by Lucy Score
And Paige and her crew would sleep like the dead before catching a flight out the next afternoon.
Upstairs, the carpet installers worked to finish the bedrooms while the tile guys wrapped up in Carina’s paradise of a master bathroom. Malia’s room had blush pink walls and a deep window seat filled with pink and purple cushions. Paige had gotten a peek at the bed that Gannon would assemble in the room tomorrow, and it was indeed fit for a princess.
She touched base one more time with the overnight Brunelli foreman who assured her she had everything under control and called it a night.
Soaked to the bone with not an ounce of energy left, Paige left a trail of wet clothes from the door of her hotel room to the bed. She didn’t bother turning on any of the lights except the one on the nightstand. There was no energy for a prolonged bedtime ritual. She triple checked her alarm. It was one in the morning now, and she had to be back on set no later than six-thirty. Ugh.
Paige flopped down on the mattress assured that tonight she was too tired to lay awake thinking, missing, yearning. She wouldn’t think about Cat’s lecture, wouldn’t think about Gannon’s claims that he and Meeghan had been a publicity stunt. Nope. Wouldn’t think about that at all.
She waited for sleep to come. And waited. But she was still wide-awake minutes later when she heard the knock at her door. She debated ignoring it.
“Paige, open up.” Gannon’s voice, tired and annoyed, came from the other side of her door.
Grumbling under her breath, Paige yanked a tank top on over her head and stumbled out of bed.
“What?” she demanded, opening the door a crack.
He pushed past her into the room, his wet t-shirt molded to his chest, his sneakers squishing with every step. Without bothering to look at her, he peeled off his shirt and let it land in a wet heap on the floor.
“What are you doing?” She was too tired to work her way up to anything other than mild irritation. He toed off his shoes and peeled off the damp, dirty socks.
He shoved his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts and looked at her, annoyed. “Do you want to sleep? I do. I’m not in the mood to spend one more night staring at the fucking ceiling wondering why I sleep so much better with you next to me.” He shucked off the shorts and stood defiantly before her in grey boxer briefs.
His body hypnotized her. It was Paige’s only explanation for why she didn’t stop him when he yanked the covers down and flopped onto the mattress.
What the hell was she supposed to do? He’d just charged in here and taken over her bed. If she climbed in, she’d be surrendering. But did she really have the energy to fight him?
Gannon held the covers up, and after a second of internal debate, Paige gave in. She climbed in, settling her back against his delicious warmth. His hard thighs and broad chest cradled her body, and she bit back a sigh. Whatever the reason, she slept better with Gannon King’s spectacular body wrapped around hers, and tonight she was too tired to question it.
Gannon slapped at the nightstand lamp until it turned off. Darkness settled once again, but this time, Paige knew sleep would come. He shifted behind her just enough to nuzzle against the top of her head.
“I can hear you smirking,” she yawned. “Don’t think we won’t discuss this tomorrow.”
“Shut up, princess.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Paige’s eyes fluttered open to the still dark of her room. She’d slept and slept deeply. The nightstand clock read 5:30, yet she felt as though she’d gotten a full eight hours. Her breast felt heavy, aroused, and then she realized Gannon was cupping it with one big hand. His rough palm had teased the nipple into a hard bud.
He stirred in his sleep behind her, his hips shifting against her. The thick length of his erection prodded her to a new level of awareness.
Warm and safe in his arms, her body came to life as a raw need began to bloom between her thighs. She bit her lip and tried to will herself back to sleep, but her body wasn’t having it. There was only one thing it wanted, and it was so close. Testing, she wiggled her hips against him and was rewarded with the throb of his cock where it nestled against her.
The ache within her intensified, pulsing with an emptiness that demanded to be filled. The room was so quiet and so dark, it felt… apart from the rest of the world. As if whatever happened within these walls could stay here while everything else moved forward. Whatever occurred on this bed in this room could stay here, in its shrine of solitude, while outside day broke and work began.
She was talking herself into it. The neediness of her body was providing too sharp a temptation to fight. Did he want her? Really want her the way she craved him? And was she ready to find out, ready to stop fighting everything but what she wanted?
His fingers flexed restlessly against the flesh of her breast, and Paige bit her lip. She rolled in his arms to face him in the dark and trailed a palm down his chest and over each ridge of abs. Her breast burning where his hand had been. She hadn’t realized he was awake, but without a word, his hand came to hers guiding it lower and lower over the V of muscle, down the light trail of hair leading her down.
Wordlessly, he shoved her hand under the waistband of his underwear. His breath caught when her fingers closed around his shaft. He was thick and hot beneath her touch as if he were molten steel encased in smooth, veined flesh. She paused, just gripping him in her greedy fist. Paige felt his breath, one slow exhale, on her face.
Still gripping him, she tugged the waistband down until she’d freed his cock, until she could palm his balls freely. His intake of breath was sharp, almost pained, and when she began to work his cock with her hand, he groaned between gritted teeth.
She stroked up, her closed fingers catching on the ridge of the crown before gliding back down to the thick root. Touching him like this turned the needy pulse inside her into a steady, aching throb.
“Paige. Are you sure?” His voice was gravelly with sleep and need.
