“You didn’t have to get me a gift, you know.”
“Well, I couldn’t find a congratulations-on-your-first-apartment-after-prison card,” she said with a smile.
His hearty laugh dispelled the tension. Grant felt full of gratitude. All he wanted to do was to be with her—hold her in his arms and ply her with kisses.
He set one knee on the bed and swiftly crawled across the mattress. Kneeling on the bed with bare feet, he met her eye-level.
His presence mere inches from her, the strength of his body next to hers, the warmth in his eyes, the curve of his lips, his laugh—it all flooded her senses. Placing her hands on his shoulders to ground herself, Sophie leaned into him.
Clutching her slender hips, he drew her into in a yearning, sensuous kiss. Her knees pressed against the bed and her hands slid down his back, massaging and kneading his taut muscles. As their kiss deepened, they intuitively moved together: Grant pulling her forward and Sophie following his lead up onto the bed, both kneeling on the mattress now while their hands groped each other hungrily.
Grant pried his lips from hers only to nuzzle his mouth near her ear, planting feathery kisses down the curve of her neck until his moist lips landed on her bare shoulder, rosy and freckled from the afternoon sun. His mouth continued its journey, languishing along her collarbone and sliding up along her neck, causing her to tilt her chin and revel in the sensation of him devouring her. Sophie closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure as his mouth grazed over her skin, heating her with his warm breath.
When he slid the spaghetti strap of her light-blue camisole down her shoulder, Sophie began to unbutton his lightweight madras shirt. She simply had to get it off of his body. Their undressing had a driving, frantic quality, and each eventually realized it was faster to remove their own shirt. Sophie crossed her arms over her waist and lifted her top over her head while Grant shrugged out of his now unbuttoned short-sleeve shirt.
Only when they faced each other, their shirts carelessly tossed to the beige carpet beside the bed, did they pause. Eyeing Sophie’s lacy strapless bra, Grant cleared his throat.
“You’re so beautiful, Sophie …” His voice trailed off, but he forced himself to begin again. “It’s, um, it’s been a dry spell for me. I’ve been locked away in a men’s prison for more than two years.”
Sophie nodded. She was a little rusty herself. She brushed her fingertips across his solid pectoral muscles, which she’d been craving to do ever since the night drunken McSailor had crashed at Kirsten’s apartment. Playfully stroking his chest, she asked, “So, your sentence was four years?”
Grant inhaled deeply, distracted by her soft caress, before he refocused and shook his head. “Three.”
She gazed up at him, puzzled. “But with good behavior, you’d be out in about half of your sentence, wouldn’t you? Eighteen months?”
“With good behavior?” he repeated distractedly, buying himself some time. Unconsciously curling his fingers, his right hand tingled with the memory of careening into another prisoner’s jaw. The ensuing image of a small, dark solitary cell jammed itself into his consciousness, and he found himself having trouble getting air. He panicked, thinking she would intuitively know about his psychotic breakdown in the hole.
Misreading his anxious expression, a coquettish smirk played on Sophie’s pink lips. “Maybe your behavior wasn’t so good? Maybe you were …” She dropped her voice huskily. “Very bad?”
All images of Gurnee were gone in a flash. “Bad?” Grant asked. He brazenly lifted one hand to cup her breast, his smooth voice matching the silky softness of her bra. “I feel very bad behavior coming on. What do you think about that?”
“I think I can handle it.” She sat back on her heels and locked eyes with him as she unclasped her bra. Allowing the lingerie to fall softly from her small breasts, she tossed the bra to the floor, where it joined the outer garments in a heap.
Suddenly seized by nervousness, one hand unconsciously flitted up to cover herself. “I’m, um, I’m kind of flat. Sorry.”
He looked almost wounded. “You’re exquisite,” he countered, drawing her back up to kneeling. Her nipples grazed his chest, driving him crazy with anticipation. He smoothed one hand over her hair, and she released the band holding her ponytail. Thick reddish-golden hair brushed over her shoulders and curled near her breasts. Her coppery eyes scorched him.
