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Alive. On fire. Excited. Happy.
After what happened to Ana, I shut down, refused to let anyone get too close to me. Losing her changed so much of my life. For the first time since, I'm excited about the world again. I don't feel like a hapless leaf, floating where the wind blows me. With Gray's arms around me and his growl vibrating in my ear, I feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.
My mama always said I'd know love when I found it because it would make me feel like I was on top of the world. I wouldn't wonder if I was good enough or if he was good enough. I wouldn't worry what anyone else thought or care about their opinions. That's exactly how I feel right now, only it's so much more intense than I thought it would be. I'm not sitting still on top of the world. I'm flying in dizzying circles through the clouds.
I don't ever want to come down again. This is where I belong, right here with him.
He's been a perfect gentleman all day, trying so hard to show that I can trust him. But I don't want him to be a gentleman right now. I want to feel him all over me. I may split apart at the seams if he isn't inside me soon.
I've felt desire before, but never anything like this. It's intense and powerful, addictive. I slip one hand beneath the collar of his shirt, running my fingers down the hewn muscles in his shoulders and upper back. He trembles around me, his growl growing louder.
I smile, pleased with his reaction. I like knowing I affect him as much as he does me.
He grips my ass with both hands, locking my body against his as he marches toward the stairs. If I'm heavy to him, he doesn't show it. His expression is so dark with desire his eyes almost glow with it behind his glasses. He's always gorgeous, but right now, he's some other level of sexy. It's the way he looks at me and touches me like heknowsI belong to him. His touch sears me with possession, calling to some part of me I never knew existed until he released it.
"Goddamn, angel," he growls, his grip tightening when I nip his ear and then his throat. His stubble feels like heaven against my skin. I can't help but wonder what it'll feel like in other places. Will it tickle or burn? Will it make me moan and tremble? I'm dying to find out.
He stumbles into the banister railing when I bite him again.
"Oh," I moan when he smacks my ass hard enough to make it sting.
"Behave before I drop you," he growls. "You can play when I get us upstairs."
"Move faster then."
He chuckles through a groan. "My dick is hard enough to break off and I've got poison ivy on my ass," he rumbles. "If I move any faster, I'm going to damage something. And if it's my dick, I might actually fucking cry. I need in you."
I bury my face in his throat, giggling. He's such a mess. I never knew that could be so attractive, but there's nothing about him I don't like. I've never laughed as much with anyone as I have with him today. He's bossy and competitive and still manages to have fun no matter what he's doing.
I love that he didn't let me win today like most men would have. He made me fight for every game. He kicked my ass in most of them, but I had so much fun trying to beat him that Ididn't care about losing. Especially when he'd give me that little boy smile after winning. It lights him up from the inside out, making him seem younger than his thirty-two years.
When we reach the top of the stairs, I expect him to go left toward the staircase leading to the second floor, but he doesn't. He goes right, weaving down the hallway until he comes to the end. His house is seriously amazing. I love it so much.
"Oh, wow," I whisper, lifting my head to look around. We're in a natatorium with three glass walls looking out over his backyard. A massive pool shaped almost like an eight dominates the space. The hot tub at the far end spills over into it, naturally warming the water. Sunlight pours in through the windows and the glass roof. The fake plants and flowers turn the room into a giant oasis, with wide chaises that look more like luxurious beds scattered throughout. "It's so beautiful, Gray."
"This pool is the reason I bought the house," he says, carrying me toward the hot tub.
"I don't have a suit," I say when he slides me down his body to my feet.
"Good, because you aren't wearing one." His wanton gaze rakes down my body, burning like fire everywhere it touches me. "It wouldn't last five minutes. I need you naked."
I glance around, my skin flushing. There are windows everywhere. I can see his entire backyard from in here, which means anyone out there can see us just as well. Is it wrong that I don't care? That part of me thrills at the thought of someone seeing us? It's naughty and salacious but it excites part of me anyway.
But I still hesitate to strip. Getting caught might be a naughty fantasy, but that's all it will ever be. The last thing we need is for someone to take pictures of us naked in his hot tub. His reputation can't afford many more hits before people lose patience with him. The world isn't like it was when DerrickLovelace hurt my sister. Men, even powerful men, don't get free passes anymore. Bad behavior doesn't get swept under the rug so easily. Sometimes, all it takes is the suggestion of bad behavior to destroy someone.
I don't want that to be Gray. He deserves for the world to see him for the man he is. It makes me sad that his former publicists all wanted to change him, as if he needs to be someone different to be more palatable. He doesn't. He's pretty damn amazing exactly as he is.
"No one will see us," he says. "We can see out, but no one can see in. Didn't want a bunch of reporters taking pictures of my bare ass through the windows and plastering it all over the internet."
"You do this often?" I blink at him.
"I swim naked," he says, shrugging like it's no big deal. "Why mess up a suit when it's just me?"
Before I can respond to that, he reaches over his head to grab the back of his t-shirt. I lose the ability to speak at all when he pulls it off over his head, tossing it toward a chaise. Good lord. No wonder hockey is such a popular sport. If they all look like him underneath those bulky uniforms, hockey doesn't get nearly enough credit.
The muscles in his upper arms and chest are defined. He doesn't have a six-pack, but his stomach is one thick slab of muscle. It's somehow even sexier than it would be if he were ripped. His chest is bare, but a dark trail of hair disappears into the waistband of his jeans.
"Damn," I whisper, meeting his gaze.