Was she? In this second, she was more sure of this than anything else in her life. Would she be sure after? Did it matter?
“Paige. Answer me. I need to know.”
“Yes.” That one word seemed to set him free. He reached over her and smacked on the light.
“I need to see you,” he breathed.
She stroked up his length, squeezing at the top, and felt the moisture beginning to gather at his tip. His eyes were glassy.
“Do you want me?” she whispered the words, not wanting to break any spell.
He reached down between their bodies and swiped at the moisture that leaked from his cock. Bringing those fingers to her mouth, he pressed them against her lips. “What do you think?” he rasped.
She licked at the pads of his fingers, tasting the salty moisture, and he groaned, low and guttural. She could feel the pulse of his blood throbbing beneath her grip.
“We don’t have much time,” he murmured to her.
“I don’t care. I want you, Gannon.”
Reaching for her, he shifted onto his back pulling her over him to straddle his hips.
“Don’t let me hurt you,” he warned. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was talking about her injuries or her heart. But the second the wide crest of his penis grazed her swollen clit, she forgot any such worries.
“Whoa, honey. I don’t have a condom.” His entire body was rigid beneath hers, his big hands flexing into the flesh of her hips.
She did. In her emergency kit she carted around with her. Though now wasn’t the time to mention to him that the reason she carried condoms was because Cat once forgot her own and came knocking in the middle of the night. A brother didn’t need to know everything about his sister.
“Wait here,” she murmured, reluctantly sliding off of his body and rummaging through the bag she’d dumped just inside the door. She found them in an inner pocket and returned triumphantly to the bed.
Paige paused, caught up in the hedonistic picture he made, sprawled naked across her white sheets, the
heavy length of his erection lay across his stomach.
“Honey, if you stare much longer, I’m not going to have enough time to make you come more than once,” he warned.
It was all the encouragement Paige needed. She slid her underwear down her legs and enjoyed his groan. Gannon palmed his cock, fisting it around the root and stroking up as he watched her crawl across the mattress to him.
Careful of her bruises, she slid one leg over him and perched on his concrete thighs.
“You are so goddamn beautiful, Paige,” he whispered, slowing his strokes to a lazy pace.
He hissed out a breath when she rolled the condom onto his column of flesh. With his eyes closed tight, Paige slid up and over him, notching the head of his cock against her wet center. His hands busied themselves by tugging her tank top up to expose both breasts. And as he palmed her heavy, round flesh, Paige slowly lowered herself onto him. The angle, the girth of him, forced her to take it slow, relaxing carefully to accommodate him. He abandoned her breasts for a moment to grip her hips and slide home, fully sheathed in her.
Paige rocked her hips side to side, trying to get a little room. He was so damn huge, and she was so full of him. They stayed like that for a moment, joined as deeply as two souls could be, their breath ragged.
“Okay?” he gritted out.
So much better than okay. So much better than perfect. She wanted to tell him, but there were no words. So Paige showed him instead. Tentatively, she rose up on her knees, feeling him withdraw inch by inch before she glided back down, taking him back inside her. When he was buried in her again, he groaned, a sound of exquisite pain. Gannon reached up to grip her hair and pulled her down for a kiss. His tongue mimicked the aggressive thrust of his cock in and out of her wet mouth until Paige felt weak with the all-consuming need that grew between them.
This was what she’d wanted, what she’d tried to fight. This is what she had no intention of living without now.
She was on top, she should have been the aggressor, but it was Gannon who set the pace. Rearing up, he broke the kiss and found an aching nipple to ply with attention. She gasped at the rough stroke of tongue, the gentle suction and tug of his lips. She felt… heavenly. As if, for the first time in her life, she was using her body as it had been designed, to give and receive pleasure.
She accepted his shallow thrusts, rocking her hips into him.
“Gannon,” she gasped. “I’m going to—”
There was no other warning as the climax ripped through her. She felt it everywhere, in the nipple he licked at, the muscles that clenched his shaft as he thrust deeper into her, in her toes that curled as the heat shot through her body like lightning. It built and broke, built and broke, and each wave made Gannon crazier beneath her.
She sobbed out a gasp, throwing her head back to surrender gloriously to him.
“Again,” he demanded.
With more care than she would have thought possible, he rolled them, pressing her back into the mattress while he loomed above her. He knelt between her thighs, the broad head of his erection heavy against her slit. “Tell me if I hurt you,” he growled.
She nodded, willing to agree to anything at this moment.
“I’m going to try to be careful, but I can’t guarantee I won’t lose it,” he breathed, adjusting himself against her entrance. He skimmed his palms over her inner thighs, gently pressing them open. “Are you ready?”
She nodded, her eyes wide, lips parted. She was ready for anything Gannon had to give her. He drove into her with one swift thrust. Paige’s hips levered up to meet him as if they had a mind of their own. The biological need to chase down that next orgasm took over. She opened herself to him. He pressed her knees up against her shoulders and held them there, draping her thighs over his upper arms.
She was folded up and completely at his mercy. But rather than feeling terrified, Paige felt hungry for more. Her first orgasm was still echoing within her, but all she wanted was another.
