“Oh, Grant, oh, yes, oh, please.” She panted in between each word, her body gripping his tightly.
Again, he found himself gritting his teeth to keep from just slamming into her and barreling ahead.
This position was heaven. He could see everything. Every bounce of her breasts, the flush that started on her chest and climbed her throat, her hands gripping the sheets, the way her mouth fell open to make the incredible sounds she made, her gorgeous blue eyes locked on his. He held her thighs in his hands, keeping her wide. She had little leverage, he was completely in control, and yeah, he felt like she had full command of everything—his body, his mind, his heart.
This was dangerous.
And nothing could have stopped him.
“Yes, Grant, oh yes!” Suddenly she was going over the edge, crying out, her body clamping down on his.
Grant thrust hard and fast, feeling the answering ripples of his own orgasm starting.
“Oh yes!” she shouted, coming hard, her neck arching, her upper body lifting off the bed. One hand still gripped the sheet, but the other reached for him, grabbing his arm as if needing to touch him.
“Josie!” Grant felt his body erupt, pleasure blasting through him, as her body gripped him, milking him hard.
He braced a hand on the mattress next to her, letting her leg dangle over the end of the bed.
He dragged in gulps of air, watching her work to catch her breath. Her hair was wild, her skin pink, her limbs loose, lying on the bed as if spent.
He realized he hadn’t even kissed her. He remedied that. Leaning over, he met her lips with his. He felt her smile against his mouth, then return the lazy, deep kiss. Their tongues stroked, and her arms lifted to wrap around his neck, pulling him down on top of her.
As their bodies cooled, they kissed and ran their hands over each other’s bodies languidly.
Finally, Grant lifted his head. “Huh, sex with you is good even without chocolate.”
She laughed. “Told you.”
He squeezed her ass. “I still want to fuck you in your wedding dress.”
She looked puzzled. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” He couldn’t explain it. He ran a hand over her hip. “There’s something about it being your wedding dress that makes me feel like I need to claim you. Something about the ring. The whole thing.”
She didn’t laugh. Or look concerned. She just studied him. Then she nodded. “Yeah. You know what? I want to ride you in the back of the limo with you in your tux too.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You do?” That sounded fucking amazing.
“Yes. While we drive around this city,” she said, nodding.
“Why is that?”
“So that when you wear it in the future, or are in a limo again, or drive around downtown, you think of me,” she said.
And that was it. He wanted to make memories. He wanted that dress to be all about everything he could give her. She’d never traveled before. Not really. She hadn’t been pampered and spoiled. She hadn’t been naughty in a penthouse suite. She hadn’t been risqué in the back seat of a limo. She hadn’t been married before.
He didn’t know if she’d have any of those things again. But he wanted her to remember these firsts, and him, either way.
“I want you to ride me in the back of the limo with me in my tux too,” he said.
“Yeah?” She looked excited and mischievous.
He loved that look on her. “Very much so.”
“Then let’s go get married so we can do that!” she said.
He laughed. “Well, that’s one reason to get married.”
Jocelyn scrambled off the bed. And gave him a hell of a view in the process.
Grant groaned. “Maybe we should shower separately. So Judge Perkins doesn’t have to wait all night for us.”
She paused in the bathroom doorway and gave him a sexy look. “Okay. But next time I shower, I want you in here with me.”
“Done.” He wasn’t sure he had the willpower to stay out next time, frankly.
He wasn’t going to think about the willpower he may, or may not have, when it came time to stay away from her for good. After all of this was over. After she was healthy and stable. After he was back in Chicago again. Alone.
13
There were worse ways to get married.
No one had lost a bet. There were no shotguns involved. No one was drunk.
And damn, her groom looked good in a tux. So good. Grant looked good all the time, but when she’d stepped out of the suite’s bedroom in her shimmery white dress, she’d actually stopped in her tracks at the sight of him.
It was the tux in part. The man filled it out and wore it with the ease that the men she knew wore t-shirts and denim. But he’d also been wearing a smile that had caused her heart to skip a beat. A smile that had been quickly replaced by a look that was a combination of awe and heat.
“You look gorgeous, Jocelyn,” he’d said in a gruff, low voice that had made her stomach flip.
She loved this dress. She never wanted to take it off. It glided over her skin like butter. It clung to her in all the right places but she didn’t feel like she had to suck anything in or prop anything up with spandex or special bras. She was wearing a halter bra that she’d found in the top drawer along with a tiny silk thong. That was it. Two skimpy pieces of lingerie, the dress, and a pair of heels that she was going to beg to keep after the annulment or divorce or whatever. They were the prettiest shoes she’d ever worn. She wasn’t a high-heels kind of girl, but these shoes could change her mind. They were princess shoes. The whole thing was a princess ensemble. Including the freaking tiara.
That she had to give back. She knew that. But that wasn’t stopping her from loving every second it was on top of her head.
She felt sexy and beautiful and confident. And when Grant looked at her the way he’d looked at her in the living room of the suite, she knew that tonight was going to be magical.
