Beyond What is Given(62)

I put my hands out to block him, but he simply reached under them and lifted me by my hips until I was eye level with him. He was strong enough to carry me with just his arms; I didn’t even need to brace my weight on his shoulders. So damn hot. “Grayson.”

“Shh. My turn.” He placed me on the captain’s chair, keeping our faces a breath apart. His hands were warm as they cupped my face. “You’re right, and I am all those things. Here, I’m what they need me to be. I’m my parents’ son, and my sisters’ brother. I serve as a link to Grace for her parents, and I take a little of their burden for caring for her. I’ll shoulder their blame, even as subconscious as it may be, because I deserve it.” His thumb pressed over my lips when I tried to speak. “No, it’s true. I’ll never forgive myself for letting Owen drive. For not taking his keys. That’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life, and Grace is a living reminder of it. When I’m here, I’m still her best friend. I still pray for a miracle, because if anyone deserves a happy, full life, it’s Grace.”

My stomach dropped. Believing he was always going to be hers and hearing it from his lips were two different things. His thumbs stroked my cheekbones, and I fought against leaning into him, for taking any moment he was willing to give, even if I was selfishly stealing it from her.

“But, Samantha, it doesn’t matter if I’m at our house at Rucker, or walking the beach here. I’m still yours. Sitting next to Grace? Yours. Studying for my next flight? Yours. Arguing with my sisters, my parents, the Bowdens…I’m still yours. I might not say it, but if I happened to you, well, you sure-as-hell more than happened to me. You challenge me, transform me every day. It doesn’t matter what everyone sees, or what role I have to play, you’re under my skin, and when I come here, you’re along for the ride. This is not a temporary thing between us. There is no deadline. I. Am. Always. Yours.”

He kissed me softly, his tongue tracing my lower lip. “So go ahead and fall. I’ve gotten really good at catching you.”

My fingers dug into the back of his shirt at the same moment my lips molded to his. Hands on my hips, he pulled me flush against him, and that fire we’d kept carefully banked raged to life. God, I was ready to burn.

I deepened the kiss, stroking my tongue against his, and he took control, tilting my head to get a better angle. His hands shifted lower, cupping my ass, and he lifted me off the chair. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, locking my ankles behind his back.

My fingers ran through his hair. Lips caressing, teeth nipping, tongues stroking, soothing—our kiss consumed each of my senses. He slipped one of his hands under my dress, and then the other, until he held me by bare skin. He lightly squeezed the backs of my thighs, his fingers achingly close to the small strip of lace that separated them. “I love your skin,” he whispered against my mouth. Then he kissed down my throat, sucking the tender patch of skin that met my collarbone.

“And the way you smell…” He ran his nose along the line of my neck. “I could live here, Sam.”

I tugged his hair, bringing his mouth back to mine, and sucked his tongue into my mouth where it belonged. He groaned, tightening his grip on my thighs, and then we were moving. He tore his mouth away from mine long enough to press my head to his shoulder as he carried me down the stairs to the cabin of the boat.

As soon as we cleared the ceiling, his mouth was mine, our kisses taking a harder, more desperate edge. I tugged at his shirt, but it caught on my legs. “Impatient?” he asked against my mouth.

“Get it off. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” My mouth watered at the idea of tracing every line of his phenomenal body with my tongue.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

He carried me with one hand and opened a door behind me with the other. One more step and he lowered me to a bed, complete with the softest sheets I’d ever felt. “The bed is made?” I asked as he stepped back.

“Photo shoot this morning for the brochure. Would you like a tour?” he motioned to his back.

“Of you? Yes, please.” I sat up on my knees at the edge of the bed. “Now.”

He reached behind and pulled his shirt over his head. I took it off his arms and tossed it, too intent on what was in front of me to see where it landed.

Every muscle in my core clenched. Grayson was made for sex, ripped, his muscles not just defined but built, thick and strong. His skin was a beautiful bronze and incredibly soft to my touch. My fingers worshiped the lines of his eight-pack abs. “You’re… God, I don’t even have words for what you are.” My breath became choppy as I trailed over his pecs, and he sucked in his breath when my thumbs grazed his nipples. I leaned forward and ran my tongue over one, and he hissed, his hands weaving through my hair to hold me as I gently scraped my teeth over him, then kissed the flat disc.

Sitting back on my heels, my eyes devoured every incredible inch of him. His stomach tensed under my hands, and I looked up to be held captive by the most intense, hungry stare I’d ever been given. “What are you thinking?”

“That every single weight I’ve ever lifted, or mile I’ve run has been worth it for you to look at me like that.” He caressed my cheek, then slid his hand down to the straps of my dress.

I crossed my arms in front of my stomach, a chill overpowering the heat in his gaze. “Grayson…I’m not…” I motioned to his torso.