by Tawna Fenske
Anna licked her lips. “Just one.”
“What’s that?”
She swallowed, taking a moment to consider her words. They’d agreed to keep things professional, but weren’t they well beyond that now? How much did it really matter, anyway?
Anna took a steadying breath. “Do you want to fuck me?”
“No.”
“No?” A wave of disappointment sloshed in her belly, but she tried not to let it show on her face.
Grant slid his hand over her knee, claiming it, as his gaze held hers. “Right now, I don’t want to fuck you. What I want to do is make love to you so fiercely you forget your own name.”
Anna dropped the battery. She felt it thunk against her anklebone, and it probably hurt, but she didn’t feel a damn thing. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t blink. All she could do was stare into those gray eyes and nod.
“Okay.”
Her acquiescence was probably irrelevant at this point. Not that Grant was the sort of guy to take her without consent, but with every nerve in her body screaming consent in a shrieking harmony of hormones, it was pretty damn obvious she wanted him.
He stood up and moved his hands under her. Before she could ask what he was doing, he’d scooped her into his arms and was carrying her down the hallway toward his bedroom.
“Grant, I can walk.”
“Of course you can. I’d just prefer to carry you at this moment.”
His chest was huge and muscular, and his arms were flexed with the effort of holding her. She knew this sort of caveman behavior shouldn’t turn her on, but she was so wet from wanting him that her thighs felt glued together.
He turned the corner and took four steps to the bed. He tossed her backward, and she flailed for a moment, struggling for a graceful landing. Grant was on her in an instant, his eyes locked with hers as he grabbed the hem of her dress and tugged it upward. She raised her arms like an obedient girl, breathless with heat and the sheer power of him. He flung her dress aside and claimed her mouth, kissing her with a ferocity that left her moaning against his lips.
When he drew back, his eyes were molten. “I want to make you come until you can’t stand.”
She could only nod as he reached for the waistband of her panties. She wasn’t wearing a bra—thank God for that—and he stripped the lacy thong from her and grabbed her legs. Shoving her thighs apart, he sank to his knees beside the bed. He caught her by the hips and pulled her roughly to the edge of the mattress.
For an instant, she felt exposed. Vulnerable. Naked. Then his mouth was on her and she forgot all that, forgot her insecurities and her self-consciousness and probably her social security number as his tongue plunged into her.
“Oh, God!” she cried out, clenching her fingers in his hair as she arched her hips up.
He responded by pushing her thighs open wider, his mouth everywhere at once as he licked and stroked and devoured her. He slid one finger into her, then two, and holy mother of hell what was that spot he grazed with his fingertip? It felt so goddamn good in places she never knew she had and if he didn’t stop stroking like that, she was seriously going to—
“I’m going to come.”
“Mmm,” he murmured against her, and the vibration was enough to send her skyrocketing to oblivion. She shrieked as the first wave of orgasm hit her, then another, and too many more to count. He rode it with her, probing, stroking, licking, making her mindless until she was panting and breathless on the damp duvet.
When she opened her eyes, he was hovering over her. His gaze locked with hers, hot and gray and molten. “You are delicious.”
“You are—” She tried to recall if she needed an adjective or a noun or a verb, but couldn’t remember what any of those things were anyway, so it didn’t matter. “Holy fuck.”
He grinned and reached behind him to the nightstand. She heard the crinkle of cellophane and knew he was slipping on a condom. Somehow he managed to do it without breaking eye contact, without taking his hand off her hip. He moved over her, strong, forceful, intense.
She felt his knee between hers, pushing her legs apart. The weight of him on top of her was exquisite, the points of his hip bones hard against her softness. She opened her legs wider and pressed the heels of her hands against his ass. His eyes were still locked on hers, and though he hadn’t said a word, she nodded.
“Yes.”
