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“That’s why we need totalk.”
Grant shook his head. “Done talking, baby.” He bent down and scooped my naked body into his arms. He marched into the bedroom and dropped me on the mattress, then he stood back. In all the months I’d known him, his frank appraisal of my splayed naked body never failed to make me wet. His gaze was devouring, carnal hunger. He climbed on the bed, nudged my knees apart and settled in between. Supported by his arms, his head came down and began to explore my lips again. The teasing articulation of his kiss was the complete opposite of the raw desire I saw in his eyes earlier. His mouth moved to my jaw, grazed me there and then proceeded on a downward quest. His tongue licked my nipple, swirling around leisurely as the muscles of his torso rocked against my damp cove that was only getting wetter by the second. I moaned and moved my head from side to side, my eyes catching his grip on the sheets. He was struggling forcontrol.
“Please,” I mewled as the fire in my lower pelvis grew hotter as he took his time worshiping each breast. Then he slid down my body, licked my navel before shifting lower to where I was craving hisattention.
“Yes,” I undulated my hips, anticipation fractured my breathing. “Yes.”
He pushed my legs apart, cocking them to either side, his hot tongue branded my center. My body jerked as he speared my entrance. “You’re wet for me, Angel,” he murmured, lapping my juices onto his tongue. “So goddamned sweet.” He ate at my sensitive flesh, licking and swiping, until I came on a rush of pulses and a breathlesscry.
I protested when Grant pulled back, but my eyes hooded with renewed excitement as he exposed his heavy arousal. His knee came down between my legs once more as he lowered himself above me. I expected a brutal thrust as he loved to take me hard but instead his engorged head circled at myentrance.
“Grant, I need you now,” Ipleaded.
“Never leave me again, Angel,” he commanded huskily. He eased inside me and I relished the feeling of fullness. He thrust in a steady pace, unhurried, and savoring. He tormented me, keeping the surge of my second orgasm at bay. I tilted my hips to coax him to speed up, but he weighed me down and compelled me to accept his rhythm. This continued for long minutes, his lips would take mine in an impassioned kiss, and then he would watch my face as if mesmerized by its shifting expressions. When I noticed his breathing turned erratic, his pace also quickened. He surged deep and that elusive high exploded into massive jolts of pleasure low in my belly. He continued pounding until I rode out my wave and then quick successive thrusts brought him his release. He poured inside me, a warm and intimate sensation. We’d gotten rid of condoms long ago when I took the birth control shot. I mentally calculated its efficacy and the anxiety disappeared as quickly as it hit me. I wasn’t due for anothermonth.
Grant fell to my side and dragged me against him. After two big orgasms and after the night I’d had, I didn’t even care about the sticky spot on the bed. I vaguely remembered getting shifted around, tucked close to a familiar scent and wall ofmuscle.
Islept.
13
Grant
Grant laid wide awake.His mind and body were weary, but a lingering unease kept the adrenaline steady in his veins—a fight or flight response that wouldn’t be quelled … a fear that if he slept, Blaire would disappear, her presence beside him all adream.
He touched his nose to her hair, inhaled the citrus-floral scent of her shampoo and drew her closer. She’d probably complain of all the sweat in between them or sleeping beside a furnace, but Grant didn’t care. It meant she was real. He preferred this negligible discomfort compared to the sharp stab in his chest of those times he woke up without her at his side. It had been a hellish fewdays.
He turned his head to the picture windows. Purple light was breaking through the slats of the blinds, the darkness receding, but he was impatient for the new day tostart.
There were things to get done, truths to be heard, and plans to be made. Grant was far from blasé about the whole Blaire affair and that was probably part of his anxiety. He was prepared to accept her past, but how it would affect the people around him like his father’s political allies would be a different question. The tabloids speculated whether the woman with Grant at his father’s first reelection event was the lady who had finally captured the heart of the senator’sson.
He decided to stop brooding and make an early day. He needed to make calls to his real estate investment firm. His buddy from Harvard, Rafael Lopez, headed Thorne Real Estate. They were in the process of acquiring prime commercial areas in several countries, but the ones in Brazil and Russia had been met by stiff competition. He trusted Rafe, but his friend didn’t represent the Thorne Industry umbrella, Grant did. The idea of whisking Blaire away from the dangers stalking her was enticing, but he had a responsibility to his company he couldn’tignore.
He eased away from his woman, careful not to wake her, although the sounds of her light snoring indicated she was in deep sleep. Poor thing. He still didn’t know whether he wanted to strangle her or kiss her senseless. That was how much she had him twistedup.
After showering, he skipped his facial hair grooming all together. He looked like shit and the bruising had darkened considerably. He’d be working from home for the next few days—that much had appeal. He put on drawstring sweatpants and an ancient Harvard tee. Padding across the black walnut flooring, he headed into the kitchen. If anything, he needed coffee. He pushed the button to make twelve cups and the grinding sound of the coffee station broke through the serenity of the morning. Grant walked over to the living room and tugged back the vertical window treatment—some fancy-fabric accordion-type shit his mother insisted hepurchase.
When Grant bought the brownstone, it was for investment. He liked the neighborhood, but the house needed a lot of work. Unlike its typical townhouse architecture, this one was a sprawling bungalow with a basement. One of his companies was a construction firm so it wasn’t hard to get renovation started. They tore up the flooring and put down premium hardwood. The plumbing and electrical work were upgraded. The walls were done in shades of brown or taupe, and the furniture was cream-white leather. The kitchen had coffee-colored granite with antique white cabinets and professional stainless-steel appliances. Blaire remarked that it screamed “bachelor pad” so he encouraged her to give it her feminine touch with an unlimited budget. She was an artist after all. His face turned sour. She hadn’t touched a damned thing, not even hung any of her paintings. Now he knew why. Blaire hadn’t counted on staying. It infuriatedhim.
The door to the garage opened and Tyler walked in. Above the attached garage were furnished living quarters where the security teamstayed.
“Coffee?” Grant offered when his man stepped into the kitchen. Tyler nodded and gave a deep breath. “Donovan called and said he made his flight this morning. He’ll be in bynine.”
“Any progress report from DC?” Grantasked.
“Yes, I talked with him earlier. He alluded to some information regarding Blaire’sbackground.”
“And?”
“I think they have a match and pieced together why and how she ended up inColorado.”
“That’s good … that’s good,” Grant murmured distractedly as he poured Tyler some coffee. Afterward, he filled his mug and took a sip. Grant grabbed his tablet from the counter to flip through the morning news, but felt eyes on him the wholetime.
“I’m okay, Tyler,” Grant grinned faintly and glanced up at hisbodyguard.
“Donovan is gonna have my ass,” the bodyguardgroaned.
“I hear you whine about it one more time, Tyler, it’ll be me handing you your ass. Cut itout.”
