Chapter 7 #3
He paused, then leaned down slowly, angling his head as if to kiss her, but not closing the distance. Instead, he dipped his mouth close to hers and pulled away, teasing her with an almost kiss.
Her breath hitched as he coaxed her mouth open without even touching her lips. His fingers pinched her nipple and her spine arched. Licking swiftly across her open mouth, he got her to stretch toward him.
The side of his mouth curved with cocky satisfaction. He was a puppet master pulling her strings.
“Tease.”
“Stay still.”
At first, she tensed, unsure why he’d give such a command, then she realized he wanted control. He withdrew his hands, and she tried not to show disappointment. Patience was the key with Greyson, and she’d waited an eternity for him to touch her like this.
He looked down at her body, his large fingers framing her ribs and then dragging slowly to her hips, where he squeezed and pulled her more firmly onto his thigh. She moaned softly at the pressure of him, hard and hungry. Proof he was not unaffected by her.
He was starting to realize she wouldn’t stop him. He could do whatever he wanted and she would let him. She knew this infuriated him, but she didn’t care. His control was equally maddening, and she wanted to see him snap.
Her hands gripped the edge of the table, pushing her breast out in invitation. His gaze roamed over her like a hungry caress. He teased the hem of her shirt, longing in his touch as much as it rested in his eyes.
“Tell me to stop, Wren.”
She shook her head. She wouldn’t. She wanted this too much.
His eyes met hers in silent warning.
“Do it,” she whispered, and he shoved the shirt up, exposing her breasts, and pulled down her bra as far as it could go without coming off. Exposed and constricted, she gasped.
He cursed under his breath. “Tell me to take my hands off you.”
She met his stare, making it perfectly clear that she had no intention of stopping him. “Or... you could kiss me.” She slowly trailed her fingers between her breasts. “Here.”
He grabbed the back of her neck and jerked her close, sealing his mouth to hers. Demanding and deep, he took possession of not just her mouth but her entire being as he yanked her down on his thigh so her body throbbed against his muscular leg. Her fingers curled into his bare, broad shoulders.
“This is the last time this happens, you hear?”
She caught his face and pulled his mouth back to hers. “You don’t make the rules.”
He broke the kiss, hauling her onto the table. “I mean it, Wren. This goes no further than this.”
“Since when are you such a prude?”
He snatched her arms, pinned them on the table above her head, locked tightly in his one-handed grip. “I mean it. No more poking. No more teasing. And no more coming over here all done up.”
She laughed. “All done up? Grey, this is what I put on in the morning. There’s nothing special about what I’m wearing.”
He growled. “You look... hotter.”
Something inside of her clenched. The furthest Grey had ever gone with his compliments was to tell her she looked nice. He thought she looked hot? No, not hot—hotter.
Something was definitely going on between them, and she didn’t think it had to do with wills or weddings.
“You make me feel hot.” The confession cast a moment of intense silence.
Everything stilled.
She swallowed, breathing in his familiar scent, a mixture of cedar, the outdoors, and pure masculinity. This close, she could see the tiny scars that nicked his skin from labor and woodworking over the years.
His hand tightened around her wrists. “Grey, if it’s just tonight, make it count.”
“What are you doing to me?” His fingers traced slowly down her throat, as if he were testing his limits and hers. She didn’t move her hands from where he’d pressed them into the table.
Lifting her chin, she gave him full access to anywhere on her body he wanted to touch. The drag of those slightly calloused, work-roughened hands sent a shiver through her as they grazed slowly beyond her collarbone to hold her breasts possessively.
Her gaze softened to a half-lidded stare as she let the sense of his touch wash over her.
Greyson never spoke unless he had something meaningful to say. But when he looked at her like he was looking at her now, a thousand unspoken words were exchanged between them.
Need. Want. Lust. Hunger. Obsession. Denial. Anguish.
Fantasies from the last fifteen years flooded her mind as she waited for him to lose control and finally take what he wanted.
His fingers, reverent and gentle, whispered desires over her skin as his eyes spoke of longing. The intensity of his stare set a claim, and the energy radiating from his body left no argument about what he considered his territory.
But when he spoke, he said the opposite. “This is wrong, Wren.”
“It’s not.”
