Page 11 of Gray’s Surrender

Meg takes one slow breath.

“That’s the first honest thing you’ve said since I arrived.”

“Doesn’t change the risk, though, does it?”

“No.” She comes closer. “It means you stop handling it alone.”

“You can’t promise this works.”

“Neither can you.”

She stops in front of me and puts her hand over my heart.

“I want you, Gray. Not your house. Not a position in your family. You.”

My restraint gives one last warning.

“You should leave.”

Meg grips my shirt and backs me into the workbench.

“Make me.”

I catch her hips. “I’m not playing with you, Meg.”

“Good.”

She kisses me first.

The first contact wipes the garage clean of everything but her mouth and my hands. Meg presses close, one thigh between mine, her fingers opening the top button of my jeans before I can think about stopping her. I take her wrists and turn us. Her back meets the edge of the workbench. I lift her onto it and kiss her harder, forcing her knees apart with my hips. The thin dress rides up over her thighs. Meg hooks one leg around me and pulls.

My cock presses against the heat between her legs. She gasps into my mouth and works the remaining buttons of my jeans.

“Still want me to leave?” she asks.

“No.”

“Then stop trying to be noble.”

“Never claimed noble.”

I slide my hand beneath her dress and find damp lace. Her breath breaks, but there’s nothing hesitant in the way she spreads wider. I drag one finger over the soaked center of her panties, slow enough to watch impatience sharpen in her face.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Your hands on me without another excuse between us.”

I pull the lace aside and touch her. Meg arches. Her nails catch my shoulders as I circle her clit with my thumb, then push two fingers deep. She is hot and tight around them.

“Fuck.”

“That sounded like a man with something to say.”

I curl my fingers. Her next answer is a moan. I work her harder. Meg’s thighs close around my hips, trapping my hand where she wants it.

“You came in here to fight.”

“I can do both.”