She did. She liked him a lot, and her simple declaration seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. His pulled her close, almost roughly, and kissed her soundly, catching her bottom lip in his teeth for the tiniest nip. It made her gasp, and it made her melt. Then his hands were everywhere, sliding up her back, tracing her spine and then back to her hips to pull her against him. She marveled at the sensations as their bodies swayed on the soft mattress. He kissed her throat, then leaned backward to slowly, slowly, ease the hem of her shirt up and off. She lifted her arms, letting the fabric tease her skin.
No chance for shyness or hesitation now. She was topless, and not at all sorry about it. The air in the room was cool, but his admiration was hot, his gaze paying tribute to her body as his hands followed. He cupped her breasts, running his thumbs against the peaks. She pressed into his palms, getting a squeeze and a growl from him for her efforts. Then his arms wrapped around her once more, and she was pinned breathless beneath him as they tumbled to the mattress. The smattering of hair on his chest added to the delicious friction, sending tendrils of heat outward through her limbs, turning all her muscles to liquid as he kissed her, his tongue a miraculous thing.
Everything inside her was functioning on instinct and need. His mouth lit up her senses, setting her on fire, bringing her alive. She heard the mumbled dialogue of the movie, faint in the background, but concentrated on the throaty sounds and hushed breaths exchanged between them. He grazed his teeth along her shoulder, threaded his fingers into her hair, tugging it. This wasn’t tender, it was urgent.
“God,” he murmured into the curve of her neck.
She nodded at his sentiment and arched upward. “I know. Me too,” she whispered.
Her hands explored, feeling the smooth muscles of his back bunch up and release at her touch. She moved one leg up and around and pressed her heel into the back of his thigh.
“Lane, I hope you’re in a hurry.” His voice tumbled out from deep within his chest, and was laced with both humor and desperation.
“I am, but do you have any . . . party favors?” She felt as desperate as he sounded.
He lifted his head and smiled down at her.
“I do. Compliments of our hosts.”
She reached around his waist and grabbed his ass, giving it a squeeze. “Then how about a little less conversation, a little more action, baby?”
He kissed her fast and hard. “You are my kind of girl, Elaine Masters.” Her heart wobbled at his words, like a flat tire on sticky pavement, but she pushed the thought away. Her name was a technicality at the moment. He wanted her, her, not some reality TV rendition of her. Not some old sex tape version either. She’d tell him the truth tomorrow for sure.
He rolled off the bed and found his coat, unzipping one of the interior pockets. She sat up and smiled.
“That’s where you put them? In your coat?”
He pulled out a foil packet, then smiled at her and took out a second one, and a third, tossing them onto the nightstand.
“I was in a hurry. We were getting off the bus. Where would you suggest I put them?”
She laughed and fell back to the bed, crossing her arms over her breasts. “I don’t know. I’m just glad you brought some.”
He came back to her then, eyes gleaming. “Me too. And I grabbed at least ten, so I hope you weren’t planning on sleeping.” He leaned over her, kissing her belly and working his way up, tantalizing her. She sighed from deep within. She needed this, this loving attention, this release, and the freedom to just feel. To just be. Everyone she’d ever been with before had come to her with expectations because of who she was, because of who her parents were, but he knew none of that. He wanted her for her, and she meant to make the most of it.
He lavished patient attention on her most sensitive spots until she was breathless. She wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him closer. The fabric between them was a frustrating barrier. He must’ve thought so too because he rolled away slightly and tugged at the waistband of her pajama pants.
“These need to go,” he said, his voice decisive.
She hesitated, knowing this was truly the point of no return. Those pajama pants were the only thing between her and being full-on naked. And once she was naked, well, then she’d be naked.
Grant looked up at her face, his eyes drunk with desire, but he sensed her reservation and kissed her, soft and slow. She felt it from her lips to her toes, and everywhere in between.
“Please?” he whispered, and she was lost. She would give him anything. Everything. She’d known that, deep down, since the first moment she’d seen him. All he’d ever had to do was ask nicely, and in this moment, he was asking, very, very nicely.