“This isn’t enough,” he muttered, echoing her thoughts. “I need more time with you. I need to taste you.” He slammed into her, his intention to be gentle fading beneath the bloom of desire. “I need to explore every fucking inch of you.”
His thrusts were becoming wilder and wilder. Paige’s breasts bounced with the ferocity of his pace.
Words failed them both, but their gazes locked, and she knew what he was thinking and feeling. They were racing together, chasing down their release. She knew he was ready just by the way his hazel eyes seemed to sharpen on her.
“Yes.” She got the word out, and it was as if it had set them free.
He slammed into her up to the hilt and grunted. She felt the slow motion pulse of his first ejaculation and it set off her release, closing her muscles around him and gripping him as everything exploded around them. He poured himself into her, and she wrung him dry with her own climax. Still echoing in and around each other, Gannon collapsed on top of her, their breath coming in pants, sweat soaked chests sliding over each other.
He was kissing her, pressing chaste pecks to her face and hair as the last of the waves began to recede.
“I need more,” she confessed, wide-eyed at the magnitude of what lay between them now.
“I promise you, princess, this is just the beginning.”
Before she could tell him to prove it, a frantic knock at the door had Paige wiggling out from under him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Paige?” Mel’s voice carried through the door.
“I’m going to murder her,” Gannon muttered. “She’s a dead woman.”
Paige slapped a hand over his mouth. “What’s going on, Mel?” she called. She shot Gannon a warning look and jumped out of bed.
“Billie just called from the site,” Mel yelled through the door. “Said she couldn’t get through to you. The furniture truck just showed up and is blocking the street. It’s gotta be unloaded ASAP, or we’ll get cited for obstructing traffic.”
“Shit. Shit. Shit,” Paige muttered yanking on a pair of shorts and a tank top. “I’ll be out in a minute,” she called through the door.
“Meet you in the parking lot,” Mel said.
“Goddamn it.” Paige pulled a tank top over her head. “I hate this job.”
“For the love of God, woman, please put on a bra,” Gannon begged. “If I know you’re braless under there all day, they’re going to have to pixelate my crotch in post-production.”
Paige paused, glancing down his body and raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know if they have enough pixels.”
He grabbed her by the waistband of her gym shorts and kissed her hard. “This isn’t over,” he promised.
“It better not be.”
––—
It was chaos, but they managed to get the damn truck unloaded and moved before traffic control came in with their stupid pink ticket and fat fines. Of course, they had to drive the truck around the block, reload some of the furniture, and then unload it again for the stupid cameras, but Gannon was in a good enough mood that he didn’t bitch about it… much.
Four hours of sleep and one hell of an orgasm left him feeling pretty much on top of the world. And getting to spend his day staring at Paige in those little blue gym shorts and her #BeastMode tank top while she managed eight thousand details? That wasn’t so bad either.
There were a lot of things that surprised him about Paige, none of which disappointed him. She was tough as nails, gimping around the set without letting her injuries slow her down. She was a goddess in bed. Independent and smart-mouthed, she could handle him no matter what his mood. She never made any demands of him, at least not beyond work. And there? Paige challenged him to be better.
His only regret was waiting an entire year before really getting to know her.
When Kings of Construction started, he’d deliberately kept himself out of the production side of things, preferring to focus on his sister and his guys instead. They’d been through it all with him, had
stood by him, and had earned his loyalty. He needed to make sure they came first.
But trying to ignore Paige, and any other network or production company drones, for the entire first season had been a mistake. He’d missed out on too much time with her, and he could have nipped the whole Meeghan Traxx debacle in the bud long ago. That grated him. He’d been lazy there, avoiding and ignoring the situation, and now it was a volcano ready to blow.
He’d fix it. But first, he had plans for Paige.
They had a few days off coming up, and he was planning on spending them in bed with her. That thought kept him obnoxiously amiable on set.
He didn’t even put up a fuss when Paige made him reassemble the canopy of Malia’s bed after she found out cameras hadn’t caught him putting it together. He was in too good of a mood to bother. It appeared the mood was contagious.
Mother Nature showed her sense of humor by replacing yesterday’s rainstorms with brilliant sunshine and drenching humidity. His crew busted their asses through the final hours before the reveal, whistling off-key pop songs and ribbing each other.
The air was filled with the scents of fresh paint and carpet, of newness.
The production crew, for the most part, let his guys do their thing and recorded load-in. By this point in filming, the focus was on Cat and her design crap. Cat could swing a hammer as well as he could, but because she had “lady parts,” she’d been labeled the show’s designer.
There was very little to do in the house. Brunelli’s crew had done such a good job, Andy had them undo a few of the things they’d done to get shots of Gannon and Cat furiously working up to the deadline to finish the house. Another little lie that added to the story. Hurry up and finish Cancer Kid’s house, he imagined the show’s teaser would hint.
Paige’s mantra ran through his mind. One more season.
Unlike his sister, who was mugging for the camera while she frantically reattached vanity drawer pulls in the master bath, he was not cut out for TV. With one more season’s paycheck, he could keep his grandfather’s company out of the red and finally get back to his own life, his own dreams.