“It is. We have too much history. I don’t see you…like this.”
He was a flesh-and-blood contradiction, but, in the end, actions always mattered more than words. When his warm palm, again, cupped her breast possessively, she arched into his touch, and his gaze filled with panic.
The moment held, like a silent negotiation that hit like a reprimand. “You can’t expect me not to respond when you touch me, Grey. It feels too good.”
His nostrils flared as the internal debate ticked across his stern face. His hand shifted, and she caught his wrist, stilling him before he could pull away.
“Please.”
He studied her through a veil of doubt and confusion. They’d never done anything like this before—not until recently in the shed—but she’d be lying to say she hadn’t imagined it a thousand times. However, nothing compared to the reality of his hands on her.
She pressed her body into his touch, so there was no misunderstanding. “Please, Greyson.”
His silence was torture.
Again, he captured her hand, returning it to the table, above her head, with an unmistakable press that warned her to keep it there. She feared he’d fix her shirt and end whatever this was.
Instead, he trailed his fingers down her front, between her breasts. She closed her eyes, lost in the teasing sensations, achingly turned on by every torturous caress. When his tongue traced the tip of her nipple, she gasped.
His grip closed around her hips, wedging her against him with a deliberate tug. Only, this time, it wasn’t his thigh he pressed against her.
The firm friction was so precisely placed. Heat rushed past every nerve ending along her spine, tickling the hairs at the nape of her neck. Pressure built at her core as dark wanting flooded her insides.
His mouth closed over her nipple and more pressure built as he sucked and teased. Her body rocked against his, riding out the friction he created with slow, grinding thrusts of his hips.
His hands were quick and accurate, flicking open the button of her jeans and sliding his hand over the lace of her panties. She was soaked and had no doubt he felt her arousal through the damp silk.
His fingers rubbed over her and she moaned at the exquisite contact. His body rocked the table beneath them as he ground into her, his palm pressing against her throbbing clit, edging her toward a point of no return.
He pinched one nipple while his mouth suckled at the other. She’d never experienced something so comprehensive. Pleasure overwhelmed her. She became a raw nerve of sensation and then...
Her back bowed, and the sound that escaped her was nothing like the sounds she made in private. He didn’t let up. Hand stuffed in the front of her jeans, he rubbed and sucked and worked her higher and higher until reality blurred into a haze of pleasure and sin.
“That’s it, baby” he rasped against her flesh. “Come all over your pretty panties.”
Her lips parted in shock. His words, his touch, it was so much more than she expected from him. An exquisite gift that left her trembling in shock as the pleasure rolled through her.
She shivered as he slowly withdrew his fingers. Panting in awe, she waited for the world to return to its axis, and looked up at him. He leaned down to kiss her, but the moment she moved to meet him, he drew back, teasing her again.
Was that the deal? He didn’t trust his control and needed her to remain still? She rested her head back on the table, surrendering to his command. Slowly, he traced his soft lips over hers, rewarding her with a gentle kiss.
“So pretty,” he whispered over her mouth. “So pure.” He dragged his lips over her cheekbone until he was nibbling her ear. “Did you like coming on my fingers, Wren?”
She whimpered, arousal soaking her once more as she discovered this new side of Greyson. Rather than answer, she kissed him in a way that left no room for mistaking her satisfaction.
He cupped the back of her neck and lifted her in one fluid shift.
She turned her face into the shelter of his shoulder.
Her legs wrapped around his waist as he rubbed those calloused fingers down her spine.
No one had held her like this since she was a child.
It seemed strange to feed such a juvenile part of her moments after he’d treated her like a flesh-and-blood woman, but somehow the way he pleasured her and then protected her went hand in hand. It felt—
Enya cut off. The sweet moment interrupted by the obnoxious ring from her phone on the counter.
“Ignore it.” He seemed reluctant to put her down, but her father was usually the only one who called her cell and only when he needed something that couldn’t wait.
“I can’t.” She didn’t want him to let go, but there could be an issue at The Haven or something might be wrong with Bodhi.
She wanted to stay in this moment as long as possible, fearful that life would permanently throw them back into a reality of denial and longing.
What would happen next? Was this the end or were they just getting started? “Let me just see what he wants.” Then maybe they could come back to this and take it into his bedroom.
