Page 84 of Untamed
Grayer’s eyes drift back to mine and their intensity is like a heat lamp inches from my skin. I do my best to pretend this is the way I’m going to fuck him later tonight. Giving him an idea of the way I desire him.
I’m panting when the song slows and I grind my hips into the saddle. Grayer’s glower never wavers. Never breaks.
Biting down on my bottom lip, I let my free hand move up my body, over my breasts and to my hair and then throw my head back, arching my back. I think about putting my finger in my mouth, but decide not to. Wouldn’t want to appear too desperate.
When the song ends, the crowd cheers and I’m not sure what to make of it. Grayer slams his hand down on the button and the machine comes to an abrupt halt. He gives that nod to the ones watching, a silent demand for them to leave.
And they do without question.
It’s clear he’s feared by many. Maybe they know him, maybe they don’t, but they certainly don’t question him.
He rights his position in the chair, sitting forward. When the basement’s empty, I motion to him with a finger, hoping he comes closer.
He shakes his head, standing, but denying me contact. When he knows everyone is gone, he gives the nod to the bartender in the room and he disappears too, without question. Makes me wonder if he’s done this before.
Like he’s some kind of godfather or mafia kingpin, he lurks in the shadows of the bar, making his way to the door. He locks it and then turns to face me, walking forward and teasing me by slowly unbuttoning his shirt. When he has it off, he lets it fall to the floor before me. Moving his hands to his buckle, he grins, a slow country boy smile. “You wanna do that part?”
At the memory of our night in the barn, I throw my head back laughing. “I could . . . if you need me to.”
He twists the words around. “I think you know I need you,” he says with a shadowy smile.
He said that, right? That wasn’t just my brain playing tricks on me, was it?
Overwhelmed by his mere presence, my heart pounds in my ears, my smile evident no matter how hard I try to mask it.
Grayer takes the final step toward the bull, his hands spread out. One behind me. One in front. I pat the space in front of me, motioning for him to get up there with me. He does and lifts me up so I’m straddling him. I ask, “Cowboy up?”
And he whispers, “Come find out.”
Oh yeah, cowboy up.
He leans forward, his mouth on the curve of my neck. Dragging his parted lips down, he runs them over my collarbone and to my shoulder as he removes my tank top. The strap of my bra falls, but he doesn’t take it off yet. Growling lightly, he bites at my shoulder. “Do you know how fucking sexy that was?”
I say nothing and that frustrates him because when Grayer Easton asks a question, I’m beginning to understand he expects you to answer him. His hands move from my hips to angle my face in his direction. “Do you?”
I nod, giving him what he wants, my answer. “I do.”
His hands wander, over my bare thighs and higher until they’re at my ribcage. I can tell he wants to go further and I do too.
“How far are you gonna let me take this inhere?” His hands run over my breasts and higher over my erratic, running wild heart.
“Whatever you want.” I mean it too. I’m ready and willing to give him anything and everything he wants from me.
He stops moving his hands suddenly, and then watches me, intently. “At some point there will be a bed involved. But not right now.”
And then he kisses me, humming when our tongues meet. When that’s too much that we can’t breathe without heavy gasping breaths, his mouth moves to my neck. He’s loving my skin with teeth nipping and his tongue moving. I have to sigh because they’re the most desperate sounds with each pass of his mouth over my skin, like it’s not enough for him. Like it willneverbe enough.
I’m right there with him. I need him in this bar, on this bull. My eyes travel over the length of his body, but more importantly, his chest and then his buckle.
Thatbuckle.
It’s been on my mind since he left me.
He knows what I’m thinking, the corners of his mouth twitch. “There are better things than my buckle, baby.”
I get his buckle undone as he leans back on his hands, allowing me access.
“Fuck. . . .” He groans when he leans forward to wrap his arms around me, wincing in pain, shifting his position as if he’s uncomfortable.