Grant plunged forward to ravage her mouth with kisses while his hands explored her firm breasts—cupping, caressing, and stimulating her hardening flesh. “You see, they fit in my hands perfectly.” Gasping for air at the touch of his long, supple fingers, she skimmed her fingertips down his ribcage and along the hard lines of his hips.
“I like Bad Grant,” she murmured between kisses. Her slender fingers skated on his waistband and began unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans.
“Ladies first,” he urgently whispered back, dropping his hands and racing to remove her white pants. Grant whipped them down her lean thighs before she’d even pulled his jeans over his rear end. Although to be fair, he cheated by gyrating his hips and preventing her from getting a firm grasp on his jeans. His evasive maneuvers made her giggle.
Next, Grant problem-solved by playfully pushing her backward on the bed to finish removing her pants. Sophie’s head landed on a pillow as she willingly fell onto the sheets, circling her calves around to extend in front of her. Soon her creamy, lithe legs were fully exposed.
Grant paused at the vision of her smooth, milky skin adorned only with silky white panties. Her long, lean body lay before him in all its glory, beckoning. She grinned at the sight of his jeans hanging jauntily off his hips, the waistband of his navy-blue boxers easily visible. “Take off those jeans, McSailor,” she ordered.
He raised one eyebrow. “McSailor?”
“Oh!” she erupted in giggles once again. “Didn’t I mention the nickname Kirsten gave you?”
Narrowing his eyes, his voice sounded suspicious as he asked, “Exactly what happened the night I passed out in her apartment?”
“Maybe I’ll tell you about it after you take off those pants.”
He considered her offer and quickly peeled off his jeans. Crawling up the bed, he sidled in next to her and leaned on his elbow as they lay side by side. His right hand grazed the skin inside her right knee, then his fingertips brushed up the length of her thigh. With each advancing inch, she breathed in a little more, her chest rising and expanding with each inhalation until she was almost hyperventilating.
Her skin tingling, Sophie’s mood turned serious. Grant could read the want and need in her brown eyes. Both felt a catch in their throats as the air became thin. Grant’s hand rested lightly on her stomach, his tantalizing fingertips teasing her with a promised advancement and breach into her territory. His military training would not go to waste tonight.
Both knew exactly what they wanted, but taking this opportunity to practice direct communication once again, Sophie planted a warm kiss on Grant’s awaiting lips before sliding off her panties in one fluid motion.
Grant’s grateful face hovered over hers, and he whispered, “Let’s christen these sheets, shall we?”
She nodded and his lips crashed onto hers again, his hand moving to cradle her face as they kissed passionately. His hand stroked her long, silky hair, then slowly traveled south, pausing at her breasts to caress and massage her nipples, then snaking down the center groove of her flat abdomen.
Enraptured by his kisses, Sophie felt weightless and floating, utterly aroused and craving his attention to her body. But when his nimble fingers finally made their way to her receptive core, she entered a new level of ecstasy. Those long, artistic fingers that seemed so out of place on his muscular, military body; those fingers that were nonetheless perfect for Grant since they fit his gentle, intelligent nature; those fingers that adeptly repaired any piece of equipment on the ship; those fingers that fidgeted when he was nervous—those fingers now fired up a heat inside her so intense and so deep
that she let out a guttural moan.
He expertly rubbed and circled her clitoris, and Sophie could not stifle her explicit sounds of pleasure with each rapid exhalation. Was he going to bring her to orgasm already? She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, providing Grant with a burst of satisfaction and confidence as he read her look of pleasure and arousal at his hand.
As her pelvic muscles contracted around his fingers, Sophie felt heat spread into her abdomen and radiate throughout her body. She shuddered and a look somewhere between bliss and alarm crossed her flushed face as she realized he was undoing her, leaving her with little self-control. She simultaneously wanted to beg him to continue and plead with him to stop, lest she cry out like an animal from his astonishing touch.
McSailor’s fingers were miraculous and marvelous! Suddenly an image appeared in her mind, like a marquee flashing in her eyes:
FOR A LIMITED TIME ONLY... MCSAILOR’S MAGIC FINGERS!
