’d come to Colorado to escape the mess I left behind. The plan had been to avoid getting entangled in any more drama, and now I was here in the shower with my boss hoping he was falling for me like I was falling for him? But the sight of him literally ripping his button-down shirt open pulled me back to the moment.

I giggled, flinching back as a rogue button bounced off my collarbone and clicked to the floor.

He shoved his pants down and stood there, fully naked and fully perfect. Rivulets of water ran down his powerful chest and across the ripples of his abs–down the sharp “V” of muscle that led straight to the most beautiful erect penis I’d ever laid eyes on–not that it was an excessively long list, but still.

“Bring that over here,” I said, beckoning with one finger.

He didn’t need me to ask twice. He only stopped to fish a condom from his soaked pants and slid it on, then he came to me.

Christian’s hands were in my hair and his tongue was in my mouth. My leg was up and around his waist so my heel dug in his muscular ass as he ground against me, animalistic in his search for friction.

I reached between us and gripped him, letting him fuck my hand.

But I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed him inside me. Foreplay could go fuck itself.

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