by Avery Laval
Jenna sat very still on the bed and chewed over what he’d just told her. Her body was frozen, her brain churning too fast with the new information to allow her even the energy it would have taken to blink. “That means—” she stammered out.
“It means the situation was a little more complicated than I led you to believe when you showed up after your father’s funeral.” Grant said. “I didn’t want you to know what was going on, and frankly, didn’t think you had a prayer of understanding it anyway. There was no reason to besmirch your father’s name, when it wasn’t going to change the outcome one whit.”
“So you rescued McCormick from financial ruin?” Jenna spurted out, facing the fact that there might have been some truth to what he said about understanding the situation back then. She’d only been 21. It would have been a heck of a responsibility for anyone, let alone a girl who’d done nothing but party since high school.
“And saved the investors from a huge loss. Yes,” Grant supplied.
“And without you there would be no more McCormick Jewels?”
“That’s probably accurate.”
Jenna’s breathing slowed as things began to sink in. “But my father…?”
“He did the best he could. But he was so ambitious. He made a few foolish mistakes, and they could have cost everyone dearly.”
“So this means you didn’t actually cheat me out of my birthright,” she said slowly.
“Not intentionally, no. But the effect was the same. And for that, I’m truly sorry.”
“You’re sorry.” Jenna repeated the words softly, feeling them on her tongue, and as she did, a shattering realization struck her. He really was sorry, but it hadn’t been his fault. Every ounce of bitterness she’d harbored for him, every drop of anger…it was all misguided.
Grant Blakely wasn’t the man she’d made him out to be in her own mind over the last six years. He was a man who—she saw now, with her own eyes—was caring, and intelligent, and kind. Who was truly a knight in shining armor.
“If everything you say is true,” she started, “And somehow I do believe it is, then…” Her voice drifted off. She turned to face Grant, looked him over from top to bottom, and thought hard about what she was about to say.
“Then what, Jenna?” he asked.
“Then,” she picked up again, knowing there would be no going back, and not caring. “There’s absolutely no reason you can’t kiss me right now.”
11
Grant blinked, the words floating over him like soap bubbles that he did not want to pop. Had she really said something so outrageous as, “There’s absolutely no reason you can’t kiss me right now?”
His body gave him all the answer he needed. For it took him only a moment to lean into her, take her mouth with his own, taste the flavor of coffee mixed with Jenna’s sweet cinnamon lips, and get hit by such a massive wave of lust that he felt himself totally lose control. She was delicious, he realized, and now she was his to enjoy, without consequences—for him at least. The thought of having her at last made his body stiffen, and he reminded himself to go slowly, to enjoy every second before he took her. And he would take her.
Jenna writhed under his kiss, surprised at first, though she’d invited the kiss herself, and then loosened into it, pressed back with her lips, opened them just a touch and let him slide his tongue around the outline of her mouth—inside, then deep, searching, a kiss so fierce and unhampered it shook him. She pulled backward, let him lean over her, kissing her all the while, hearing her little gasps as she struggled to get air and yet not break away from their closeness a moment longer than necessary. As he teased her tongue with his own he pushed himself over her, pulled her down on the bed so she lay flat, stretched out long and wanton, her legs weaving themselves around his own. He couldn’t stop himself from plunging his tongue into her deeper, envisioning as he did being truly inside her, in her mouth, between her breasts, inside the deepest, hottest part of her.
With such images swirling in his mind, control began to slip away. His hands moved involuntarily to the skinny cotton straps of her tank top, pushed them off and forced the top over her breasts so they would be exposed to his stare. Just as he’d imagined, he found two sweet small breasts, fit his hands under them in a perfect cup, held them and felt their weight in his hands, and breathed in the moment when he had her at last, so open and vulnerable in his grip. Then, unable to hold back anymore, he lowered his lips to the corner of her chin where it met her neck, then dragged them downward, down to the small dip made by her cleavage. He sunk his tongue into the groove, pressed his lips to the creamy flesh he found there, covered each breast in searching kisses and nips.