Grant slid into her and Anna gasped, shocked at how deeply he filled her. His forehead was inches from hers, those gray eyes drilling into her as he drew back and plunged into her again. She closed her eyes and cried out, stunned by the magnitude of the sensation. Even with her eyes shut tight, she could feel his gaze on hers.
“Anna,” he murmured and drove into her again.
His rhythm was achingly slow, and Anna arched up to meet his thrust. She opened her eyes again and lost herself in the gray depths of his. She could see every fleck of silver, every warm hint of taupe, a kaleidoscope of ash and earth and sky and cloud in that intense gaze.
She was breathing fast now, and realized he was matching her breath for breath, thrust for thrust. He drove into her again, and Anna lifted her hips to feel him deeper.
He angled up on his forearms, rising above her as he thrust into her at an angle that made her cry out again. She could see every ripple of muscle in his chest, the hugeness of his biceps, the span of his shoulders, and still, those eyes, those eyes—
“My God,” she whimpered, fingers clenching so hard in the sheets she felt her fingernail split. There was something about the eye contact that amplified every thrust, every breath, every pulse, every point where their skin touched.
Something was buzzing in the back of her brain, faint at first, then louder until her ears roared with sound and sensation. She could feel herself hurtling toward the edge, and she raised her hips to meet it.
“Grant,” she gasped.
A knowing look flashed in his eyes as he drove into her harder, his forehead nearly touching hers, their gazes locked as tightly as their bodies as Anna cried out and clenched her thighs around him.
“That’s it,” he whispered, thrusting deep as something inside her exploded. “Let go.”
She did, giving in to an eruption of pleasure that pulsed through her whole body.
Grant was two beats behind. “Oh, God.”
She saw it in his eyes the instant he toppled into the chasm with her. A momentary flash of surprise, then pleasure so intense his eyes went dark with it. Anna screamed and clawed his back, but Grant didn’t flinch. He drove into her again as Anna arched and bucked and cried out, his eyes never leaving hers.
At last, she felt him go still. Anna was the first to blink.
“What the hell was that?”
Grant laughed and rolled to the side, pulling her with him. “I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or a sign of medical distress.”
His hand slid over her waist, and Anna let him pull her up so they lay face-to-face, nose to nose, chest to chest. She breathed him in, still too shell-shocked to do anything but stare at him.
“That thing you did with the intense eye contact and the breathing and your hips and—” She stopped, not sure she was making any sense or that he was even aware of any of the things he’d done to blow her mind. She swallowed and reached a hand up to stroke the side of his face. “That was amazing.”
He grinned. “It was. Thank you.”
She opened her mouth to say more, then shut it. She honestly wasn’t sure what words might come tumbling out, and some things were better left unsaid.
Instead, she settled for snuggling closer to his chest and closing her eyes. “You feel good.”
He planted a kiss at the edge of her hairline, and she felt him draw a breath as he did it. “Are you tired? I know some of those meds can make you drowsy.”
“I’m fine,” she murmured, though her limbs were already feeling heavy with fatigue.
“Does the bite hurt?”
“Not at all. S
ex is the world’s best painkiller.”
“You can stay here tonight if you want. I’ll call Janelle to let her know.”
“Mmmm,” Anna replied, not sure how she’d gotten so tired all of a sudden but knowing it was useless to fight. She could trust Grant to take care of things. Hell, she could trust him to repave her driveway if she needed it. He was the kind of man a woman could count on as a friend, a lover, a husband—
She stopped, wide awake now. Husband?
She swallowed hard, curling her body against his. “Grant?”
“Mmmhm?”
“There’s something I feel like I should tell you.”
“Should I get the battery?”
She laughed, but it came out sounding stilted and nervous. “I don’t need the battery, but I do need to swear you to secrecy.”
His palm curled around her hip, and he drew her closer. “What is it?”
She sighed and reached down to grip his hand. “It’s something I’ve never told anyone else before,” she said, her voice soft and shaky. “Something I want to tell you.”
