Page 46 of His Build
Graydon leaned in to kiss her again and she pressed herself against him, as much to feel him there as to keep herself steady. His hand went to the back of her head, grasping her hair and tipping her face back as his tongue explored her lips. She remembered the way the last time they were together his tongue had flicked at her nipples and her clit and a new warmth spread at the already fiery heat of her center.
He looked in her eyes as the fingers of his other hand grazed the bare skin of her belly under her t-shirt. A jolt went through her as he flicked the button of her shorts open and slid his hand down along her skin, through the mound of her short curls. His fingers slipped down to the warmth between her legs and she gasped again as his fingers slid into her wetness then out again, his thumb making soft circles on her clit until she felt herself on the brink of ecstasy within seconds.
She whimpered. “Gray, I’m going to—” then he amped up the speed of his fingers until she came so hard he had to catch her from falling with his other arm.
“Holy shit,” she called, reaching up and gripping his t-shirt. Flashes of light burst around her, and when she came back to where they were standing, he was grinning at her in a way that made her chest tight, as if in an aftershock.
“I love the way you come,” he whispered, his voice hoarse in her ear. “I love everything about y— about this.”
“Jesus, Graydon,” she said, her breath still hitching.
He slipped his hand out of her shorts. “I’m sorry. I didn’t plan on doing that, I just…”
“You’re sorry?” she said.
“Only a little,” he laughed. Then he shifted.
“You okay? Do you want—”
“I’m good. I just need to think about baseball. Fishing.”
The warmth surging from between her legs reflected in the warmth she felt just looking at him and how happy he was. He grinned only a little painfully as he readjusted his jeans again.
She buttoned her shorts, laughing. “Think about paperwork.”
“Perfect.”
His selflessness in pleasuring her and not requiring anything in return made that warmth spread dangerously further.
“I want to see your place,” she said, needing to shift herself from him and what had just happened. It wasn’t a lie, either. She really was curious about checking out his gorgeous cabin.
“That’s what I brought you here for… that and just to be with you,” he said.
The honesty in his statement made a kind of fear burn along the edge of her, cooling the warmth. It was what she wanted too. To just be with him.And the thought scared the shit out of her.
Graydon’s eyebrows slanted. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said, forcing herself to brighten. “Totally fine. Better than fine. I feel amazing.” She grinned at him. That part wasn’t a lie—the physical part, anyway. Her whole body was still buzzing from the crazy-intense orgasm he’d just given her. It had only taken seconds, but somehow he’d known exactly the thing to do that her body would respond to.
“Well, you going to show me around or what?” she asked. Then without waiting for him to respond, she walked up the dock towards his place.
* * *
Graydon’s red-plankedcabin looked like something out of a magazine.Cottage Life. Or a “Lakeside Retreats” coffee-table book.
“You didn’t grow up in this place, did you?” Lucy asked as she took in the pointed eaves and rustic porch.
“No—our house was on the other side of town. It was left to me and Casey after we turned eighteen but… we sold it.”
Of course he couldn’t wait to get away from his family home, filled with its devastating memories.
Graydon led her alongside the porch towards the front entrance. The sweeping deck she’d seen from the water on the other side of the house was obviously a newer addition—from this side, the cabin looked several decades older. It was in beautifully restored shape though—shiny red paint with white trim; a gleaming white porch with a swing that she could picture herself settling into with a glass of wine at sunset. Or hot cocoa in the fall, wrapped in a blanket and Graydon’s arms…
“It was a homesteader’s cabin,” he said as he jogged up the steps to the porch. She followed, looking quickly from the swing as if he might know she was projecting them on there in some kind of long range, couple capacity.
“Before I bought it, it was a summer home for a family up in Rochester,” Graydon continued. “In the family for decades. I’ve been fixing it up bit by bit over the last fifteen years since they handed over the keys.”
“You’ve done an incredible job,” she said as she stepped through the threshold. Of course he had; he was a professional. Even from this place she saw he’d installed all the comforts: modern heating and concealed lighting, but maintained the original character: wooden frames on said windows; full baseboard trim.
