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We’re alone as the elevator doors slide closed, and it feels like the heat amps up a few degrees between us as he pulls on my hand, which he’s still holding, and I fall into his chest.
He bends down as his hand comes up to palm my neck like he did in the back of the car, and his lips drop down to mine. I sink into him as I open my mouth to his again, and he backs us up until I’m pressed between his body and the elevator wall.
There’s something beautiful about being kissed by Grayson, and it feels as if I’ll never get enough of it. I link my arms around his torso as we make out on this elevator. His one palm still cups my neck, and the other slides down until his fingertips find my hip.
The elevator slides to a halt with a ding to let us know we have arrived on our floor, and we reluctantly break away. He moves his arm around my shoulders, and I reach up to grab onto the hand around my shoulder as I look up at him. A tiny smile plays at his lips as he looks down at me, and I smile back at him.
We walk together like that off the elevator and down the hall toward his room, and he slides his phone out of his pocket to unlock his door. He opens the door, and I gasp as I look into the suite.
It’s a corner suite, and it’s…simply breathtaking. It has wraparound views of the Vegas Strip on one side and the skyline with mountain views out the other window. I’m in awe as I look around the place.
I guess this is what a big-money pro football contract gets you. It’s most definitely not what a pastry chef at a bakery off-Strip gets you.
A large sectional sofa looks out over the view, and a door leads into another room—presumably the bedroom.
A bar is set up along an interior wall with six stools, and an open bag of Tootsie Rolls sits on the surface beside a bottle of Hendricks. I’m not sure what one man needs all this space for, but I’m really happy he decided to bring me up here.
I head over toward the window and touch the glass, looking out over the view. It’s just after nine, and the lights of the Strip twinkle across the highway. “Wow,” I breathe. I slip my phone out of my pocket to take a picture if only because I feel like I may never see this view again. I never want to forget the wonder and the pure magic I feel right now.
He chuckles as he watches me in the reflection of the glass, and then he nods toward the bar. “Would you like a drink?”
I turn around to face him, and despite the size of the room, all I can see is him. He’s a force, that’s for sure.
I shake my head. I don’t want another drink. I’m just tipsy enough to think this is still a good idea—just tipsy enough to mask my inhibitions. Just tipsy enough to give myself over to the boy I’ve had a crush on since I was a kid.
I take a few steps away from the window and back toward him. “I only want one thing right now.”
We’re mere feet away from each other, and he closes the gap, wrapping an arm around my waist and hauling me to him. “And what might that be?”
“You.”
His lips crash down to mine, and this kiss is more aggressive than the previous two. It’s faster and more urgent as his mouth opens and his tongue assaults mine in the most heavenly way.
His hand slides from my waist down to my hip and then up my torso, stopping short of my breast. My body seems to automatically move into him, urging his hand up, and he does it. I moan, spurring him on. He moves both hands under my thighs and lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist as I move my arms around his neck. He carries us over to the couch, and I unhook my legs from around him as he sits. I rest one leg on either side of him.
He thrusts his hips up toward me, and it’s clear he’s ready for this. He’s hard, and I’m wet, and it’s time.
I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment—not just with Grayson, but with any man. We make out for a bit on the couch, his hands roaming up my back and into my hair as I do the same with him, and then he pulls back.
His eyes are hooded as they land on mine. His lips are swollen from our kiss, and he looks so freaking sexy in this moment that I nearly have a tiny orgasm just looking at him.
He shifts me so I’m lying on my back, and he’s so smooth, moving the two of us so easily as he hovers over me, his mouth moving back to mine and his body slamming against me like he’s having sex with me only with our clothes on. I wrap my legs around his waist as he drives against me again and again, a desperate plea escaping my lips in the form of a moan.
He lifts off me and reaches his hand between us, cupping my pussy over my jeans. I take the opportunity to slide my hand over his jeans, too, to feel his steel cock through the fabric.
I let out a little moan at the feel of him just as he lifts his hand and slides it down into my jeans. He stays on the outside of my panties, teasing me as my chest lights up with thrills and a rough, needy ache pulses between my legs.
I reach up under his shirt and feel the warm, smooth skin of his back before I allow my hands to trail back around to his stomach. I feel the outline of muscles there even from this angle, and I want to see it all.
I push him back, and he settles onto his knees as I reach for the bottom of his shirt. He’s too tall from the angle where I find myself, so he helps, ripping his shirt off over his head, and…
Whoa.
Holy shit.
He’s stacked.
He’s a pro athlete, and my eyes fall to the muscles in his abdomen. One, two, three…ten. At least ten. I’ve never seen a ten-pack before. I’m not even sure I’ve ever seen a six-pack in person before.