Her skin, so soft and so smooth under his fingers and mouth, smelled just slightly of some familiar perfume, but his brain was useless to place it, useless to do anything more than take in the incredible sight of her and the sound of her sighing in pleasure, as he suckled her breast and took tiny nibbles of the flesh there. Her nipples tasted like heaven. They tightened, and the sight drove him wild.
He licked around them, took them in his mouth, pushed and played gently with one, then the other, and when he saw how much it pleased her, he took the hard pink bud of her breast in his teeth, lightly, so lightly, and watched her squirm. It was too much. His cock pressed hard against the fabric of his pants; he groaned in some combination of agony and pure pleasure.
He had to see her. All of her. As soon as possible.
He pulled the flimsy top over her head, noted with pleasure as she willingly sat up and raised her arms, as if offering him her nakedness. He covered her breasts in his large palms now, and dragged his hands across her hot skin down to her narrowing waist, then back up her sides, tracing her silhouette, until his hands reached under her arms and pushed them up into the air. He traced higher still then, to her elbows and beyond, and then grabbed both wrists in one hand and pushed her back on the bed, hands pinned up above her head. She sighed, out of anticipation or delight—he didn’t know which. The sight of her, so exposed beneath him, was beautiful. He kept hold of her wrists with one hand and used the other to push over her nipples, to tweak each one just a little, watching her face contort and teasing her until she said in a sigh, “Oh, God, Grant. I need you.”
Driven, he pulled the drawstring of her pants and watched the waist go slack, then slid his free hand inside, over her panties, brushing down, down, at last to the source of the heat he felt, sliding under her panties to feel the downy curls and hear her moan with delight.
When Jenna felt his hand reach between her thighs, a wrack of anticipation shuddered through her and her head started to spin. He had her completely at his mercy, pinned down on the bed with just one strong hand keeping her from protesting, and instead of feeling trapped, she felt gloriously free. She watched as he tugged her yoga pants down, down, pushed them over her hips and then down her legs. Cold air touched her breasts, still wet from his mouth, and every inch of her skin seemed to electrify. Did he feel it too? There was no question that he did. He seemed almost wild with desire, and the unmistakable look in his eyes spoke of ownership of her body under his.
He dropped her wrists and used both hands to get the pants all the way off, then made quick work of the panties left behind. Now he hovered over her naked body, shirt open and hanging down either side like a curtain shielding her from anyone but him. Hands free, she fumbled at his belt and zipper, trying, but failing, to stare anywhere but at the powerful bulge just under her hands. Finally, she freed him, helped him bring himself out of the trousers and shorts beneath and at last saw him in full. The sight made the heat between her legs grow slicker. He was a stunning man in every way, she realized, the large bulge she’d gaped at moments ago unveiled before her at last. His beautiful rock-hard penis like a divining rod strained wildly upward, the surrounding dark curls doing nothing to mask the size and girth of him. Her mouth opened in a tiny O, then she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a searing kiss, trying to tell him wi
th her body how badly she needed to feel him.
He must have heard her loud and clear, for he spread his legs above her and dropped his head to kiss her, then pulled away from her mouth and leaned his head back like a lion before he slipped on a condom and guided himself into her wet core, inch by maddening inch. His chest dropped, his eyes fell closed, and for just one moment, his body fully relaxed above hers—and then he pushed into her deeper and Jenna let out a cry of sheer abandon. His body pushed and pulled above hers, his penis sliding in and out of her, and the feeling of him in her very center made her wild.
