Beyond What is Given(63)

He raised an eyebrow as his fingers toyed with the zipper under my arm. “Trust me.”

I’d never been self-conscious about my body before. Stop it. You rock your curves. Eyes locked on each other, I raised my arms above my head. Once he finished unzipping me, I nodded my assent, and he tugged the fabric gently over my head.

Was his breath shaky on that inhale? I opened my eyes and found his all over me. My skin tingled, heated wherever he paused in appreciation, his mouth dropping as his eyes locked onto my lace-cupped breasts, my stomach, then my red lace panties.

“Samantha. Damn. You’re perfect.” He reached for me, then paused. “If I start—if I touch you now…” He shook his head.

We were at his threshold, and he was giving me a choice. Like there is even one to make. I wanted him. I needed Grayson’s weight, those gloriously stacked muscles on me, his strong hands on my body. I needed him so deep that I would still taste him tomorrow—smell him on my skin. I was done waiting.

Reaching behind me, I unclasped my red lace bra and slid the straps down my arms one at a time. He never looked away, and I witnessed the moment desire for me overpowered his every other thought. I actually ached, more turned on by the possessive, predatory widening of his eyes than I ever had been with anyone else.

Once my bra met his discarded shirt, I leaned my breast into his outstretched hand. “Touch me. Don’t worry and don’t stop. I want this. I want you.”

He snapped.

One moment he was in front of me, and the next he was over me, pinning me to the bed as he kissed the breath out of me, one elbow bracing his weight and the other palming my breast. I gasped as he rolled and lightly pinched my nipple. A devious smile lit his face, and my heart stuttered. Holy shit. He was always hot, but smiling? Grayson was beautiful.

I cried out when his mouth latched to my nipple. His tongue swirled and danced, flicking in time as his fingers gave my other breast the same attention. My eyes fluttered shut, trying to absorb the sensations as shots of lightning ran straight through my veins.

He kissed my mouth, settling between my legs. His chest crushed my breasts, abraded the sensitized skin as his hand palmed my curves, resting on my ass. I looped my leg over his hips and rocked into him, using his erection to gain some much-needed friction against my clit.

“Off,” I mumbled, my foot running down his cargo shorts.

He stripped quickly to his boxer briefs, pulling a condom from his wallet and tossing it next to us on the bed. Even his thighs were hot, roped with heavy muscles. “Better?” he asked against my neck, kissing his way down between my breasts.

“Much.”

He grinned, and I had an all-new definition of who my Grayson was. This was him—needy, happy, hungry…mine.

He kissed every inch of my stomach, sucking lightly where my stomach dipped from my rib cage. He treated me like the most important test he could study for, returning to the places that made me gasp, cataloguing what I liked, what made me writhe.

Grayson teased his way down my legs, pausing behind my knees when I sucked in my breath, then pressed his thumbs into the arches of my feet. He was turning me into a puddle of pure hedonistic desire one kiss, one touch at a time, with the patience of someone who’d planned this for a while. My hips rolled as his breath skimmed the lace of my panties.

His grin was nowhere to be found when he locked his eyes on mine and waited for me to nod, then took my panties with him as his hands slid down my legs. He massaged his way back up my legs, keeping agonizing inches away from where I desperately needed him to touch me.

I was going to combust if he didn’t do something about it.

“Grayson, you’re killing me.” My body wouldn’t stay still, needing contact, friction.

“Good. I’ve been dying since the morning I saw your ass on my kitchen counter.” He squeezed the curves for punctuation, then rose to kiss me. I whimpered into his mouth, and he bit gently into my lower lip.

“Samantha.” My name on his lips felt almost as good as his fingers parting me, sliding through my folds until he brushed against my clit.

Amazing. I arched against him. “More. Please, Grayson. More.”

“Do you know how long I’ve planned this? How many nights I lay in bed across from your room and thought about how you’d feel under my hands? How many times you’d bend over and I’d want nothing more than to step behind and slide into you?” His fingers swept through me again, and he groaned as he circled my clit. “How wet you’d be.” His breathing accelerated and his jaw locked as he slid one finger inside me. My muscles clamped down, and I couldn’t control the moan that slipped free. Another finger joined, and he kissed me, his tongue thrusting at the same slow, deliberate speed his fingers were. “How tight you’d be,” he whispered against my lips.

Everything in me coiled, centering in my core, winding higher with every word he spoke, every press of his fingers. He used his thumb to apply pressure to my clit as his fingers worked within me. “God, Sam. I’ve dreamed of this, fantasized a million different ways. Holding you. Exploring you. Having sex with you. Making love to you.” He kissed me gently, and I melted a little more, despite the tension building to a breaking point within me. “Fucking you.”

Leave it to Grayson to make that word the sexiest thing I’d ever heard.

His fingers sped up, curled inward, and his kiss turned carnal. I rode his hand, arching into him through every stroke, my fingers biting into the skin of his back. My eyes shut, every sense too overwhelmed with pleasure to take the overload. “Grayson…” His name became my chant as the tension built to the breaking point.