Chapter 25
Heather
The first thing I’m aware of is that it must be morning, because I can see the sunlight even through my closed eyelids. The second thing is the pounding in my head.
It isn’t the horrible, awful kind of hangover that makes me want to curl into the fetal position and cry, but it’s still intense enough to let me know I had more wine than I probably should have last night.
And now, finally, I’m aware of the hard, warm, massive body that’s resting against my back.
My eyes fly open, and I start to gasp, but catch myself just in time before I can say or do anything truly embarrassing.
Because it’s Grant, of course.
He’s behind me, with one heavy arm draped across my waist and his broad chest rising and falling with slow, even breaths against my shoulder blades. His body is solid but still warm and inviting, and I can feel every taut muscle and hard plane through the thin fabric of my dress.
My dress.
I’m still wearing my outfit from last night, and speaking of truly embarrassing, I don’t know if I’ll ever live down the way I acted when he got home.
He’s still here, though. Shirtless and protective, and too damn hot for his own good, even fast asleep.
I shift slightly and can feel the soft fabric of his pajama pants against my bare legs. Okay, so at least we’re both still fully clothed. Well, mostly clothed.
If I’d had my way, we would’ve been waking up naked and disheveled and probably more than a little ashamed. He really was looking out for me last night, even though it didn’t feel that way in the moment.
And now other fragments of the night are coming back to me as well.
The bar. The wine. Watching him on TV. Coming home and waiting for him.
The things I said—telling him how I touched myself while I thought about him.
Throwing myself at him. Kissing him. Begging him to fuck me, then begging him not to leave me alone when he stuck to his guns like the gentleman he is.
That’s it. I seriously can’t be left unsupervised while I’m drinking wine anymore. Like, ever.
He stayed, though. He didn’t fuck me, but he stayed to make sure I slept. To protect me. And I must have fallen asleep within minutes of my head hitting the pillow, because the last thing I remember is feeling warm and comfortable. Like nothing else mattered, at least for a little while.
His arm tightens around my waist in his sleep, and he pulls me closer against him. He’s hard, and there’s no way to ignore that thick length as it throbs insistently against my ass.
Heat flashes through me, so fast and intense that I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning out loud.
I should stay still until he wakes up on his own. Or maybe I should slowly creep out of bed and put some distance between us before this gets out of hand.
But there’s been a running theme in my life lately of not being very good at doing all the things I should.
So of course I press back against him.
Not forcefully. Just slightly. Just enough to feel the full, heavy weight of his cock as it settles right between my ass cheeks. Then I press back a little more, until a low, rough sound rumbles from his chest.
“If you keep doing that, I’m going to break the promise I made last night.”
There’s no hint of teasing in his words. He really does want to fuck me right now, and that knowledge lights a fire in my core that makes it hard to think about anything else.
With my brain short-circuiting, my body takes over, and I roll my hips back against him until I can feel him harden even more.
“Please,” I whimper, and for a moment I think he might actually give in.
He grips my hip harder, and his breath goes ragged against my neck. But then he stops and rolls me onto my back in one smooth motion that completely turns the tables on me.
Now I’m the one who’s breathless and questioning while he props himself up on his forearms over me. I felt cute and in charge while he was behind me and I was rubbing against him, but this is totally different.
There’s nowhere for me to look except into his eyes or at his broad chest, where every muscle is tight and coiled and made to stand out even more by the tattoos that spread all the way across and down both shoulders and biceps.
“Do you remember what happened last night?” He dips his head low, like he’s going to kiss me, but stops just short of my lips and inhales deeply instead. “Fuck, how do you still smell so good?”
I’m not sure how to answer the second question—or maybe it’s rhetorical and I’m not supposed to answer at all—so I stick to the first.
I know he’s not just testing my memory right now. He’s giving me an out. A chance to pretend I don’t remember at all, to blame last night on the wine and walk back everything I said and did as a drunken mistake.
But I’m not going to lie, and I can’t go back to pretending there’s nothing between us. We’re way past the point of plausible deniability.
