9. Harley
Chapter Nine
HARLEY
“Yes!” Cat announced, punching a fist into the air.
Grant leaned back in the cushions as he tossed his cards on the coffee table. “I give up.”
“You do?” I couldn't help but laugh.
Cat had persuaded Grant and me to play cards with her. She said she needed to prepare for card nights since they would happen at some point.
“Is this going to be a weekly thing?” Grant asked.
Cat shrugged. “I was thinking once a month. Is that a problem?”
Grant rolled his eyes. “It's more fun when it's just the guys.”
“Well, you live with two women now, so deal with it,” Cat retorted.
I bit back a laugh. Grant looked up. The second his eyes met mine, heat sizzled through me.
I'd been doing a fairly good job, I thought, of avoiding him.
I knew it would be weird if I alerted Cat to that avoidance by declining to join them tonight since we lived together.
I was relieved when he broke away from my gaze first.
Grabbing my glass of wine, I took a swallow. As a disciplined person, I was determined to get myself over this stupid lust crush. “Lush” was what my friend back in Texas called them.
Three days later
“What the hell?” I demanded as I slammed the door behind me.
Grant was seated at the kitchen table. He was wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants with his feet propped up on another chair.
I thrust my jacket off my shoulders, hanging it up and kicking my shoes off as I dropped my purse onto the table by the door. “What did you tell Diego?” I walked quickly through the living room into the kitchen.
“I told him I came in and was pretty sure you'd fainted. I also told him I told you to see a doctor.”
“Grrrr,” I muttered. “How could you do that?”
“Harley, I was concerned about you. I didn't realize it was a secret.”
“Well, Diego's freaking out.”
“Well, maybe if you went to the doctor, nobody would be worried. Did you go see the doctor?”
“Yes,” I ground out. I curled my arms around my waist, spinning away and pacing back and forth by the table.
“I’m not sure why you’re upset. I bet you’d say something to Cat, or Flynn, or Nora if you found me passed out,” Grant pointed out.
He was right, but I wasn’t about to let him know that. I threw my hands up in the air, letting them fall. I stomped back over to him, resting my hands on my hips as I glared at him.
He leaned forward, tossing his phone onto the table, way too calm and relaxed about this.
“So what did the doctor say?”
“Well, it's none of your fucking business, but I am fine. You know medical information is private,” I said.
Grant rolled his eyes. “Fine. You don't have to tell me, but if you’ve got something going on, maybe you could let your family know.”
I flung my hands in the air again. Grant leaned back in his chair. “If you don’t want people to think this is a big deal, maybe you shouldn't be so mad about it.”
“Oh. My. God.”
While I normally had to look up at Grant since I was short and he was tall, we were almost eye level with him seated and me standing. I leaned forward, pressing my fingertip into his chest.
Grant’s silvery-blue eyes met mine, darkening.
I abruptly realized, way too late, that I was waaa-yyy too close to him.
With my fingertip pressed into his chest, I could feel the heat emanating from him.
It traveled up my arm, flames flickering and radiating outward.
My belly flipped, and my breath became short.
I tried to tell myself to back away, but I couldn’t. I clung to my anger like a lifeline. “You shouldn't have told Diego anything. It's my business.”
Grant didn't look away. It felt as if he were meeting the dare I'd flung in his direction and catching the fiery arrow of it. He actually shrugged, narrowing his eyes. “What exactly are you going to do about it?”
I opened my mouth to say something, but then I leaned closer.
I didn't know what I wanted. I didn't intend to kiss him, but maybe I was.
I still hadn't forgotten our kiss from the other night. I’d told myself for days that I would remember all the reasons kissing Grant Walker was a foolish, stupid idea and never kiss him again.
Foolish or not, my body had its own opinion. Our mouths met, and it felt as if lightning bolts struck between us. I was fighting a war within myself, and it was futile. His hand slid around to cup my nape, drawing me closer.
All rational thought scattered like leaves blown away with a bracing gust of wind. I shimmied onto his lap, straddling him. He was all lean muscle, fluid under my touch, warm and strong and hard in more places than one. I shimmied even closer, savoring the feel of his arousal against me.
I gasped when he snaked an arm around my waist, banding me tight against him. All of this felt so good. My nipples ached where they pressed against his muscled chest.