For just one moment, Jenna held on to some vestige of sanity—then it was gone, and she was nothing more than a sensation, the fulfillment turning into burning need and then back again, over and over. The desire grew higher, and she felt the tension build in her fingers, her heels, in the space behind her eyes and down through her spine. When she felt she might cry if she couldn’t find release, Grant leaned back on his knees, changed the angle of his thrusts just enough, and reached with one hand to the spot just above her opening where all the pleasure seemed most concentrated. Resting the pad of his thumb there, he grabbed her behind with the other arm, thrust into her, once, twice, a third time, and then she felt the orgasm pour through her head and burst out in every direction, like a seismic event, like a leap from a burning building into a dream, falling and not caring about anything in the world other than the feeling of Grant’s body inside her own.
And then when the crashing subsided and her eyes regained their focus, she saw his face take on a grimace and heard him cry out her name, a loud, animal sound on his lips, and felt the rushing of him into her. Then there was a collapse of his own, and she felt the hardness of his body replaced with a soft relaxation matched by her sleepy peace. And finally, after a long moment of nothing but their panting breaths, she heard his murmur.
“Oh, Jenna.” On his lips, her name sounded like chocolate ice cream laced with caramel. “Oh, my God. Thank you.”
And for a moment, before she let sleep take over her weary body, she thought of those words and let them echo in her head. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Grant watched her sleep. Instead of feeling drowsy, he felt energized from the passion they’d just shared. Part of him wanted to slip out the door and hit the gym for a five-mile run just to burn off the energy coursing through his veins. The other part wanted to wake Jenna up and have his way with her again, and again and again, until he was sated and his body gave out in fatigue.
He knew which option he would greatly prefer. And that surprised him. He’d hoped that a quick roll in the hay would cure him of his attraction to her, make it easier for him to say goodbye when the time came. But what the two of them had experienced just now was no cure. Instead, it made his desire for her burn even more brightly.
If he’d had half a brain in his head, he would end this now, find her another job, and be rid of her once and for all. It was clear she cared for him already. But then, he rationalized, maybe he didn’t have to give her up just yet. He had plenty of time to explore that lithe body and all the pleasures there were to be found there, and figure out her work situation later. And that was exactly what he meant to do.
And yet, he remembered with a twinge of annoyance, this was not the week to neglect his research. A tract of land on the north side was being eyed by developers for a swath of housing that would net the owner of the property millions if built. The only problem was, it wasn’t part of Blakely Corp’s holdings. Not yet. If he acted fast, he might be able to acquire the property at a reasonable price.
The key was making a smart decision about what that reasonable price was. It was a decision he had to make first thing Monday morning. Too little and it would become an auction. Too much and the profits would vanish. He couldn’t let himself be distracted from real business, no matter how much he wanted to lounge around in bed making Jenna fall in love with his hands, his tongue, every inch of him.
As if she could read his mind even in sleep, Jenna stirred. Her eyes peeled open slowly, and then she stretched like a well-fed cat. The look on her face when she locked eyes with him was one of satisfaction and complete fulfillment. God, how could the woman be so fiery when rubbed the wrong way, and then so incredibly vulnerable the very next moment? It was the sexiest thing about her, and that was saying a lot.
“What just happened?” she said drowsily.
“I don’t know, but I want to do it again,” he replied, his voice thick with hunger. He searched his foggy mind for a way to keep indulging in Jenna without neglecting his work. “Come home with me. Martin can go get your car at the clinic, and we can stay in bed all weekend.” He shot her a steamy look to show her just how much that idea appealed to him. “Room service, the beautiful views, my big, comfortable bed.”
At the mention of that bed, Jenna felt her body stir back to life. “It does sound good,” she began, struggling with herself, “but I can’t. What we just did…it was rash, it was crazy—”
“It was amazing,” supplied Grant, and Jenna had to agree.
“I don’t know what came over me. I was so overwhelmed with everything you’d told me about my father, and you had been so kind to me.”
“I can be even kinder,” he said with a wicked smile. “Come home with me.”
“I just—” She’d let herself be wild, but now she had to use reason. No matter how interested he might seem now, Grant wasn’t looking for anything more than one weekend—and her heart couldn’t bear being toyed with for even that long. “I’d regret it. No.” She tried to put some finality in her voice, but heard how it wavered.