The ringing stopped and then the phone instantly rang again. They both sighed, knowing that if someone was calling twice, something was probably wrong.
“I’m sorry,” she said, sliding her legs down his body to put her feet back on the floor.
Heat rushed to her head the moment he let go. She blushed as she adjusted her bra and shirt. Disoriented and unsteady, she rushed to the kitchen and grabbed the phone, caught off guard when Soren’s name flashed on the screen, and a hundred realizations hit at once.
“Shit.” She pulled the phone to her ear and answered. “Hey.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m, uh, right around the corner.”
“Did I get the time wrong? Tonight’s our date, right?”
“Yes. I mean, no, you didn’t get it wrong. Sorry. I just got tied up with...” She looked at Greyson, who watched her with an unreadable expression.
He knew her too well and instantly realized she wasn’t speaking to Bodhi.
Regret flooded her as she met his stare. “I can be there in ten minutes.”
“Okay. I’ll wait for you.”
“See you soon.” She ended the call and looked at Greyson apologetically. “I’m really sorry.”
“You have to go.” His disappointment quadrupled her own.
“I wish I could stay.”
“Who was that?”
This mess was her own doing. She didn’t want him to change his mind or regret anything they’d done, nor did she think bringing his brothers into the conversation would help matters. “A guest.”
“Don’t lie to me, Wren.”
Her eyes pleaded for understanding, but too much reality was returning. “It was Soren. I told him I’d hang out with him tonight.”
If he had an internal reaction, she couldn’t tell. His expression was unreadable and his tone indifferent. “You better get going then.”
“Grey—”
He turned away and walked down the hall to his room. Very aware of the time, she looked at the cat box and the front door. Soren was waiting. She went after Grey anyway, unable to leave things on a bad note.
He slipped on a sweater. His sandy blond hair stood on end.
“We’re just hanging out, Greyson.”
“Let’s not have lies between us, Wren. I was there when you called him to arrange a date.”
That was true, but that was before she and Greyson kissed. “I can cancel—”
“Don’t.”
Taken aback that he’d tell her not to cancel a date with his brother after what they just did, she blinked at him in confusion. He said no lies, but he seemed to be avoiding the truth.
“But... what about everything that just happened?”
“I told you that was the last time. We both know anything between us is wrong and it won’t work out.”
She didn’t know that, and neither did he, but she was too hurt by his indifference to say that to him.
Then he looked back at her, as if surprised she was still standing there. “You’re gonna be late.”
She closed her mouth to stop her chin from trembling. It was stunning how much his apathy hurt. She blinked away the sting and swallowed, not even knowing how to respond to such a comment.
He brushed past her and left the room. She needed a few seconds to find her bearings before she could follow. When she returned to the kitchen, she picked up the canister of kitten formula with shaky hands.
“He’ll need a bottle of formula four times a day.” She rattled off directions as a weak defense mechanism so she didn’t humiliate herself even more. “Once we see how he adjusts, we can wean him off slowly and introduce solid foods.”
“What?” He turned and frowned. “I’m not keeping the cat.”
“He’s too small to live outside on his own with the others. This is only for a couple of weeks.”
“Wren, I don’t have space in my life for a kitten.”
“Finders keepers, Greyson.”
Maybe she wanted to punish him. Why should he get away from every situation without taking responsibility? He was going to take accountability for something, at least for a little while.
“I can take him to the sanctuary once he’s a little bigger, but it’s too cold to put him out there now.
He doesn’t have a mother to feed him, so it looks like the universe picked you.
Congratulations. It’s a boy.” She pressed the canister of dry formula into his chest and let go so he had no choice but to catch it. “Directions are on the back.”
She was losing her battle with her emotions and needed to get out of there. Gathering the basket of supplies, she bundled up without meeting his eyes.
“Wren—”
“I have to go, Greyson. I’ll check in tomorrow to see how Tinsel’s doing.”
It would be awkward to see him, but she had a responsibility to the cat. When she reached the door, she looked back, giving him one last chance to apologize for being so dismissive.
He said nothing, so she swallowed down her hurt and accepted that he’d rejected her yet again. Somehow, this time hurt more than all the times that came before.