I broke free from his mouth, sucking in deep lungfuls of air. Our eyes met, and we stared at each other. It was as if we had an entire conversation without words.
This is crazy.
I know. But it feels so good.
I know.
It's stupid.
I know, but I want you too much.
I didn't realize I whispered that last part aloud until he whispered in return, “I know. I do too.”
On the heels of another breath, we were kissing again. He drew away too soon. For a split second, I thought he was going to be the sane one. He would tell me we should stop right now and slam the brakes on this madness.
Instead, he nipped at my earlobe, and I shivered in his arms, biting my lip.
I tried to hold back a moan, but it slipped out.
His lips teased at the sensitive skin just beneath my ear before blazing a trail of hot kisses down my neck.
One kiss followed the next with a soft brush of his lips, open and wet.
Goose bumps broke out all over my skin, and sensation sizzled down my spine in a fiery shiver.
He muttered something, lifting his head and hooking his hand on the hem of my shirt.
In another second, cool air struck my skin as he lifted it up and over my head.
I was a practical woman for the most part, except when it came to my underwear.
Today, I wore a deep navy silk bra, the cups barely covering my nipples.
Grant’s gaze dipped down and then lifted to mine again, the look there dark.
“Fuck, Harley,” he whispered.
His knuckles trailed across the tops of my breasts as he lowered his head. His tongue teased just above the silk before he dipped lower, his mouth closing over one of my nipples through the silk. My finger speared his hair, and I cried out sharply.
He lifted his head again. “You're so fucking sexy.”
I opened my mouth to argue. He put a finger over my lips. “Don't argue with me.”
I fumbled to reach for his shirt, demanding, “Take your shirt off.”
“Yes, ma'am,” he returned, his lips curling in a sly smile as he reached behind his head.
He yanked his shirt off, and then all of that muscle was pressed against me. His skin was warm to the touch and felt like fire against mine. The contrast of his hard-muscled chest against my softness was intoxicating.
Sensations overrode my sanity. It was as if the fuse box in my brain was flicked off. All reason was overridden by the pure need, want, and fire storming through my system.
His palm splayed on my lower back and then slid up my spine, levering me forward as he fit his mouth to mine in a devouring, claiming kiss. Grant was such an easygoing guy, always quick with a smile and lightness to his laugh. I didn't expect this intensity, this edge of possessiveness.
Our tongues dueled, and I felt myself tumbling, my need for control falling to the wayside in the rush of this tide of desire to simply let myself be claimed by this man. And claim me, he did. One devouring kiss after another.
His hands mapped my body, cupping my breasts and teasing them until I was begging, “Grant, please…”
His low chuckle against my skin sent fire licking over the surface.
My bra fell away, and his lips closed over a nipple.
The hot shock of it released a ragged cry from me.
I rocked my hips over his thick swollen length nestled at the apex of my thighs.
The rough friction created by our clothes generated this sweet, piercing pleasure that was spinning and cresting in little waves.
I felt my release teetering, and I wanted it so bad.
Grant murmured, “Hang on.”
He set me back off his lap. I felt bereft and nearly protested.
He had so much more control than I did. He unbuttoned my jeans, and his fingers slipped between my thighs as he shoved them down.
I was wet, dripping wet, slippery with arousal.
His eyes held mine, and I couldn't look away as he delved into the very heart of me.
With my jeans still half on, the friction was intense.
His fingers pumped in and out, the heel of his palm riding over my clit again and again.
I tried to cling to some control, but I couldn't. My orgasm hit me abruptly, those tiny waves of pleasure rolling into a massive, crashing release. I let out a choked cry as I shuddered all over, my knees giving out as he pulled me onto his lap.
The pleasure seemed to go on and on and on, finally slowing with tiny waves lapping through me. I was limp and sated as I sat there curled against him. He slowly withdrew his fingers, and I dragged my eyes open. He was watching me, looking as stunned as I felt, which was a relief.
I nearly came again when he lifted his fingers and licked them, murmuring, “I need to know what you taste like.”
He dropped his hand and kissed me again. I tasted the subtle tang of my own arousal against his lips. A moment later, he lifted his head, murmuring, “Cat will be here any minute.”
I scrambled off his lap, and we yanked our clothes back on in a rush. I glanced at the clock, realizing she usually did get here around this time because she did baking prep for the following morning. Just then, I heard her footsteps on the stairs.