Chapter Ten
Anna swallowed hard, gathering the nerve to confess her darkest secret. Beside her, Grant angled up on one elbow to peer down at her.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern as those storm-gray eyes looked into hers.
“It’s about marriage. I’ve only told you half the truth about why I don’t want to get married. Ever,” she added, in case he’d forgotten.
“Did something happen?”
“I guess you could say that,” she said, closing her eyes so she wouldn’t feel his boring into her soul. “I was serious about Janelle’s divorce being my last straw, the final thing that convinced me I can’t trust my judgment when it comes to relationships. But something happened about a year before that. It was part of the reason I pushed so hard for Janelle to marry Jacques. I wanted someone in our family to finally get it right.”
Grant’s breath was soft and warm against her skin. “How do you mean?”
“I met this guy at my favorite lunch spot in Portland. We both ordered the green curry with chicken and our orders got mixed up and—anyway, it doesn’t matter. It seemed like a sign. Like fate.”
“Fate,” he repeated, and Anna opened her eyes. She half expected to see judgment or mockery in his expression, but all she saw was encouragement. She took a shaky breath and kept going.
“It was a whirlwind romance. We hung out together for three days straight, sharing secrets and family stories and cheap pizza. That Friday night, we were both a little tipsy on red wine. I made a joke about flying to Vegas and getting married, and he just looked at me and said, ‘Let’s do it.’
“What?”
Anna nodded. “I know it sounds stupid, but I was caught up in the romance of it all. I had a couple flight vouchers a client had given me, and that seemed like a sign, too. My house is a ten-minute cab ride from the airport, and it takes less than two hours to fly from Portland to Las Vegas. Before I had a chance to blink, we were standing in a cheesy Elvis-themed chapel getting ready to walk down the aisle.”
Grant lifted a hand and brushed her hair off her forehead, his eyes soft as they held hers. “Did you go through with it?”
“No. Just as we got in line for the paperwork, he chickened out. Said he couldn’t marry me because he was already married.” She choked out a little laugh that ended up sounding more like a sob. “Already married. Can you believe it?”
Grant planted another kiss along her hairline. “Sounds like you dodged a bullet. Do you still love him?”
“No,” she said, tracing a finger over a thin stripe of satin on the edge of the sheet. “I didn’t love him to begin with. I barely remember his name. I was just wrapped up in the passion of it all, of the idea that fate had brought us together and the whole thing was meant to be. If it weren’t for the small detail of bigamy being illegal, I would have pledged eternal devotion to a guy I barely knew.”
He was quiet a minute, digesting the information. She looked down at the sheet covering her breasts, wondering what Grant must think of her.
“We all make mistakes, Anna,” he murmured, stroking his hand down her shoulder. “We all do stupid things we regret.”
Something in his voice made her meet his eyes again. There was a flash of guilt, a flicker of something that told her he knew plenty about regret.
She sighed. “I know, but don’t you see? I had a hand in wrecking my parents’ marriage. I pushed my sister to marry a guy who turned out to be an emotionally abusive philanderer. I couldn’t even tell when my own friend, Kelli, hired me to plan a fake wedding for her fake engagement. But this—” She waved a hand, hoping he understood she meant her own near miss marriage instead of anything that had transpired in this bedroom. “It’s inexcusable, Grant. It’s irrefutable proof that I lack the good judgment to ever make a permanent commitment to anyone.”
He was quiet a moment, and Anna took another breath. She wouldn’t blame him for thinking she was ridiculous. What sort of woman ran off to Vegas to marry a total stranger? A stranger who turned out to be married already. For crying out loud—
“Anna?”
“Yeah?”
“You’ve never told anyone that story before?”
She shook her head and looked back down at the sheet. “Never.”
“Why me?”
“I don’t know. I guess because we’d been talking about marriage. About our reasons for never wanting to do it. I felt like I owed you the full truth.”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
She met his eyes again. “You don’t think I’m an idiot?”