A bright smile formed on her lips, and she somehow regained enough focus to gaze into those crystal-blue eyes.
“Something funny?” he asked, resting his hand on her inner thigh.
Her response was breathy and low. “You’re very skilled, McSailor.”
With a sudden move, she rolled onto her side and maintained eye contact while she entangled her legs with his, something he had desired since the morning he woke up in Kirsten’s apartment and watched her beautiful body at rest. He sensed her weight leaning into him, causing a pressure to well forcefully inside his boxer shorts. As her delicate lips met his, he gave in and was soon lying on his back, defenseless.
Unlocking their lips, her hands traced the contours of his abdominal muscles. She glanced at the growing bulge in his boxer shorts and grinned, pleased that she was arousing him too. Sliding her finger beneath his waistband, she peered up at him with a wicked smile. “What do we have here?” she inquired, lifting the waistband as if she were planning to peek inside his shorts.
Instead, she yanked down his boxers, exposing his erection to the light, to breathe and grow. “Oh my,” she cooed appreciatively, tossing the boxers toward the expanding heap of clothing on the floor. “Looks like we have our very own Spire right here!”
He gave a low, sexy laugh, slowly shaking his head. “You are crazy, Soph—”
A gasp prevented him from finishing his sentence. Her soft hands firmly stroked and stimulated him as he became harder and harder. Her expert touch slid down the length of his shaft and caressed the tip, which made him clutch at the fitted sheet and nearly buck off of the bed. Where had she learned how to incite such arousal in a man, leaving him vulnerable and helpless? Grant didn’t know and he didn’t care. He just wanted her to keep going.
Feeling a rising force below his belly, he panted for air and instructed, “My jeans … the pocket … Sophie!”
She pushed off him and contorted her body across the bed, stretching for his jeans and rummaging through his back pockets until her hand discovered the desired item. Crawling back toward him, she held the packaged condom up for his inspection, eyes questioning.
Grant swallowed. “There was a drugstore next to the ATM.”
“Wishful thinking, Madsen?”
He shrugged. “Hey, you’re the one who bought the sheets.”
Tracing the condom across his thigh, she inquired suspiciously, “So, you don’t carry these around with you for a quickie with a cruise passenger?”
He smiled and reached for her, drawing her body on top of his. “I much prefer the cruise staff,” he informed her. “Particularly the hot waitress.”
They resumed their kissing, and Sophie felt his erection pushing against her lower abdomen. Drenched in excitement and desire, and sensing it was time, she helped him slide the condom onto his throbbing penis. They could not move fast enough. Grasping his wiry biceps, Sophie gazed down at him with yearning.
Craving to be inside her, to be joined with this amazing woman, Grant eased himself into her wetness, and they both exhaled to finally be as one.
Sophie inhaled sharply as he cupped her bottom with both hands and pressed her toward him. With each thrust deep inside her, she felt a shuddering sensation that intensified and spread throughout her body. Her sighs and moans were swallowed by Grant as they continued their sweet kisses. He provided the perfect mix of ravishing and respect during their lovemaking, and a rhythmic tightening overtook her as the Grant tsunami crashed over her, wave after wave, making her call out in rapture.
He too felt rapid contractions below and an upsurge building while his fingers raked up and down her slender back. Trembling, he experienced a crescendo of pressure, thrusting and plunging into her, rising and building, mounting, peaking, soaring, until finally he reached a sky-scraping climax and his body sank back into the mattress, spent. Utter euphoria enveloped them as they clung together, their breathing gradually slowing to match each other breath for breath.
They lay with a sheen of sweat covering their reddened skin. As Grant had imagined earlier, their bodies fit together perfectly. Her cheek rested just below his chin, and her luxurious hair tousled across his chest. Her long legs encircled his, ensnaring her prey. They melded together like lock and key. Only they were no longer locked away—they were free.
As he gently stroked his hand through her strawberry locks, he murmured, “Can you spend the night?”
“Sure,” she said, and he felt her smile against his chest. “I hope Kirsten won’t worry. I can’t call her since you don’t have a phone hooked up yet.”