“I remember all of it.” I look into his eyes because I have nothing to hide. I have no shame after the way I threw myself at him. Well, maybe a little shame, but only for the way I acted. Not for what I said. “Every word. Everything I told you I wanted.”
His jaw clenches and I can see the flash of heat in his eyes before he responds.
“I remember it all too. And I meant everything I said. The question is, now that you’re sober, do you still want it?”
He’s giving me another last-minute off-ramp because that’s the kind of thoughtful guy he is, but I’ve already made my mind up and I don’t have to think before I answer this time.
I nod, but he shakes his head.
“Not good enough. I need to hear you say it.”
Holy hell. I’d be mortified if I wasn’t so turned on right now.
His face is still so close to mine that it’s starting to become overwhelming.
The scent of him, the heat in his eyes, and the low, possessive growl in his voice are combining to make me feel needy and desperate for the things that only he can give me.
“Say it, Heather. No wine, no distractions. Just you telling me what you want.”
“I want you.” It’s the easiest part to say, but I know he isn’t going to settle for just that. “I want you to touch me. I want your hands on me, and your mouth. Your fingers…”
I have to stop for a moment because my body is already fully on board with this plan, and I’m having no trouble at all imagining how good it will feel to have him touching me, teasing me, and finally giving me that big, thick cock that I’ve been literally dreaming about.
Still, he wants more.
“Keep going.” He reaches down to adjust himself, and I can clearly see the outline of his cock through his pants. “Tell me everything.”
“I want you inside me. I want you to make me feel everything I haven’t let myself feel in years. I want to know what it’s like to be with someone who actually wants me. Someone who sees me.”
“I do see you.” His voice is rough. “And I want you. Fuck, I want you.”
He groans, like he’s trying to hold himself back. He seems to be losing ground with the push-and-pull that’s clearly going on inside his head, though, because it only takes another moment before his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is hard and hungry, with so much pent-up need that it takes me by surprise at first. But when he cups my face with one hand and slides his tongue past mine, I finally feel like I can kiss him back just as desperately.
I move my hands to his shoulders and start to pull him closer, wanting him to keep kissing me as hard and deep as he can. Instead, he breaks away with a small shake of his head, drawing a frustrated whimper from me as he plants a line of softer kisses down my cheek and throat.
“Tell me to stop,” he growls against my skin. “Say the word and I will.”
“Don’t you dare.” I lean my head back against the pillow to give him easier access to my throat, my shoulders, and whatever else he needs. “Please don’t stop.”
He reaches behind me, lifting and cradling my body close for a moment while he eases my zipper down. I take the opportunity to bury my face against his neck and suck on that spot at the base of his throat where I can feel his pulse thrumming against my lips.
I’m rewarded with a low, hungry growl and the feel of his hard cock throbbing at my thigh.
“You feel what you do to me?” He exhales and grinds against me before easing me back down onto the mattress and slowly helping me out of the little black dress. “How hard I am for you?”
All I can do is nod and moan to keep encouraging him as he pulls the dress away from my body and tosses it over the side of the bed.
I don’t want to seem greedy or demanding, but the feel of his skin against mine is intoxicating in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
The closer we get to being naked, the more deliriously turned on I am.
He stops just long enough to rise up and let his eyes roam up and down my body, licking his lips like he’s half-starved when he gets to my black lace bra—and again when he makes it to my matching panties.
“God, I can’t believe this is real,” he rasps. “I’ve imagined it so many times.”
He unfastens my bra and I shudder a little as goosebumps rise up all over my body. It’s been so long since anyone has seen me like this, and even longer since anyone has looked at me the way he’s looking at me now.
“It’s real,” I say, battling a last-minute bout of nerves as he starts to slide my panties down from my hips. “We’re really doing this.”
He stops and looks at me with those intense blue eyes. “We can take this slower if you need to. I can wait.”
“No. I don’t want to wait.” I shake my head. “I want this. I want you. Please.”
“Thank fuck.” There’s a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he lowers his head to my breast, and that’s the last thing I notice because all the other coherent thoughts leave my mind when he closes his lips around my nipple and begins teasing it with his tongue.