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His breath hitches, and he cants his hips. His cock, now hard and seeking, presses against my side. “That sounds more like your fantasy than mine, Mac.” A small smile pulls at his mouth as he rests his head on his hand and leans in. “I feel so cheap and used.”
“Mmm...poor baby.” Softly I press a kiss to the crook of his neck where his pulse beats. I love the way his body reacts with a shiver of pleasure and the feel of his big hand smoothing along my hip, as though touching me gives him pleasure as well.
Everything is warm and lazy, and that low, sweet ache for him builds. I let it grow slowly, just touching him for now, enjoying the anticipation of having him again.
My voice is husky when I whisper, “Don’t worry, Cupcake, I’d be there to hold your hand.”
Gray’s chuckle is a rumble in his broad chest. His hand slips back up my hip and around to my butt. He rests it there as his head lowers so that we’re nose to nose. “Nice try, Mac. But no chance. I don’t want to share you.”
“Even if it’s with another girl?” I tease.
His nostrils flare on an indrawn breath, his gorgeous lips curving upward just a bit. “That image has definite possibilities. But, no, I don’t want another girl in our bed either.”
I love that he says our bed and that his fingers twine with mine. His other hand slowly slides down my ass to my thigh, lifting it with languid slowness and resting it on his hip. Spreading me. The tips of his fingers skim along the opening of my sex, such a light, fleeting touch that I might have imagined it. I clench in response.
Slightly distracted, my voice goes breathy. “So having a bunch of girls in your bed at once isn’t your secret fantasy?”
His smile remains but his eyes dim with wariness.
“Right,” I say with false levity. “You’ve already done that.” Of course he has. He’s told me how wild a sex life he’s had.
I want to turn away, close my eyes and not think about Gray and all the women he’s been with.
But he knows me too well. He cups my face with gentle care. “Hey. I don’t like that expression. Makes me worry that you’re thinking the wrong things.”
I try to smile but fail. “It’s ridiculous. I shouldn’t be jealous—”
“No, you shouldn’t,” he agrees softly, his thumb caressing my cheek.
“I can’t help it. I think of all the things you’ve done and...” I bite my lip to stem the flow of anxiety leaving my mouth. But I’ve gone this far. Hot-faced, I tell him the rest. “What if being just with me gets boring to you?”
“Boring?” Gray rasps. I hazard a glance and find him staring at me, his eyes wide and shocked. “You think I’d rather have a bed full of chicks?”
God. I sound so insecure when he voices my fears. “I don’t want to think that way,” I murmur.
He rests his forehead against mine, his breath a warm caress against my lips. “Ah, Mac. You have it so wrong.”
I resist the urge to squirm. Almost absently, his hand drifts over my sex again. Nothing more, not seeking, but as if he can’t help exploring. But his focus is on my face. “You want to know what it was like?” he asks. “All those things that I did?”
“Not really,” I mumble.
“Well, I’m telling you. I promised never to lie to you, so you know what I say is true.” His expression turns earnest. “It was a novelty act. Half the time I was outside of myself, snickering at the fact that I was doing those things. The other half was awkward, elbows going where they shouldn’t, impersonal desperation, weird shit like girls obviously faking that they’re into each other because they think that’s what I wanted to see.”
He clears his throat. “Yeah. Not hot. Not like it is with you.”
“Gray...”
“No, Ivy. Don’t blow this off. You gotta know, I get hotter from just kissing you than any sex I’ve had before.”
As if to prove this, his lips find mine. His kiss is a slow, seeking exploration that has my insides melting and his breath quickening.
Our lips meld and part, and he gives my lower lip a sexy little lick. “So hot. So perfect.”
In one smooth roll, he moves over me, his arms bracketing my shoulders, and then he’s entering me, all hard, heavy cock and steady intent. The action is so unexpected, so good, that I gasp, my legs spreading wider to take more of him.
“Yeah,” he says. “Like that.”
He grunts when he pushes, as if he has to work hard at fitting his thick cock in. My body tightens at that delicious feeling of him stretching me, filling me. Going just a bit deeper each time.
