“Of you? Yes, please.” I sat up on my knees at the edge of the bed. “Now.”
He reached behind and pulled his shirt over his head. I took it off his arms and tossed it, too intent on what was in front of me to see where it landed.
Every muscle in my core clenched. Grayson was made for sex, ripped, his muscles not just defined but built, thick and strong. His skin was a beautiful bronze and incredibly soft to my touch. My fingers worshiped the lines of his eight-pack abs. “You’re… God, I don’t even have words for what you are.” My breath became choppy as I trailed over his pecs, and he sucked in his breath when my thumbs grazed his nipples. I leaned forward and ran my tongue over one, and he hissed, his hands weaving through my hair to hold me as I gently scraped my teeth over him, then kissed the flat disc.
Sitting back on my heels, my eyes devoured every incredible inch of him. His stomach tensed under my hands, and I looked up to be held captive by the most intense, hungry stare I’d ever been given. “What are you thinking?”
“That every single weight I’ve ever lifted, or mile I’ve run has been worth it for you to look at me like that.” He caressed my cheek, then slid his hand down to the straps of my dress.
I crossed my arms in front of my stomach, a chill overpowering the heat in his gaze. “Grayson…I’m not…” I motioned to his torso.
He raised an eyebrow as his fingers toyed with the zipper under my arm. “Trust me.”
I’d never been self-conscious about my body before. Stop it. You rock your curves. Eyes locked on each other, I raised my arms above my head. Once he finished unzipping me, I nodded my assent, and he tugged the fabric gently over my head.
Was his breath shaky on that inhale? I opened my eyes and found his all over me. My skin tingled, heated wherever he paused in appreciation, his mouth dropping as his eyes locked onto my lace-cupped breasts, my stomach, then my red lace panties.
“Samantha. Damn. You’re perfect.” He reached for me, then paused. “If I start—if I touch you now…” He shook his head.
We were at his threshold, and he was giving me a choice. Like there is even one to make. I wanted him. I needed Grayson’s weight, those gloriously stacked muscles on me, his strong hands on my body. I needed him so deep that I would still taste him tomorrow—smell him on my skin. I was done waiting.
Reaching behind me, I unclasped my red lace bra and slid the straps down my arms one at a time. He never looked away, and I witnessed the moment desire for me overpowered his every other thought. I actually ached, more turned on by the possessive, predatory widening of his eyes than I ever had been with anyone else.
Once my bra met his discarded shirt, I leaned my breast into his outstretched hand. “Touch me. Don’t worry and don’t stop. I want this. I want you.”
He snapped.
One moment he was in front of me, and the next he was over me, pinning me to the bed as he kissed the breath out of me, one elbow bracing his weight and the other palming my breast. I gasped as he rolled and lightly pinched my nipple. A devious smile lit his face, and my heart stuttered. Holy shit. He was always hot, but smiling? Grayson was beautiful.
I cried out when his mouth latched to my nipple. His tongue swirled and danced, flicking in time as his fingers gave my other breast the same attention. My eyes fluttered shut, trying to absorb the sensations as shots of lightning ran straight through my veins.
He kissed my mouth, settling between my legs. His chest crushed my breasts, abraded the sensitized skin as his hand palmed my curves, resting on my ass. I looped my leg over his hips and rocked into him, using his erection to gain some much-needed friction against my clit.
“Off,” I mumbled, my foot running down his cargo shorts.
He stripped quickly to his boxer briefs, pulling a condom from his wallet and tossing it next to us on the bed. Even his thighs were hot, roped with heavy muscles. “Better?” he asked against my neck, kissing his way down between my breasts.
“Much.”
He grinned, and I had an all-new definition of who my Grayson was. This was him—needy, happy, hungry…mine.
He kissed every inch of my stomach, sucking lightly where my stomach dipped from my rib cage. He treated me like the most important test he could study for, returning to the places that made me gasp, cataloguing what I liked, what made me writhe.
Grayson teased his way down my legs, pausing behind my knees when I sucked in my breath, then pressed his thumbs into the arches of my feet. He was turning me into a puddle of pure hedonistic desire one kiss, one touch at a time, with the patience of someone who’d planned this for a while. My hips rolled as his breath skimmed the lace of my panties.
His grin was nowhere to be found when he locked his eyes on mine and waited for me to nod, then took my panties with him as his hands slid down my legs. He massaged his way back up my legs, keeping agonizing inches away from where I desperately needed him to touch me.
I was going to combust if he didn’t do something about it.
“Grayson, you’re killing me.” My body wouldn’t stay still, needing contact, friction.
“Good. I’ve been dying since the morning I saw your ass on my kitchen counter.” He squeezed the curves for punctuation, then rose to kiss me. I whimpered into his mouth, and he bit gently into my lower lip.
“Samantha.” My name on his lips felt almost as good as his fingers parting me, sliding through my folds until he brushed against my clit.
Amazing. I arched against him. “More. Please, Grayson. More.”