Grant

by Jennifer Ashley

  “Doesn’t matter,” Grant said. “I’m not for sale.”

  “I told you, this isn’t part of the deal. You’re just beautiful.” Karen slid her hands inside Grant’s open shirt. “I love a man with chest hair. So sexy. Where does this go?” She traced Grant’s glory trail to his waistband and tried to pop open his belt buckle.

  Grant trapped her wrists again. “Look, sweetie, you’re real nice, but not right now. I got a million things to do up at the ranch, and—”

  Karen broke free, but heaved a long sigh. “Don’t lie, honey. I can take it. You don’t want me.” She started buttoning her blouse, hiding the bra. “I’m coming on too strong, and you’re used to women who are sweet and polite.” She batted her lashes and let her voice become high-pitched. “Ooh, Grant, are you interested in little ole me? I never dreamed … not me … poor little wallflower.”

  Grant didn’t bother to respond. He started to do up his shirt, realized she’d busted off the buttons, and gave up.

  Karen finished with her blouse and took up her purse. “I’ll be patient,” she said.

  She let her gaze rove over Grant, who leaned back on the counter, hands bracing, shirt open, hair tousled. Christina had to agree—he was beautiful.

  “You’re worth waiting for. Rowrrr.” Karen made a cat-claw gesture then swung around and sauntered out of the trailer, straightening the blouse and suit coat as she went.

  Christina heard the chirp of a car door unlocking then the smooth hum of the BMW engine starting up, the crunch of gravel as Karen drove away.

  “Shit!” Grant said vehemently.

  He picked up a coffee cup, ready to throw it, then slammed the un-drunk coffee into the sink and plunked the cup onto the counter. The second batch of coffee followed, then he ripped the coffee maker’s plug out of the wall.

  Grant stamped toward the bedroom. Christina retreated as fast as she could, but there was nowhere to go. She was only a few feet from the door when he slapped it open.

  A startled yell launched from Grant’s mouth when he saw Christina, and he hurtled backward, straight into the door. His head made an audible crack.

  “Grant.” Christina went to him in alarm. “You okay?”

  “Son of a bitch! Christina, what the holy hell are you doing here?”

  Christina danced between hurt and the absurdity of the situation. She decided to go with absurd.

  “Aw,” she drawled in imitation of Karen. “Honey, you’re just beautiful.” She shoved the placket of Grant’s shirt aside and pressed her fingers flat to his chest. “You’re a big, hot cowboy, and I need me some of that.”

  “Christina.” Grant caught her hands, just as he’d caught Karen’s. “What are you doing sneaking into my place?”

  Christina didn’t answer. She jerked free and ran her fingers down the arrow of hair on his abdomen. “Ooo, where does this go?”

  “Quit that.” Grant’s body started to shake with laughter.

  Christina slid her hands to his nipples, dark against his bronze-colored skin. “And what are these? Do you like that? Oh, I love me a man with chest hair.”

  “Christina … damn it.” Grant grabbed her hands again. “Stop!”

  “Oh, you do like it.” Christina kept her fingers over the tips of his nipples. She was mad and reckless, loving being next to him, and she didn’t care.

  “Sweetheart …”

  “I just want to eat you up.” Christina leaned close, flicking his nipple with her tongue.

  “Baby …”

  His word died into a groan as Christina wrapped her lips around the hard point and started to suck.

  Grant had always liked her playing with his chest, though he never admitted it out loud. The thought of Karen touching him there, maybe triggering his excitement, pissed Christina off.

  Only she got to do that. Christina pressed her palm over his zipper and had a flush of satisfaction to find him rising to her hand.

  “Now, come on,” Grant said, but his voice had gone soft.

  Christina popped his belt buckle then opened his jeans. Any fight in him died into breathless silence as she undid the zipper and pushed the jeans and underwear down his hips.

  Grant’s cock spilled out, thick and hard, caught in Christina’s hand. The familiar weight and girth of it brought the five years of her life she’d tried to push away slamming back into her, as though their time apart hadn’t existed.

