“Say it, Sweet Peach… Finish your sentence. Not to mention what?” I’m desperate to hear what she was going to say.
Her eyes start to shine brightly as she inhales deeply. “You.” She exhales. “Not to mention you.”
I close my eyes and drop my forehead to hers, an unfamiliar sensation burning through me. Whatever it is, I know it has everything to do with Grace.
“Be assured, I just found you again. I’m not letting you go. If it means I put my ass on a plane to Oregon, Washington, New York—wherever the fuck you are—I’ll do it. So don’t doubt that for a second. You get this opportunity, we’ll make it work.”
“Nick—”
I shut her up with a kiss, sweeping my tongue over her lips and then slipping it into her mouth, going deep. She frees one hand and slides it up my chest to my neck and holds me in place, meeting me stroke for stroke until I’m forced to break away for air.
“Would you like to stay here tonight?” she asks breathlessly.
“Thought you’d never ask.” I nibble on her bottom lip. “I’d love to.”
She smiles against my lips and starts kissing me lazily, gliding her hand up my neck until she’s scraping her nails lightly against the stubble on my cheeks. At the same time, her leg starts to slide up, her knee wrapping around my waist. My dick grows painfully hard as soon as our hips are flush together.
Her thigh tightens, and I feel the point of her heel digging into the back of my leg. Images of her naked with nothing but those sexy fucking shoes flash through my mind, and I groan into her mouth. My cock starts to throb as I picture her thrashing under me as I fuck her until she’s screaming my name.
Desire starts to flame to the point of explosion, and I slip my fingertips up her thigh, under the material of her dress until I reach soft lace. Slowly, I trace the edges of the lace and slide my hand beneath it, feeling nothing but the silky smoothness of her skin.
I deepen the kiss as my hand gently explores her until I slide my fingers along her heat and circle her clit with my thumb. Keeping my thumb in place, one finger slides into her easily, her muscles contracting. She arches her back while at the same time letting out a whimper. It’s the sexiest fucking sound I’ve ever heard in my life, and my stomach coils as my dick starts to twitch.
Please, God, don’t let me fucking blow my load like a teenage boy. I pray silently but don’t dare stop my movements, adding another finger and thrusting them slowly as her breathing starts to pick up. She bucks her hips into my hand twice, tearing her mouth away from mine and throwing her head back, panting. My lips trail up the curve of her neck and around her jawline until reaching her earlobe.
“You feel so fucking good, Grace. I want to see you come for me.” My thumb presses into her clit once more as I scissor my fingers. Her body tightens, and in a split second, she cries out, my name on her lips escaping in a strangled murmur.
The heat of her pussy gripping my fingers, the feel of her slickness against my hand, and the sound of my name is too much. My balls tighten, and warm liquid starts to slide down my dick. I press harder into her side to try to stop the eruption at the pit of my stomach.
I still, taking deep breaths, and lift up, my eyes locking with hers. She gives me a shy smile, her cheeks flushed and her lips slightly swollen. Her eyes are glossy and a deeper violet than I’ve ever seen. At this moment, she’s more breathtaking than ever.
“Fucking perfect.”
“Nick,” she breathes out, her voice raspy.
I reluctantly remove my hand and use my knee to push myself up, bringing her with me until I’m sitting and she’s straddling my lap. My hands wrap around the back of her head, fingers flexing in her hair. She leans into the touch, her eyes fluttering closed.
I stare at her for a few seconds, caressing her scalp and taking the time to regain my control. As much as I want her, tonight is not the night. There’s something I want to do first, and unfortunately, that requires a little more time.
I kiss the underside of her jaw then squeeze her tightly, taking both our weight as I stand. When I get to the door of her bedroom, I gently place her on her feet and frame her face.
“I’m going to get my bag out of my truck and lock up, but I’ll be back in a few minutes. Get ready and I’ll meet you in bed.
Her eyes crinkle in confusion.