Continuing to pet her soft hair, he observed, “I bet we are the only two people on earth who don’t own cell phones.”
“Maybe one day, Parolee Madsen,” she teased. “Soon we’ll both be grown-up enough to own phones.” Lifting her head and staring into his half-lidded eyes, she asked, “Will you text me? When we get phones?”
“Of course,” he responded. “As long as you’ll text me back.”
“Deal,” she nodded. “Um, Grant, if I’m going to stay tonight, do you mind if I take a shower?”
“Jeez,” he muttered with feigned disgust. “You buy me sheets and towels and now you think you own the place.”
She chuckled and bit her lip. “Are you saying that as the owner of this apartment, the only way you’ll let me use your shower is if you take one with me?”
His eyes widened and he thought for a moment. “Yesss,” he said, nodding, a grin lighting up his face. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“I thought so.” Her smile matching his, she propped herself up and stepped out of bed, extending her hand to him.
Taking her hand in his, he allowed himself to be led into the bathroom.
She kept her eyes glued on his lower body. He cleared his throat. “Do you see something you like, Taylor? Feeling inspired?”
Expecting a nervous laugh since he’d caught her staring, he was surprised when she confidently held his gaze.
“I was thinking about our earlier conversation at the ballpark,” she said in a sultry voice. “I wonder, do you think I can fit that whole thing into my mouth?”
He had never moved so quickly toward a shower in his life.
22. Naked
Naked, they snuggled together front to back, wrapped between the sheets, clean and content. Grant’s cheek nestled over Sophie’s left shoulder and brushed against her long hair, still damp from the shower. He had curved himself around her body with his knees tucked in behind hers and his left arm folded over her. It was not possible to get much closer. They had no need for a blanket as their colliding skin and the summer evening provided more than enough heat. With a satiated sigh, Grant felt his eyelids droop.
Sophie did not feel so at ease. Although spooning with McSailor was precisely the blissful experience she had imagined, her mind would not stop processing an image that had caught her eye in the bathroom. In the act of soaping each other’s bodies under the pulsating shower, Sophie had seen an angry scar on Grant’s lower back. Slightly below his wa
ist on his right side—a line of raised skin, pink and jagged. She figured he would tell her about the scar one day. She really wanted to respect his privacy by letting it go. But her analytical, inquisitive brain would not allow it.
Her faltering voice sliced through the darkness. “Grant?”
“Hmm?”
He sounded so tired. She bit her lower lip, wondering if she should proceed.
“It’s nothing.”
There was silence, but then his piqued curiosity got the best of him. “What is it, Sophie?”
She took a deep breath, deciding to go for it. “I don’t want to be nosey, but … um, how did you get that scar on your back?”
She felt his body bristle immediately and just as quickly regretted her question. “Forget it,” she backpedaled. “I—I, um … I shouldn’t have asked you.”
He felt his face redden as he remembered the sting of the belt on his four-year-old body, snapping and cutting into him frighteningly. But the sting was nothing compared to the words spat out by the drunk, black-haired man. You peed in your pants, you fucking baby! Do you need a diaper? Sarcasm had dripped from the towering tormentor’s mouth. Karita, get the boy a diaper!
Grant blinked several times as he refocused on the bedroom, dimly illuminated by city lights, and realized he had been holding his breath. The scar was where his father’s belt had always found his backside, and though the other welts had faded, that mark stayed. His father had branded him.
Sophie felt Grant exhale slowly, and she waited for him to speak. His voice warbled with emotion when he told her, “It’s okay. You can ask me anything. Our stupid pact is shot to hell by now, anyway.”
Sophie smiled in the darkness.
He attempted to sound nonchalant as he explained. “It happened during military exercises. We, ah, we were doing maneuvers in the Atlantic, and I was, uh, running to deliver coordinates to the radio operator, when I—I slipped and crashed into a pump handle. It had a sharp edge that cut me.” Producing a fake little chuckle, he added, “The lieutenant sure was pissed off at me for getting blood everywhere in the passageway.”
With Good Behavior [Conduct Series #1] Page 21