  This place, this bedroom, including the bed they’d slept in together, contained so much of him. The onslaught of memories, the scent of him, tangled her in bonds that wouldn’t let go.

  Christina found herself sliding down his body to land on her knees on the soft rug. His jeans sagged, baring his thighs tight with muscle, not an ounce of fat—hard from riding, supple from all the running and acrobatics he did. Between those legs hung a part of him Christina had missed seeing. Grant’s cock had dark hair at its base, the rest of it smooth and taut.

  Grant curled his fists at his sides as Christina plied him with her tongue, more memories flooding back when she tasted the spice of his skin.

  Memories must have come at him too, because he tangled his fingers in her hair, just as he’d done whenever she’d gone down on him in their bedroom … or living room, kitchen, pickup truck, the dense shadows of the rodeo grounds parking lot. “Christina,” he said in his low, dark voice.

  No more fighting, no more protesting. They were Christina and Grant once again.

  Christina slid her mouth over his cock, drawing it all the way inside her.

  Grant’s hand tightened in her hair. He whispered, “Damn,” but didn’t stop her. His hips moved, rocking in time to what she did with her mouth.

  She licked and suckled, rubbed her tongue on him, nibbled his tip. Grant smoothed her hair, cupped her head, leaned back against the door frame to let her reach all she wanted.

  Christina looked up Grant’s long, tall body, his shirt hanging open, to the brush of dark whiskers on his face, his closed eyes, his dark hair streaked by sunshine.

  I love him so much.

  The words scared her. Christina focused again on what she was doing, pulling harder with her mouth. She planted her hands on his thighs, steadying herself and enjoying his body.

  She could tell when he was about to come. He let go of her to ball his fists. His hips rocked faster, and choked groans came from his throat.

  Just before Christina thought she’d feel the heat of his seed in her mouth, he put his hands under her arms and jerked her to his feet.

  Not to stop her. Grant’s eyes were burning blue, his grip closing around her and not letting go.

  “No,” he said, voice rasping. “Not when you’re with someone else.”

  Christina wet her lips. “I broke up with Ray. For good.”

  It took a second for that news to register in his brain. Then Grant’s eyes went flat. He hauled Christina the few steps to the bed, kicked off his jeans, and nearly ripped her shorts off.

  His open shirt brushed her as Grant came over her. His eyes held so much anger, and yet so much need.

  Christina was pushed back into the mattress, Grant’s weight on her, then he parted her thighs and slid himself inside her. Completing her.

  ***

  Grant had no thoughts, no regrets, just being inside Christina until he couldn’t feel anything else.

  Nothing but her body closing around him, her lips and tongue, her hands on his back. Karen had pissed him off, and then damn, there was Christina.

  Between embarrassment, his heart about jumping out of his chest, then Christina going down on him, for fuck’s sake, Grant didn’t have a chance. Self-control dried up and blew away on the hot Texas wind.

  Christina was beautiful, and she was the love of his life. Her dark eyes sparkled, drinking him in, and her arms were around him—where they should be.

  He was inside her—she wrapped him and coaxed him, tightening and loosening at just the right moments. They’d learned each other long ago, and their b
odies still remembered.

  “Damn baby,” Grant whispered. “You are sweet.”

  Christina said nothing—she never did. She always loved him silently, fiercely, until the last when her cries of pleasure told him more than words how deep she was feeling what they did.

  Grant could never be quiet. He groaned out loud, his hips moving faster, the friction hot, erotic, satisfying.

  “And hungry,” he said, voice tight. “You are always so hungry, darlin’.”

  Christina’s eyes were half closed, her tongue at her wet lips. Her breasts moved against him, tight nipples brushing his chest. All the while, her hands roved his back, pulling him harder into her.

  It was wild, frantic, primal. This was Christina, the only woman Grant had ever loved.

  “Aw, fuck,” Grant said softly as his release hit him, far sooner than he wanted it to.

  Christina rocked against him, desperate, her breath coming fast. Grant slid his hand under him and pressed the tight berry between her legs.