She’d pushed the thoughts of gall bladders and hospital bills to the back of her mind. She’d crossed the room—she’d freaking glided across that room—she’d tipped her head to look up at the downright dashing man standing there, and she’d said, “I love all of this. Thank you.”
It wasn’t I love you, but it was honest, and it was appropriate, and it was better than thank you for keeping me out of debt.
“You are very, very welcome.”
And that had seemed very honest as well. He’d offered his arm very gallantly and escorted her to the elevator.
“If I hadn’t already been determined to take you out on the town,” he’d added as they waited for the elevator, “this would have done it. I’m definitely going to be showing you off.”
She’d smiled at that. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been shown off before.
He’d leaned in just as the elevator car arrived. “And if I hadn’t already been determined to fuck you in that dress, this would have done it.”
Then the doors swished open, and he nudged her inside, with her heart pounding and her body warm and her new thong damp. But before she could come up with a response, the car stopped on the next floor and opened to let two more couples on.
She had to bite her tongue and Grant chuckled beside her. As if he knew. Well, she would get him back. Making the serious, always-in-charge Grant Lorre lose that control and have some fun had already been very enjoyable. She knew that he hadn’t planned on having sex when they were up in the room earlier.
The rush of power that gave her was crazy. But she loved it.
The ceremony in front of the judge was simple. It was nothing like any wedding ceremony she’d ever imagined, but that was good. None of her friends were there. Her parents and grandparents and sisters weren’t there. There was no beautiful meaningful music, and the vows were straightforward and basic.
The whole thing took about ten minutes.
And it was good.
Because she never could have gotten through it if all of those
people had been there, if someone had sung “A Thousand Years” by Christina Perri, if Grant had said, “Love, honor, and cherish” to her.
She wanted all of that. But this, with Grant, wasn’t it. So this ceremony was perfect.
The dress and tiara and ring were all part of this fantasy weekend getaway. Grant was part of that. The hotel suite, the limo, the hot sex. All of that was new, different, probably once in a lifetime.
She was going to remember this as a vacation, a hot fling, a dream. The ceremony was just a ten-minute reality check, and then she could dive back into the dream.
They said, “I do.” They exchanged rings—Grant had one for her to slip on his finger as well. The judge pronounced them man and wife. Grant smiled at her. And it was a great smile.
Of course, it wasn’t love on Grant’s face. But damn, he was doing a great job faking it. And she thought she could safely call it affection. Grant liked her. He wasn’t upset about being here. Starting a marriage with affection and major chemistry wasn’t terrible. It wasn’t even a terrible way to spend the entire marriage. At least when the marriage was going to be about a month long.
And then they kissed.
The kiss felt pretty real, she had to admit.
The way Grant cupped her face with both big hands and leaned in, taking her mouth in a slow, sweet kiss that didn’t even involve tongues but promised at more—so much more—later… yeah, that all felt very real.
Then they were back in the limo.
She gave him a grin as the driver pulled away from the curb.
“Dinner first,” Grant said.
“What do you mean?”
“I know what that look on your face means,” he said. “You just keep your sweet ass on that seat for right now. We’re only a few blocks away from the restaurant.”
In spite of the wedding in a judge’s office, she was feeling good and playful and not disappointed as she’d thought she might. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she told him, running her fingertips over the back of his hand where it rested on her knee.
See, if he didn’t want to do anything risqué in the back seat of this limo, he shouldn’t put his big, hot hands on her. But Grant hadn’t stopped touching her since she’d walked out of the bedroom in The Dress.
The Dress was how she was going to refer to it forever.
He’d held her hand, or had his hand on her lower back, or at her waist, or like now, on her leg, ever since she’d taken his arm to walk out of the suite.
“You’re thinking about climbing into my lap, unzipping me, moving that thong to the side, and taking me deep,” he said, his voice rumbling, his hand tightening on her leg.
She was thinking about exactly that. But hearing him say it made her suck in a quick breath. “Would that be so bad?” she asked.
His gaze dropped to her mouth, then went back to her eyes. “You think you can come in three minutes?” he asked, his hand moving up and down her thigh, rubbing the silky fabric along her skin. “Because that’s how far from the restaurant we are. And you will come before I let you off my cock.”
Her whole body flushed. The sex was so good. That was going to be hard enough to let go of when this was over. But the dirty talk was going to be the biggest loss, honestly. She loved that.
“I think it’s very possible that three minutes is enough,” she told him, her gaze on his lips now.
He smiled, a wicked smile that made her not want dinner at all.
“Challenge accepted.”
Oh, yes. She slid across the few inches of leather and hiked her skirt up, straddling his thighs.
He smiled up at her. Something in his expression made her pause. He looked far too satisfied. As if this was going exactly according to plan. Huh. That seemed less like she was teasing him to the point of abandoning all of his plans and more like he was in complete control.
He reached behind her neck and unhooked the tiny hook holding her bodice up. It dropped away and he curled a finger into the top of the cup of one side of her bra, pulling it down. He immediately lower his head and took her nipple in his mouth, licking and then sucking hard.
