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With a bass growl, he trailed his lips down my throat, nipping, licking, and sucking. He tongued my pulse as it thumped against the side of my neck.
“Grayson,” I gasped, flexing my hands in his tight grip. “Fallon’s...” I tried to warn him that his sister was just in the other room. “Here.”
As if a switch had been thrown, Grayson released me and stepped away. He stared at me with ravenous hunger, his gaze dropping to my mouth and then to my nipples.
“Is that Torin?” Fallon called from the other room—jolting us both out of our lust-induced haze.
Grayson straightened, any sign of his want for me disappearing in an instant. “Why the fuck would it be Torin?” he demanded as Fallon appeared in the kitchen.
I ran an unsteady hand over my mouth, wiping away any evidence of the kiss, and went back to the coffee maker. Like I hadn’t just been kissed to within an inch of my life. Jesus.
“Hello, brother,” Fallon said cheerfully. “And because he said he’d see me later.”
Grayson’s brows rose. “I don’t want that gobshite around you.”
“He’s not a gobshite,” she defended.
“He knows you’re off limits.”
She waved his concern off. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
His jaw jumped in irritation. “I have to take you home, and Sloane has to get ready for dinner.” He turned his blue eyes to me. “Finnan has asked that you wear a dress and…” he made little air quotes, “… make an effort with your appearance.”
“What an arse,” Fallon declared as she turned around to grab her bag from the kitchen counter. “I’ll see you later, Sloane.” Brushing past her brother, she opened the door of the apartment and walked out.
Grayson gave me one final hungry look before following her out and shutting the door behind him.
* * *
It had beenover an hour since Grayson had been here, yet his sandalwood and leather scent seemed to linger in the air. As I fussed with a curl in the bathroom mirror, I hated that I’d done as Finnan had bid, but I understood it. Being the boss of a clan meant absolute power—whether it be actual power or merely the illusion of it. Tonight was Finnan’s night. He was going to show me off like a prize. Tonight was also the night that Grayson and I had to sit there and pretend that he didn’t know how I sounded when I came.
Staring at myself in the mirror, I said, “You’re a bad-ass bitch, Sloane Kavanaugh. Finnan might be in control here, but you have the right to keep your backbone. You have the right to never back down and not take his shit.”
“Who are you talking to?” someone asked from the doorway.
I turned to find Grayson leaning one shoulder casually against the jamb. Dressed in a designer suit, his hair slicked back and a five o’clock shadow on his square jaw, I seriously considered whether he was real. I took my time staring at him. When my eyes finally returned to his face, I found he was taking his fill of me too.
“You wore the other dress I picked for you.”
I glanced down at the navy-blue cocktail dress, fingering the soft, frothy fabric of the skirt. “You picked this out?”
“I did.”
“What else did you pick out?”
“Everything.” The way he said the word made me shiver.Everything. So dominant. “I wanted easy access to you, which is why I picked short dresses.”
I blinked. “Access? Like you knew you’d get into my panties?”
“Yes.”
I let out a slow breath as my libido tried to boil over and looked back at my reflection. He stepped up behind me, ghosting his fingers over my shoulders. His blue eyes were serious. “I’m going to find it exceptionally difficult not to shoot every man who stares at you tonight.”
“Men won’t be staring at me tonight.”
He cocked a dark brow. “You obviously don’t see what I see then.”
“And what is it that you see?”
