“I was thinking the same thing.”
He carried me with one hand and opened a door behind me with the other. One more step and he lowered me to a bed, complete with the softest sheets I’d ever felt. “The bed is made?” I asked as he stepped back.
“Photo shoot this morning for the brochure. Would you like a tour?” he motioned to his back.
“Of you? Yes, please.” I sat up on my knees at the edge of the bed. “Now.”
He reached behind and pulled his shirt over his head. I took it off his arms and tossed it, too intent on what was in front of me to see where it landed.
Every muscle in my core clenched. Grayson was made for sex, ripped, his muscles not just defined but built, thick and strong. His skin was a beautiful bronze and incredibly soft to my touch. My fingers worshiped the lines of his eight-pack abs. “You’re… God, I don’t even have words for what you are.” My breath became choppy as I trailed over his pecs, and he sucked in his breath when my thumbs grazed his nipples. I leaned forward and ran my tongue over one, and he hissed, his hands weaving through my hair to hold me as I gently scraped my teeth over him, then kissed the flat disc.
Sitting back on my heels, my eyes devoured every incredible inch of him. His stomach tensed under my hands, and I looked up to be held captive by the most intense, hungry stare I’d ever been given. “What are you thinking?”
“That every single weight I’ve ever lifted, or mile I’ve run has been worth it for you to look at me like that.” He caressed my cheek, then slid his hand down to the straps of my dress.
I crossed my arms in front of my stomach, a chill overpowering the heat in his gaze. “Grayson…I’m not…” I motioned to his torso.
He raised an eyebrow as his fingers toyed with the zipper under my arm. “Trust me.”
I’d never been self-conscious about my body before. Stop it. You rock your curves. Eyes locked on each other, I raised my arms above my head. Once he finished unzipping me, I nodded my assent, and he tugged the fabric gently over my head.
Was his breath shaky on that inhale? I opened my eyes and found his all over me. My skin tingled, heated wherever he paused in appreciation, his mouth dropping as his eyes locked onto my lace-cupped breasts, my stomach, then my red lace panties.
“Samantha. Damn. You’re perfect.” He reached for me, then paused. “If I start—if I touch you now…” He shook his head.
We were at his threshold, and he was giving me a choice. Like there is even one to make. I wanted him. I needed Grayson’s weight, those gloriously stacked muscles on me, his strong hands on my body. I needed him so deep that I would still taste him tomorrow—smell him on my skin. I was done waiting.
Reaching behind me, I unclasped my red lace bra and slid the straps down my arms one at a time. He never looked away, and I witnessed the moment desire for me overpowered his every other thought. I actually ached, more turned on by the possessive, predatory widening of his eyes than I ever had been with anyone else.
Once my bra met his discarded shirt, I leaned my breast into his outstretched hand. “Touch me. Don’t worry and don’t stop. I want this. I want you.”
He snapped.
One moment he was in front of me, and the next he was over me, pinning me to the bed as he kissed the breath out of me, one elbow bracing his weight and the other palming my breast. I gasped as he rolled and lightly pinched my nipple. A devious smile lit his face, and my heart stuttered. Holy shit. He was always hot, but smiling? Grayson was beautiful.