She gasped, arching closer, her hand going to the back of his head.
He ran a hand up her thigh to her hip and slipped a finger under the lacy edge of her thong. But he simply pulled, rubbing the thong against her clit as he sucked on her nipple.
The car came to a stop, and he removed his hand, pulled her bra up, refastened her dress, and slid her off his lap.
“Let’s go to dinner,” he said, straightening his tie and then opening his door.
He slid out and then leaned back in, offering his hand. “You coming, Jocelyn?”
Well, she’d been about to. She glared at him. “That was mean.”
He grinned. “I told you we were close.”
“You also said you accepted the three-minute challenge.”
“I did,” he agreed, snagging her wrist and tugging slightly.
She slid across the seat and let him help her out of the car. Once she was standing, he put his hand on her ass and his mouth against her ear. “I didn’t say when the three minutes would start though.”
“They didn’t start when the nipple made its appearance?” she asked, sounding huffy.
She was just wound up and completely not hungry now. Well, not hungry for food.
“That was what we call getting a competitive advantage,” he said.
“Listen here, Grant Lorre,” she said, sticking a finger in his face. “I am going to have sex in the back seat of a limo at least once in my life, and this might be my only chance. So we can go and have dinner and whatever, but you better not think that all you’re going to do in that car is tease me.”
He squeezed her ass, bringing her up against him more fully. “I have very big plans for you and that car, Jocelyn Lorre.”
Her heart turned over, and her panties got even wetter and it had nothing to do with the big promise—that she knew he could deliver on—and all about him using her new last name.
She took a deep breath. “That’s better.” She wet her lips, smoothed the front of her dress, and stepped back.
He gave her a wicked, knowing smile.
Then they went to dinner.
It was a gorgeous restaurant. Exactly the type of place she’d always wanted to dine. Five courses, white linen tablecloths, multiple forks, the whole thing. The food was delicious, the wine perfect, and Grant was sweet about helping her pick things she’d like from the menu.
Josie had completely intended to tease him throughout the meal. Licking her fork and moaning and all of that. A lot like he’d done over those cheesy potatoes at Maggie’s. But she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the view out the window. Grant sat just to her right, but he’d given her the chair that looked directly out over the city and the lake. It was breathtaking. She’d never seen so many lights all at once in her life. She’d never been up this high. That all sounded so stupid in her head. Very small-town hick, to be honest. But she was a small-town girl, who hadn’t traveled far beyond her own backyard.
Grant was giving her the trip of a lifetime. She turned to look at him as the waiter cleared their plates.
“Amazing,” she said. “This is all amazing.”
Grant was sitting, leaned back in his chair, his bow tie loosened, twisting the stem of his wineglass between his thumb and finger, and watching her. She didn’t know if he’d looked out the window more than a couple of times.
“I’m really glad you’re enjoying it,” he told her.
She propped her chin on her hand and looked back at him. “Is it boring by now? You’ve seen it all so many times that it’s nothing special?”
He frowned slightly. “No. It’s familiar, yes.” He glanced at the window then back to her. “I love this city. It’s home. But I love watching you look at it more.”
She gave him a slow smile. “That’s sweet.” It was romantic was what it was.
“You’re gorgeous. Al
l the time, but especially when you’re excited about something.”
The warmth that flooded through her was different than the heat he so easily caused to wash over her. “Thank you. It’s may be a little silly to be so excited about all of this. But I’ve never worn a dress like this or seen a city like this.”
He shook his head slowly. “I love seeing you with all of that too, but you’re just as gorgeous when you’re excited about simpler things. Like the day you handed me the box with the pussy cupcake in it.”
She would never not blush when he said pussy, she decided. Not because it embarrassed her but because he made the word sound so dirty and delicious at the same time. She shifted on her chair. “I was feeling playful,” she admitted.
“I like that look on you,” he said. “You also looked beautiful the day Mrs. Milford came in to pick up a cake. You made a point of showing it to her before she paid for it.”
Josie felt her eyes widen. “You noticed that?”
“I did. The morning she came in to pick it up, I was still there getting my scones.”
Josie smiled about the scones. Those stupid, boring scones. “And you noticed how I looked?”
“Whenever you’re anywhere in sight, I watch you.”
She took a quick breath. “That should sound creepy.”
“Does it?”
“No.” It was hot. And kind of sweet. And the R-word.
“You always look very happy to be serving your customers, actually,” he said. “And always beautiful. But I can tell which cupcakes you’ve decorated.”
“You can?”
“You light up a little more when someone chooses one of them.”
She shook her head. “It’s crazy that you notice that.”
He shrugged. “Maybe a little creepy too.”
She laughed. “Maybe it’s crazy that I like you being creepy.”
“It probably is,” he agreed with a small smile. “So what was it about that cake?” he asked. “You were especially… glowing when you gave it to her.”
Making Whoopie (Hot Cakes Book 3) Page 18
