My breath stutters when he presses closer, lips grazing the back of my neck. “You okay?” he murmurs, low and rough, like gravel soaked in honey.
I nod, too far gone for words.
The pressure builds slowly, every movement of his hand driving me closer to something I’ve been craving since the moment he first looked at me like I wasn’t a passing tourist. Like I was something to stay for.
His fingers move with maddening precision, and I moan, soft and sharp, as the edge creeps closer. There’s nothing in the world but his touch and my need and the sound of his name on my lips.
“Let go for me, baby,” he says against my skin. “I’ve got you.”
And I do.
The world tilts. My muscles seize and I release, a cry tearing from my throat as everything shatters and melts, leaving me boneless and burning in his arms. He holds me through it, whispering things I can’t even process yet, his lips brushing my shoulder like a promise.
Before I fully recover from the high, his hands are everywhere—steadying, claiming—his touch firm against my hips as he positions himself at my entrance. The thick head ofhim nudges against me and I gasp, becauseGod, I forgot how big he is.
No—I didn’t forget. I just didn’t let myself remember what this stretch feels like. Because if I dared to replay the feeling of him inside me, I’ll never have enough of him and I’ll never let him go, when I should.
He pauses, eyes locking with mine, and it hits me—this man, this wild, golden, maddening cowboy—is being so careful with me right now. Like I’m something he’s scared to break.
“Easy,” he murmurs, voice low and wrecked. “We’ll take it slow, baby.”
I nod, biting my lip. My breath stutters in my chest as he pushes in—slow, deliberate, thick. A ragged breath leaves my mouth as my body stretches around him, and it’sa lot, but I don’t want him to stop. I wantallof him.
“I’ve got you,” he breathes, watching me like I’m sacred. “Just breathe baby. Let me in.”
I exhale, forcing my muscles to relax, gripping the edge of the desk like it might save me. He eases in deeper, inch by glorious inch, and I feel everything—everypart of him.
“Grant…” His name rips from my throat on a ragged gasp.
He stills, buried halfway, panting against my neck. “You’re so tight, Mia. So fucking perfect.”
“I want it all. I wantyou.”
He groans, forehead pressed to the back of my shoulder, and moves again, deeper this time. My walls clench around him, not out of resistance, but desperation—like my body’s trying to memorize him from the inside out.
Seeing him like this—holding backfor me—drives me absolutely crazy. I have to clench my thighs from falling apart before he’s even all the way in.
“Mia,” he growls.
“Oh my God Grant,” I moan, as my breath catches in my throat with every slow thrust forward.
“You know what I wanted to do to you that night at the bar?” He whispers, dragging his thumb along my jaw, down my throat, never stopping the rhythm of thrusting into me.
I shudder beneath him, my hips rolling forward like my body already knows.
“This. Exactly this. Your legs open, your breath catching every time I move. Me buried so deep you forget your own name, but not mine. Never mine.”
My nails dig into desk and I fear for a mindless second that his work place will never be the same again.
My head falls forward, and he presses kisses along my neck the damp skin there, hips rolling in a slow, steady rhythm.
“Grant, I’m too full…You’re…. I can’t…It’s too much.”
His jaw tightens, the last bit of control fraying as he sink deeper into my hot heat. He pauses just a breath from being fully seated, chest heaving as he meets my wild gaze.
“No, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and rough as gravel, one hand sliding between us to thumb over my clit in slow, teasing circles.
“It’s just right. You can take all of me… and you’re doin’ so damn good,” He murmurs, hips barely moving as he gives me time to adjust, holding me steady in his arms.