“Trust me on this. There’s nothing more I want to do right now than to tear this dress off you, throw you on the bed, and run my tongue over every inch of your skin. My whole body is on fucking fire for you. I’ve never wanted anything as badly in my life as I do right now.” I tilt my hips, hitting her stomach and flexing my still hard cock into her. “Feel what you do to me? This is all you, Grace, but I’m using every ounce of restraint to wait.”
“Why?” Her voice is small and laced with doubt. Disappointment shows on her face.
Any other time, with any other woman, I’d have them under me in less than two minutes, not really caring about more than a few hours of fun. But not with Grace. This is so much more. I knew that the second I saw her again.
“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s wrong.”
“But if you want me, why are you holding back?” It’s obvious the question makes her uncomfortable, and I think about what an ass I’m making out of myself.
“Because you mean something to me.”
“Isn’t that good? You mean something to me, too.”
“That didn’t come out right. You mean more than something to me. This is where the trust me part comes in.”
The words hang in the air, and I hold my breath, watching her process them. Finally, she stretches up and brushes her lips across mine.
“I trust you, Nick.” There’s a flash of sincerity that quickly turns into a wicked gleam. One of her hands moves between us and scales down my abs, stopping at my belt, where I’m still bulging in my pants. Her fingers draw a large circle around my groin, purposely pressing against my head. The touch is light but still one of the most erotic things I’ve ever felt. My stomach rolls, the familiar need for release from earlier returning. I clutch her hand and bring it to my mouth, kissing her fingertips.
“Sweet Peach, get ready for bed.”
I back away and adjust myself as I go to my truck. A memory from last year pops into my head. I’m finally beginning to see exactly what Shaw was trying to explain to me.
I’m never going to survive. Or, should I say, my poor dick is never going to survive. It twitches against my stomach, aching as Grace unknowingly grinds her hip into my groin. She’s sprawled halfway across my body, her hair covering my shoulder, her arm across my chest, and her warm breath coating the skin on my throat.
The slickness of her nightgown continues to torment me, just as it’s done all night. Knowing the material is the only thing separating me from the silky smoothness of her skin against mine is its own form of torture. I’m a man who can appreciate the allure of a woman’s lingerie—the silk, the satin, the lace… the way it hugs curves and teases a man to the edge.
But Grace Monroe in this nightgown has the ability to drive me to the brink of madness.
I try to think about dirty, sweaty, nasty men filing into the locker room and the stench after a brutal day of practice. Anything to mask the desire searing through my body. It starts to work, until Grace hitches her knee and it grazes my balls. The ache increases.
I should scoot out from under her, go to the bathroom, and take care of this once and for all. Jerking off to the thought of her in bed begins to sound better and better. I fondly remember the way my name sounded coming from her mouth as I watched her come undone for me. Then the mess I faced when I got ready for bed.
As I feared, I may have escaped a full explosion, but the sight and feel of her were too much. It was a first for me, coming in my pants. I cringe at the thought, but my dick comes completely alive, twitching over and over.
Yep, I’m going to the bathroom now. It’s the only way.
I slide one leg to the ground an
d try to dislodge her body without waking her. She mutters something in her sleep, and her arms fall down, her hand resting on my lower stomach. A hiss slips through my lips, and I go still.
Her heartbeat quickens against my ribcage, and I know she’s waking up.
“Morning.” I kiss a few times along her hairline.
“Good morning. What time is it?” Her voice is full of sleep and comes out hoarse.
“Not sure, but I think it’s still pretty early.”
She sighs, nuzzling deeper into my chest. “One week could equal one month, one year, one decade…” she mumbles.
“What’s that?”
“Hmmm, something Bizzy told me yesterday is beginning to make sense.”
“Babe, are you still asleep? You’ve lost me.”
She raises her head and scoots back enough for me to get a good look at her face. I’m momentarily frozen at the sight. I’ve gotten used to being stunned by her beauty, but this is different. No words come to mind as I stare at her and decide I want to wake up to this every morning.