“Then I will have to use persuasion,” Grant said, as he perched on her bed and pulled on his trousers.
“What sort of persuasion?” she asked.
“This sort,” he said, then planted his lips on hers in another one of his stunning kisses. The kisses she was quickly growing addicted to.
This time his lips weren’t gentle and seductive, though. They were demanding. His mouth seemed to sear hers, brand her as his possession, and she felt her resolve weaken.
“Come home with me,” he murmured against her mouth. “I think you feel what I feel. The chemistry between us.”
Jenna could only shake her head in protest, her voice lost to the need she felt. But he made no notice. Instead, he lowered his lips and kissed her again.
Now he kissed her so deeply it took her breath away. She couldn’t be seduced so easily, could she? She had to stay firm, keep her head clear. But in his embrace, the room and their surroundings melted away and she felt the heat between her legs take precedence over any logic or reason.
“Come with me,” he said again. Then even as she held the sheet against her chest as a barrier, he slipped his hand under the thin fabric and cupped her left breast, ran his thumb across the nipple, made her forget everything but the hot sensation of his touch. She moaned, helplessly, and let him plunder her mouth with his tongue, deeply, totally giving herself over to his power.
“That’s better,” he said as he recognized her acquiescence.
In a daze she let him pull the sheet down and take her hands to lift her gently out of bed, hand her a clean chemise and a light linen dress that she’d draped over the back of a chair a few days ago. With a slow, seductive hand, he guided her into the clothes and lead her toward the door.
“Do you need anything else? If you do, we should get it now, because I don’t plan on letting you out of my sight for quite some time,” he told her, wrapping her waist tightly with his strong arm. Her body quivered in response.
“I don’t know,” she murmured, unable to hold a clear thought in her head. “I need you.”
He groaned, raked a hand over his stubble. “We’ve got to get out of here before I have to have you again and we get stuck in the suburbs for the rest of the weekend. Grab your keys and let’s go,” he commanded.
She froze by the door, trying one more time to summon the willpower it would take t
o resist his seduction. He’d promised her nothing more than a weekend of passion. When the weekend was over, they’d be back to assistant and boss again, as if it had never happened. Was it worth it to go through all that, to risk her heart, just so she could lose herself in his arms again even for a short time?
She wished she could be strong. Wished she could tell him no. But she couldn’t find any words but, “Yes. Please.”
So he grabbed her hand and pulled her through the door and she was powerless to do anything but shudder in the excitement of whatever was to come.
12
The second time Grant and Jenna made love, in the lush master bedroom of his Bellagio penthouse, it was slow, intimate, and Jenna wanted to remember every detail, every touch, for as long as she could. When he kissed her, he seemed to be telling her something urgent, speaking of his need and the connection between them. The sensation, though less insistent than his previous kisses, was just as powerful. When he pulled her out of her linen shift and let it crumple on the floor, he took in her entire body, first with his eyes, then his hands, and finally with his lips. By the time his kisses reached the soft curve of her stomach, Jenna found she could no longer stand, and he carried her to his bed as if she was his treasure and started all over again in the other direction, nibbling and sucking at her toes until she squirmed with pleasure.
When at last he slipped out of his pants and eased into bed beside her, her whole body felt magnetically charged, and drawn toward his. She felt her legs, her arms, even the hairs on the back of her neck reaching for him, and as she wrapped herself around him, he slid himself inside her and filled her up slowly, watching her eyes closely as he moved inward, ever inward.
This time when he entered her, it didn’t have that feeling of their first, or their only. This time, though she tried not to think it, it felt like forever. She clung to him as he moved against her, only letting him go for a moment, when he clutched her arms and moved her around to her knees with himself underneath, then guided her hips down, down, until she was once again filled by him, a perfect fit.
