“Give it to me, baby. Let me taste how you lose control” I lose it. All of it.
I grip the edge of the bench, head thrown back, and fall straight into the kind of pleasure that leaves me breathless, my legs shaking so much Grant needs to hold me steady.
And when I look down, he looks up at me like I’m his entire goddamn world.
Still on his knees in front of me, his breath hot against the inside of my thigh, and my whole body feels like it’s vibrating—like I’ve been rewired from the inside out.
When he lifts his head, those stormy eyes lock with mine, and it’s not just lust I see there. It’s worship. It’s a man staring at a woman like she just rewrote the rules of gravity.
Grant rises slowly, like he’s got all the time in the world—like I’m the only thing worth savoring.
His hands skim up my legs, over my hips, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I’m still reeling from what he just did to me, every nerve ending singing, but the moment he stands, inches from my mouth, I swear the air changes. Thickens.
He brushes the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip, letting me taste myself there. My breath hitches, and before I can even think, he’s kissing me. Deeply. Thoroughly. Like he’s pressing the memory of me onto my tongue.
I gasp into his mouth, and he swallows it whole.
“You taste like heaven,” he murmurs, voice low and full of gravel. “Like something a man should be down on his knees for every damn day.”
I shiver. My hands are on his shoulders, trying to hold myself upright, but his presence is doing more to unravel me than gravity ever could.
Then he leans in again, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear. His voice drops, warm and molten and dangerous.
“And if I had it my way, princess, you wouldn’t make it five feet without feelin’ me between your thighs. I’d have you walking around sore and I’d be smug, knowin’ I was the reason all day long.”
My knees nearly buckle.
This man and his filthy mouth.
A shiver rolls through me so violently I have to grip his forearm just to stay upright. And he knows—oh, heknowsexactly what he’s doing. There’s a flash of wicked satisfaction in his eyes, the kind of look that says he’d ruin me on repeat just to watch me try to function afterward.
His filthy words wash over me like a verbal smut baptism, drenching me in heat, in hunger, in every dirty fantasy I’ve never dared say out loud. They cleanse nothing. Theyigniteeverything.
I feel scorched from the inside out.
The air between us crackles. My heart is thundering, my pulse roaring in my ears, and every inch of me aches in the most exquisite way. Not just for his touch—but formoreof his mouth,his voice, his brutal, beautiful honesty that turns every filthy sentence into a spell.
“I can still feel you on my tongue,” he continues, fingers trailing a slow, possessive path down my back. “Still got your taste in my mouth, and all I can think about is how damn good you’d sound when I make you fall apart again.”
My heart stutters. Heat pools low in my belly—fast, overwhelming. Didn’t I just climax? How the hell am I ready to combust all over again?
He draws back just enough to see my face, his gaze burning.
“You still with me?” he asks, eyes searching mine.
“Barely,” I whisper.
A crooked smile curves his mouth. “Good.”
His hands find my hips again, firm and unyielding. “Turn around for me, baby.”
I hesitate for only a second before obeying. My breath catches as his body presses up behind mine, hot and solid and relentless. His hand skims down my spine, fingers tracing every vertebra with an intimacy that nearly undoes me.
His other hand slides over my stomach, holding me flush against him. I can feel him—every hard, aching inch of him—and the strength it takes not to melt on the spot is superhuman.
“You feel that?” he whispers, lips brushing my ear. “That’s what you do to me, Mia. That’s what you’ve been doing to me since the moment you showed up and turned my life inside out.”
The way he says my name—rough, reverent, wrecked—sends a pulse through me so strong I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning.