  Christina shrieked. Her coming happened then, her body moving in exact time with his, her voice crying his name and making everything all right in his world.

  They christened that bed, room, and house then and there, coming together, the two of them one again.

  Grant let out a last groan and collapsed onto Christina, gathering the woman he loved to his heart.

  ***

  A long time later, Grant peeled open his eyes. The sun was already heading down, late afternoon light pouring in his west-facing window.

  Christina lay on her side against him, one of his arms and his leg around her. Christina was blinking, waking as well.

  “Crap,” she whispered.

  “Shh,” Grant said as she tried to pull away. “I don’t see anything here to regret.” He ran a languid hand through her hair, loving the silky feel of her curls. “Nothing at all.”

  “I know,” Christina said softly. She settled back down, warm against him. “But later, this is going to hurt.”

  “Why does it have to?” What was he talking about? It was hurting already. “Why can’t we just enjoy ourselves? Why does it have to be a drama thing?”

  “I don’t know.” Christina slid her hand over his where he cradled her. “It always is, with us.”

  “Yeah, you got a point.” Grant drew his palm across her shoulder. Damn, she was soft. He’d always loved to kiss and lick her satin skin.

  “You stopped asking me why I was hiding in your bedroom,” Christina said after a silent few moments.

  Grant cupped her breast, closing his finger and thumb over her nipple. “I stopped caring.”

  “I came to warn you about Karen.”

  Grant really didn’t want to talk about Karen. He’d do the commercial, let Carter collect the money, and avoid the woman as much as possible.

  Christina went on. “When I saw you in the diner—the way you acted, I could tell you didn’t know.”

  Grant was only marginally interested in town gossip. “Didn’t know what?”

  Christina turned in his arms to face him. “Karen Marvin runs a development company that wants to buy up every scrap of land in and around Riverbend. They’ll bulldoze it, put in housing developments and shopping centers—make it a bedroom community, a suburb called Riverbend Heights. When you brought her to the diner and were so nice to her … well, everyone jumped to their own conclusions. Most of them think you and your brothers are taking a kickback to help her.”

  Chapter Nine

  Grant stilled, his eyes losing their sexy, languid look. “Shit.”

  Grant’s shirt had come off in their frenzy, baring all of him. Christina couldn’t help but reach for him, running her hand along his firm shoulder.

  “I could tell you didn’t know,’’ she said. “You’d never have been so nice to her if you had.”

  “How do you know this?” Grant demanded. “Why don’t I?”

  “Ray told me,” Christina said, flinching a little as she said his name. Not someone she wanted to bring up when she was in Grant’s bed. “Mrs. Ward confirmed it, and Ted from the feed store filled in the rest. The company apparently specializes in buying up loans and then finding any way they can to foreclose on the property. They do this all the time, mostly preying on small, older towns, where the land values are depressed. They want Bailey’s house—her whole neighborhood—the bar, the diner, all of downtown, and most of the land around it. They’ll buy up the small ranches and farms, everything that’s privately owned.”

  “Damn, damn, damn.” Grant scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Carter hasn’t said a word about that. Does he know?”

  Christina had no idea. “I’m only going by what Mrs. Ward and some others told me. So, when they saw you with Karen, the two of you all friendly …”

  “Hell, no wonder everyone looked at me like I’d burned down an orphanage.”

  “An orphanage with puppies in it,” Christina said, then she scowled. “Like you’d be happy to sell off the town. I can’t believe they believed that.”

  “Well, we are taking her money,” Grant reminded her. “For her damned soap commercial. I need to talk to Carter.”

  He made no move to jump up and go, however, which was fine with Christina. Grant was warm, naked, delectable, in a hot, gorgeous cowboy way. She could stay here with him all the rest of the afternoon and on into the night.

  People at the diner had reminded Christina that Grant was a bad boy, always in trouble when he’d been younger. They thought that being nice to Karen meant he was still bad.

  But they should know better. Grant was a Texas gentleman, raised to be courteous to a lady—any lady—even if she was a shark.

