Wild for You (Hot Jocks #6)(28)

10




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Hot and Heavy





Grant



This is not what I expected when I arrived home tonight.

First, finding Ana in my bed . . . then lying with her, holding her, comforting her. It should feel foreign, strange—wrong. But it doesn’t. It feels amazing. She fits against me perfectly, molding her slender body to mine, nestling herself in against my chest, like I alone have the power to ease her discomfort.

My intentions were innocent—at first.

When I saw her reaction to the storm, I only wanted to provide comfort. Although it’s out of the ordinary for me to play that role for someone, somehow it miraculously worked. Ana relaxed against me, her breathing evening out. But then she turned her face to mine and offered up those lips, and all my self-control unraveled.

Because kissing her . . .

God, it’s the perfect kiss. Wet and hot and searing.

It’s been so long since I’ve held a woman in my arms, had a woman in my bed . . . So, yeah, my body reacts, immediately hardening, even though I will it not to.

And then when Ana pulls me on top of her, all my reservations vanish like a bolt of lightning in the night sky.

I hover over her, my body caging hers beneath mine with my forearms balanced on the bed near her head. She’s so small, so fragile, and it takes some effort to keep the bulk of my weight from crushing her.

She makes a low noise of contentment, and my heart shudders. Knowing that she trusts me to care for her, that it’s my chest she’s buried herself into, that it’s me she wants comfort from? My chest gets so tight I can hardly breathe, and I press a soft kiss to her temple.

Settling myself over top of her, I tilt her chin to mine and deepen our kiss. Ana’s hips lift, seeking friction against mine. A gasp escapes her perfect mouth as my lips travel to her throat. She smells so good, and tastes even better.

Her hands ball into fists against my shirt, her pulse thrumming fast. She nuzzles right into the hollow of my throat, her smooth cheek brushing over my stubbled one.

She shifts, moving against me, and I swallow a groan when her fingers graze the growing bulge behind my zipper.

“Ana . . .” I rumble out the warning, barely breathing. She has to know she’s turning me on. Has to know this is too far. I have a gorgeous woman in my bed—something that hasn’t happened in a very long time. My self-control is far less reliable than I’d like right now.

I need to tell her to stop, need to put some distance between us. Of course, I do none of those things.

“Grant,” she murmurs, her lips touching my skin.

Fractures of heat flash through me and my cock stands at full salute. I groan as her pelvis rubs enticingly against mine.

“Tell me,” I say, leaning closer to brush my lips across her neck.

“I need you,” she whispers, trembling in my arms, but for an entirely different reason than before. Delicate hands push against my clothes, trying to work them open.

Her eyelids flutter closed as my brain screams at me to end this. But I won’t. I can’t. I’m too far gone to care that this is wrong. I’m powered now on blinding need and the thrill of discovering every inch of this beautiful girl.

Our mouths meet in a kiss that’s so hot and urgent, I groan out of relief. Ana’s tongue seeks entrance, and I devour her mouth with deep, drugging kisses that make me feel drunk.

“Tell me if you want to stop. We don’t have to do anything that . . .”

The words die in my throat and a deep rumble takes its place because Ana is undeterred, her hand pushing inside my dress pants. I forget how to breathe when it slips under the elastic of my boxer briefs. I’m hard as a fucking rock, and there’s not a thing I can do about that.

“Wait, sweetheart, wait . . .” Fuck.

Her touch is electric, and I shiver at the contact. It’s been a really long time since someone other than me has touched my dick.

“Do you not want to?” she asks on a strained exhale.

She’s lovely. And beautiful. Of course I want to.

“Are you kidding? Do whatever you want to me.”

“Oh God . . .” She moans as her fingers curl around my shaft.

My chest shudders at the contact of her delicate palm stroking me, and again at the sound of the whispered curse tumbling from her perfect mouth.

“Grant, you’re so big,” she murmurs, her breath coming out in quick puffs against my throat. “Please. I need this. I need you.”

Throwing common sense out the fucking window, I move, changing our positions so I’m lying beside her. I need to see her eyes. Need to know what she’s thinking. Need to be sure this is okay.

“You sure this is what you want?” My words are little more than a harsh pant.

Her mouth is nuzzling the stubble on my jaw in the most distracting way ever. “So much.”

Jesus. How can I be expected to think with anything but the head below my belt?

I want her. From the first moment I laid eyes on Ana a year ago at a Hawks game, I’ve wanted her. As wrong as that was, especially because she was in the WAGs box at the time. She was taken. By one of my own damn teammates. And still, I wanted her.

Does that make me a douche? Maybe, but I never acted on it. Never showed even a flicker of interest toward her. Not when I first shook her hand, not when I made small talk with her at a charity event several months later, not when I drove her home for the first time after Jason had a meltdown at our friends’ going-away party, and not even when I gave her a ride home from the start-of-the-season banquet. My one faux pas? Giving her my phone number. But even that was innocent. I had the strange suspicion that there might come a day when Ana needed a hand.