“Didn’t you know? I thought she’d have told you.”
“Who?”
“Bizzy, she came to visit me yesterday.”
My heart starts racing, and I’m torn between aggravated and relieved. “Did she now?” I ask, trying to hide any reaction.
“Yes, is that okay?”
“Depends… I guess I’m not surprised. I should have guessed she wouldn’t stay away and wait until Sunday to reacquaint herself. Seeing as you’re in my arms the next morning, she didn’t chase you away, so I’d say, so far so good.”
“She loves you.”
“She does, and I love her.”
“She’s a special person. I can see why you’re so close.”
The hair on the back of my neck starts to prickle. This could go either way. I know Bizzy would never be ugly to Grace, but I also know how far her protective streak reaches.
“Want to tell me what she said?”
Grace gives me a rundown of their visit, but nothing seems out of the ordinary.
“So what’s this one week could equal one month stuff all about?”
Her face starts to get splotchy, and my curiosity grows.
“Grace?” My hand tightens on her hip.
“Actually, it was Claire who used that phrase. She was trying to make a point, saying that time doesn’t seem to matter to the Bennett brothers.”
At the mention of Claire, I start to get anxious. “Claire was there, too?”
Grace nods. “She was, and I really like her. She’s actually very funny.”
I relax because this is true, but Claire can be a little saucy and a lot mouthy. There’s no telling what she will say.
“She is. Claire is a great person. She’s a bit crazy, but we all love her.”
“I’m glad they came by. I mean, at first, it was weird, but it broke the ice before the game tomorrow. It’s nice to know I’ll be walking into friendly faces.”
I knew she would be nervous about meeting the crew tomorrow, but I didn’t think about exactly how intimidating it could be. I make a mental note to do something nice for Bizzy and Claire.
My phone starts to ring, and I reach to the ground, fumbling for where I dropped it last night. My new ringtone for Shaw fills the room, and Grace starts to giggle.
“You better have a fucking good ass reason to call me this early on a Saturday morning,” I tell him, scooting up to a semi-sitting position. Grace tries to back away, but I hold firm, bringing her closer to me.
“Yeah, lover boy. How about, your ass is plastered all over the internet in a lip-lock with a certain brunette, identified as Grace Monroe.”
“Damn, that was fast.”
“Are you surprised? Want me to read some of the headlines?”
“Is it necessary?”
“Not really, pretty standard stuff. But when I say plastered, I mean it. People, TMZ, US Weekly to mention a few. Even ‘Shannon Says’ has a small piece.”
“Yeah, we need to talk about her. She was at the gallery last night. She’s going to dig. I insulted her when I explained to Grace she ran a blog. You’d have thought I called her a bottom-feeder.”
“She is, in a way.”
“Maybe, but I wouldn’t call her that to her face. I have some manners.”
He starts to chuckle at the same time Grace giggles. I forgot she could hear our conversation.
“Well, thanks for using restraint. Do you want us to make any type of comment?” he asks.
“Nope, I introduced Grace as my girlfriend. That’s self-explanatory.”
“Perfect. That would be my stance, too, but I wanted to give you the option. You need to be prepared, though. The notifications started at dawn. You and Grace are high news today and probably will be until something more interesting comes along.”
“How pissed is Gail?” I ask from experience, knowing she was the one who received the first notification on the wires this morning.
“She’s fine.” His voice breaks, the reception going fuzzy. Bizzy’s voice is muffled on the line, and I start to feel uneasy.
“Shaw… what aren’t you saying?”
He doesn’t try to hide his amusement. “Let’s just say you aren’t the highlight of this story. Your girlfriend is getting quite the response.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Grace scrambles away and grabs her iPad, flipping it open and typing. I wait for Shaw to answer, watching her at the same time.
My stomach drops when her hand flies to her mouth and she shouts, “Oh my God!”
“Talk to you later, Sexy.” He disconnects, and I lean across the bed.
