Wild for You (Hot Jocks #6)(27)

After a prolonged moment of silence, Grant’s lips part. “Are you sure you’re okay?” His voice is strained, like he’s on edge about something.

I hope it’s not me.

“I don’t know,” I say, my emotions floundering somewhere between fear and fascination. For as loudly as the rain beats against the window, the beating of my heart thrums even louder in my ears. “My mom died the night of a storm. They’ve bothered me ever since.”

Bothered me are the words I use, but according to the therapist I saw for years afterward, it’s actually anxiety. There are pills that could help me, but I never bothered taking them. They made me feel fidgety and weird.

“How can I help?”

Grant turns his face just enough so that his eyes can meet mine. I’m a buttery puddle in the warmth of his gaze.

“Hold me?” I rasp out the words without thinking.

The storm outside is like a faint memory. Now, the only sound I can hear is my blood pumping through my veins. What am I doing? Yes, having his arms around me will help, but I have no right to ask that of him.

“How?” he asks, unsure of what I want.

“Like this,” I murmur, my hair dragging over the pillow as I lean into him, nestling my cheek against his broad chest.

The relief that sweeps over me is instantaneous, and I can’t help but run my hand up his abdomen, resting it in the crevice between his firm pectoral muscles, my fingers playing with the buttons of his still-damp shirt. I sigh. He just feels so good.

For all of my nuzzling, Grant is incredibly still. I can’t tell if he’s even breathing. Maybe he’s waiting for instructions? Permission?

“Put your arm around me,” I whisper, my eyelids drooping.

He does, slowly, and before long, I’m locked in his firm but gentle embrace.

Oh my God. I don’t realize I’m crying until a tear drips down my nose and onto the collar of his shirt.

“It’s okay to be scared,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against my hair.

Grant’s voice rasps pleasantly in my ear, and I nestle myself deeper into his arms with another shaky sigh. The simple, heartfelt act and his kind words comfort me more than I thought they would.

“You’re safe. Breathe, sweetheart. You’re safe with me. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

I do, drawing in a long breath and releasing it just as slowly.

“That’s it. Do it again for me.”

I inhale again, breathing deeply so I can feel my rib cage expand, the fullness of my breasts brushing against his firm chest.

“If you need to talk,” he says, his voice deep, “I’m here. I’m not good at that kind of thing, but I can listen.”

“It’s okay.” I breathe out slowly. “I’m okay. Just hold me a minute longer?”

“Anything.”

We stay like that for several minutes. The temperature in the room seems to rise until it’s humid between us, the air thick with tension. And temptation. And something else I can’t quite put my finger on.

My next words pour out of me like rain from a gutter. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

When Grant doesn’t respond, my fingers slide up his chest to his throat, and along the defined line of his stubbled jaw. With a shaking hand, I draw his face toward mine, our eyes meeting in the darkness of the room.

“Did you hear me?” I ask, my gaze flicking between his eyes and lips.

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, leaving a hypnotizing gleam. “Yeah.” He breathes out, saying softly, “It’s no pr—”

I bring my mouth to his in a breathless kiss, humility be damned.

Grant grunts low, his hand shooting up to catch my jaw with calloused fingers. His lips are sinfully soft against mine, and they move slowly, not asking for too much too soon. I press into him, my fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck with a desperation brewing in my belly that I haven’t felt since . . . maybe ever.

I pull back, pressing my thumb to his lower lip. “Is this okay?” I whisper, praying that he says, Yes, this is more than okay.

Grant doesn’t speak, his breathing ragged and slow. I rub my thumb across his full lower lip. He draws my thumb into his mouth, catching my fingertip on his teeth. I hold my breath as Grant slides his fingers into the curtain of hair draped over my collarbone, pulling it over my shoulder to reveal the length of my neck.

He moves deliberately and leans down to press his lips to mine in a slow kiss, his palm resting firmly on the junction of my neck and shoulder.

I sigh into his kiss, opening my lips to his seeking tongue. A whimper escapes my throat when he brushes the outline of my ear with his fingers, and a current of electricity runs from the top of my head down to my toes.

Acting on instinct, I pull him on top of me, relishing the way his broad body covers mine. He’s careful not to crush me, but I don’t want careful. I lift my hips off the mattress to grind into his, his belt buckle brushing deliciously against my most tender spot. Grant releases a groan, dropping his lips to my neck. I allow my eyes to flutter closed, drunk on his hot breath against my sensitive skin.

“Please,” I whisper, when Grant’s lips pause against my skin in a moment’s doubt.

Please don’t stop now.