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“Why?”
“Because you’re acting like you just want to be a friend, to have a chat about old times, but that’s never it with you. Be honest and at least admit that you were trying to get me to sleep with you.”
“Believe it or not, my intentions were pure,” he drawled, glad he could be honest. “That’s not to say I wouldn’t welcome you into my bed, if that’s where you wanted to be.”
“It’s not.”
“Are you sure?”
He closed the distance between them, his eyes boring into hers. “Because it seems to me you just showed your hand.”
She looked away and frustration clipped through him.
“I will never sleep with you again.”
“Why does it sound like you’re trying to convince yourself?”
She whipped around to face him, her lips parted and damn it, he shouldn’t have done it, he knew better, but in that moment, Grayson was acting on instinct alone. He kissed her. He took advantage of her surprise and claimed her mouth, his tongue dueling with hers, his body on fire as he remembered all her sweet curves and planes, as he remembered everything about her that he’d loved so much the first time.
“I hate you,” she said, but even as the words spilled from her to him, her hands were pushing at his belt, undoing it, then his button and zipper, so his cock was freed from his jocks, hard and hungry for her. Her breath fired against his throat as she lifted up onto the tips of her toes, her body seeking his, her hands tangling in his hair. Memories were throbbing through him, so the kiss was clarifying and urgent, because he felt like he was in the past and in the present, all at once. Her leg lifted, catching around behind his butt, and he understood what she wanted even without her needing to say it. He lifted her easily – their sizes were no match – and spun, propping her back against the wall of the alley, as his hands caught her underpants and pushed them aside.
He’d never wanted a woman more, but even then, he knew enough to know he needed to know she was sure. A second ago she’d said she hated him.
“I want to fuck you.” He growled, barely moving his mouth away from hers, needing to kiss her, needing all of her.
“Yeah, I know.”
He lifted up to stare into her eyes, forcing her to face whatshewanted, to admit the truth to him.
“And?”
“I want that too, you jerk.”
He smirked, wondering why she hated him so much even when he wasn’t sure he properly cared. All he knew was that he needed her like he needed air. He thrust into Abby, wishing he’d taken a little more time to pull off her underpants, the elastic brushing against him with every movement he made. But even that couldn’t diminish his pleasure at being back. Her muscled squeezed around him, tightening until he could hardly breathe, and she arched her back, moaning into his mouth with his every thrust.
She’d always been so responsive, so goddamned hot for him. It was such a turn on. He moved quickly, knowing neither of them wanted to wait, neither of them wanted to prolong this. Right now, it was the satiating of an urgent need. Later, there’d be time for more. Because there would be a later. They’d opened Pandora’s box and he wasn’t going to let it shut just yet, even when he knew he was heading back to England within a day or so, even when he knew nothing had changed between them.
Her muscles spasmed; he felt her come around him and kissed her harder, swallowing her moans, then he was losing himself, her tightness squeezing every ounce of pleasure from him so he was breathless and spent, his weight holding her up. The whole thing had taken less than five minutes – hardly a record, at least, not a good one, for Grayson – but hell, if it hadn’t been one of the best times in his life.
He let out a low whistle as he eased her to the ground. “I did not see that coming.”
Her slender throat shifted as she swallowed, her eyes fixed to his as she straightened her skirt. “Didn’t you?” The words were hollow and a second later, tears appeared on her eyes. He stared at her, a rush of regret careening through him.
“Abby, you said you wanted that.”
“Yes.” She closed her eyes, her lips pressed together. “I did.” She stuffed her shirt into the skirt but he reached out, his hands on her hips drawing her closer.
“I’m glad. This was always great with us.”
“Yes.” The word was clipped. Why was she angry? Upset? “And now I really do have to go.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to get home.”
“Come home with me,” he suggested instead. “I’m flying back to London tomorrow, but spend the night.”
Her smile was wistful. “You’re living in the UK still?”