“On the contrary. I think you’re a beautiful, creative, intelligent woman with an amazing capacity for passion.”
She shook her head, not convinced. “But you see now why I don’t want to get married? Why that’s not something I can ever bring myself to do.”
“Hey, I’m the last guy in the world to try to talk you into marriage, but I can tell you this,” he said, sliding his palm down her rib cage to cup her hip. “You’re human. And you learn from your mistakes. That’s a pretty admirable thing.”
“But they’re pretty serious mistakes to make. And I’ve been so embarrassed about the stupid Vegas thing.”
“We don’t ever have to talk about it again,” he murmured, kissing the tip of her ear. “I’m just honored you told me.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re sure you don’t want to laugh at me just a little?”
“Not one bit.”
“But—”
“Shhh,” he said, planting a kiss on the tip of her nose. “You don’t owe me any more explanations. I don’t think less of you. I admire the hell out of your honesty.”
“Oh.” She blinked up at him, suddenly more exhausted than she’d ever been in her life. “I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open.”
“Those meds they gave you are pretty strong.”
She smiled. “Painkillers and amazing sex. A winning combination.”
“Go to sleep. I’ll call Janelle and tell her everything.” He squeezed her thigh beneath the sheet. “About you staying over, I mean. The rest of your secrets are safe with me.”
“Thank you.” Her eyelids were unbearably heavy, so she let them fall shut. She burrowed against him, feeling safer and warmer than she had in years. “It felt really good to get that off my chest.”
He was quiet beside her, and she thought maybe he was drifting off, too. When he spoke, his voice sounded far away.
“I can only imagine,” he murmured, pulling her tight against him.
…
Grant awoke at sunrise like he always did. He opened his eyes and looked at the clock the way he did every morning, confirming it was a little before six a.m. like it was every day when he popped awake with a lengthy to do list and a raging case of morning wood.
He rolled over and found his feet tangled with a smaller, softer pair, and it took him a momen
t to remember everything that had happened.
Not the typical morning. Not by a long shot.
Anna.
God. How the hell had he gotten in so deep? He’d seen the look in her eye the instant she shattered beneath him. He’d felt the crackle of electricity, the arc of connection he swore he’d never allow to happen. And he’d felt the bond cinch tighter the moment she confessed her secret.
Her story hadn’t bothered him a bit. If anything, it made him adore her more, made him admire her passion and her honesty.
That’s the scariest thought you could have.
Grant closed his eyes a moment, summoning the strength to leave. Then he rolled out of bed and made his way down the hall, pulling on a pair of gym shorts as he blinked in the half-light of early morning.
He set up the coffeemaker for her so all she had to do was press a button. He wrote a quick note about it, ending with a platitude about how he hoped she slept well and thanking her for last night.
He stared at the note for a moment, then anchored it on the counter beneath a coffee mug so she’d be sure to see it. Then he walked out beneath the plumeria tree in the front yard and plucked one of the fragrant blooms from a low branch. He brought it back inside and set it beside the note.
The perfect goddamn gentleman, he thought grimly.
Grant turned away and stuffed his feet into flip-flops. Then he headed out the door, making a beeline for the beach. He had his cell phone in a pouch strapped to his arm in case she woke up and needed anything.
Right now, he needed space.
He kicked the shoes off under a log and took off running along the shore, breathing evenly as the ocean air filled his lungs. He moved to the edge of the water where the sand was packed firmly with seawater. A pair of doves flitted across the sand in front of him, looking for specks of food. They scattered as Grant ran through, then reassembled a few feet up the beach.
Grant kept running, the scent of Anna still clinging to his skin. Christ, he probably should have showered or something. He could still smell her everywhere, still feel the softness of her touch on his skin. He tried closing his eyes, but all that did was make him dizzy as he conjured the image of her coppery hair spread across the pillow, those green eyes going wide with an emotion he couldn’t name.