  … And a bitch, and wore too much makeup, and had tried to jump Grant, and …

  Christina relaxed. Grant’s body was around her, keeping her safe from the world. No need to disturb that.

  Their conversation drifted to a close, but they didn’t move to get up, leave, or talk about what had just happened between them.

  The minute they did that, Christina knew, this bubble of serenity would break. Then she’d have to examine the pieces, see if she could fit it together again.

  For now, Christina enjoyed touching Grant’s shoulder, leaning to lick the hollow of his throat. Grant watched her in silence, touching her in response, their mouths meeting from time to time for quiet, warm kisses.

  As the sun slipped down, Grant rolled her under him and slid gently inside her.

  They made love, this time slowly, in warm contentment instead of crazed heat.

  Contentment, that is, until their need built up, their bodies seeking more, then more. Finally Grant’s thrusts came hard and fast, and Christina cried out, giving up on restraint.

  Grant groaned her name, kissing her face, her throat. Christina wound higher, her arms coming around him to cling to his strong body. Grant braced himself on fists, his face set as he loved her in swift strokes.

  A wave of pure joy broke over Christina, taking her down into darkness. She heard her voice, yet felt nothing but the hot wildness where they joined, Grant’s fingers between them doing their magic.

  Christina floated in a world that contained only the two of them, where nothing could ever hurt her.

  “I need you, Christina,” Grant was saying. “You are crazy, hot, and fucking beautiful.”

  He groaned out the last word, his eyes closing tightly. Christina held on, until they were both making a hell of a lot of noise, the bed—the whole damn room— rocking with their loving.

  The sun sank and twilight began, and still they loved, until they fell, exhausted and shaking, into each other, and held on like they’d never let go.

  ***

  Someone pounded on the door. Grant jerked awake, growling.

  Christina lay next to him, tangled in his sheets—still there, amazingly—but someone wanted to come inside in the worst way.

  Grant rolled off the bed, grabbed his jeans and yanked them on, not bothering to locate
his underwear in the dark.

  He snapped on the kitchen light, blinking at the glare, and wrenched open the front door.

  Carter stood on the step, his hazel eyes light green in the dusk. He took in Grant’s disheveled state, and his gaze grew colder.

  Right, like Carter had never had himself a wild afternoon. “What?” Grant snapped.

  Carter tried to look past him. “Damn it, Grant, don’t tell me you have her in here.”

  “Have who in here?”

  “Karen. You disappeared with her after lunch. She didn’t come back to the ranch, and the whole town’s buzzing.”

  Grant’s trailer was a few miles out of town, on the road leading south. If Karen had driven straight back to Fredericksburg, there was a chance no one in Riverbend had seen her go.

  The bedroom door slammed open and Christina strode out, fully dressed.

  “He’s not with Karen,” she declared. “He’s with me. Has been with me all afternoon. Having sex. On his bed.”

  Not much could faze Carter Sullivan, but he blinked a few times, his angry look vanishing. Christina was clearly not what he’d expected.

  “Sorry,” Carter said. “I wouldn’t have charged over here if I’d known.”

  “This wasn’t exactly planned,” Christina said. “But we’re done. I’ll go, and you two can yell at each other all you want.”

  “No!” Grant barked out the word before he could stop it. He put his arm across the doorway. “Don’t go yet. Carter, give us a minute, will you?”

  Carter looked at them both then nodded and put on his hat. “Come up to the house when you’re ready,” he said to Grant.

  He gave Christina a polite nod, then turned and strode from the step to his truck, the moonlight glinting on the deep black of it. Grant closed the door.

  Christina was right behind him, big purse in hand. “I really need to go. See you, Grant.”

  “Hold on a sec,” Grant said in a firm voice. “What are you rushing away for?”

  “I have a job, and I’m late. It’s not fair to the others if I don’t show up on time.”

  “Wait. Stay.” Grant moved his hand from the door to touch her cheek. “I mean, when you’re done with work, come back here. Stay with me.”