The instant my eyes land on the two pictures side-by-side, possession and jealousy burn in my blood. Grace is a goddess. There’s no other way to describe her. She’s pressed close to my front, one hand threaded through her hair, as I kissed her. Her legs, her hair, the dress… she’s a walking Sex Siren.
“We look like we’re making out in public!” she screeches.
“That’s the least of my worries. You have attracted half of the male population in Miami with these shots. Hell, probably more than that considering these are everywhere.”
She pounds on the screen, pointing at our kiss. “Do you see this?”
Apparently, she’s not worried about my statement. “Yeah, I see it. Did you hear me? I’m going to have to fight off—”
“NICK, get serious! I’ve never been associated with A-listers before. I didn’t know anyone caught us kissing.” Her voice goes to a high pitch, and I fight back the laughter. She leers at me and narrows her eyes. “This is not funny!”
I take the iPad from her and toss it to the end of the bed, then I tug her close, trapping her under me. “It wasn’t funny at first glimpse when I realized you are now going to be dubbed a sex symbol with those fucking legs in that dress, but watching you freak out about a kiss makes it comical. I’m glad they have a shot of you in my arms. Maybe it will keep some of the vultures away.”
“Nick!” Her screech becomes muffled when I bury my head in her neck, kissing a trail to her collarbone.
“Hmm?” I mumble.
“Are you taking me seriously?”
“Not especially. I have other things on my mind.”
“Should we talk about this?”
“Nope, we should stop talking and go back to how I should have started the morning. Kiss me.” I balance on an elbow and cup her chin. “Forget about everything but this.” I skim my lips over hers. “Forget the phone calls, the press, the pictures… I want you to remember nothing but waking up in my arms.”
Our eyes meet, and I watch whatever she was thinking start to melt away. “How do you do that?”
“What?”
“I don’t know how to explain it, but somehow, you calm me. My mind was racing, thinking about those pictures and being the object of hordes of gossip, but when you looked at me like that, it disappeared.”
There’s so much I want to sa
y, but my head screams that it’s too much too soon. So instead, I grin and kiss the tip of her nose. “It’s part of my charm?”
“Don’t get cocky.”
“I’m not cocky. I’m needy, and right now, I need a kiss from my hot as shit girlfriend who is far too sexy for her own good. We have about three minutes before both our phones start blowing up with this, and I’d like to spend that three minutes kissing you.”
Her face relaxes, and a small smile forms. “Well, when you put it that way—”
I don’t let her finish before I lower my mouth and slide my tongue between her lips. She doesn’t put up a fight, welcoming me and following my lead.
Less than two minutes later, our phones start ringing, but neither of us moves to answer them.
Chapter 13
Grace
“MAMA! You have to quit calling,” I hiss into the phone and search for somewhere to hide. I duck behind a large tree in the corner and shift my overnight bag that is digging painfully into my shoulder.
“This is the last time. I promise,” she lies. I know from experience, Sharon Monroe is keeping a list, and every time a new question pops into her head, she writes it down and calls, wanting instant answers.
“What do you need now?”
“Why are you whispering?”
“Because I am in a hallway and I don’t want Nick to hear me.”
“Ohh, is it fancy?” She couldn’t care less of my situation.
“Yes, Mom. He lives on the twentieth floor of a luxury high-rise. It’s very fancy. Now, can I go? I promise to call you tomorrow before the game.”
“I only need a minute.”
“Mom, I don’t think you understand. I’m hiding behind a decorative palm tree, slinked up to a wall. If someone walks out, they will think I’m a stalker. Can I PLEASE call you tomorrow?”
“It’s not every day that a mother finds out her only daughter is dating a famous football player. I’m still upset I had to learn this from the internet. So no, you can give me a minute of your time.”
Guilt… I’m convinced my mom has mastered the art of guilt. It’s not so much her words but how she uses them—a touch of hurt, a dash of accusation, and the wounded tone that works every time. Even Logan crumbles when Mom pulls out the guilt card.
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