“Sorry.” He shook his head. “I just can’t resist.” He leaned down to graze his lips across the baby-soft skin between her breasts.
Her shivers were less about feeling cold and more about thrilling anticipation, and she inhaled sharply as he tenderly kissed her sternum, his nose nuzzled between her breasts. Her right arm snaked around his back and held on tightly as his lips ravaged her. Finally he returned to standing and gently looped the bra straps over one shoulder, then the other.
He gave her a jaunty smile. “That wasn’t so difficult now, was it?”
Reaching for the thin, scoop-neck white T-shirt, Grant draped the neck opening over her ponytail, one hand unleashing her thick hair from the collar and the other lovingly stroking her cheek. He was mesmerized by the flecks of gold and copper in her brown eyes.
His voice was husky. “There are going to be lots of kisses involved in getting you dressed.”
“That would be just fine.”
He inched closer and his lips lingered tantalizingly near hers. Then his full, sensuous mouth caressed hers, passing a jolt of electricity through them both.
Grasping her right hand while continuing to plant zealous kisses on her lips, he entwined his fingers in hers, fondling the smooth skin of her palm with his thumb. Reluctantly pulling away, he instantly locked his lips to her right shoulder and proceeded to glide his mouth down the length of her arm, leaving a hot, pulsating trail from shoulder to wrist.
He helped her lift and fold her left arm gently into the short sleeve. His soft lips loitered on the clean bandage above her elbow, and she whimpered only once as he carefully nudged her wrist through the sleeve. He drew the collar over her head then repeated the process with her right arm.
Her heart raced when he tugged her pink underwear down her legs. Once the panties passed over her ankles she nervously stepped out of them. Sensing her embarrassment, he had a fresh pair waiting for her to step into. A fiery red flushed her face as he guided the silky undergarment over her knees—would he continue his pattern of kissing the body part he dressed?
Glancing up at her with a mischievous smile, Grant craned his neck around her hip and planted a loud smooch on the curve of her bottom. Chasing her derriere with his lips he managed to connect with another kiss before she shrieked with laughter.
“Ticklish, Taylor?” he smirked, rising from his knees as he pulled her panties up and promising himself he would soon return to this enticing area (perhaps when her father wasn’t right outside the door!). He gave her a playful swat on the bottom before reaching for her jeans.
To Sophie’s delight, McSailor skimmed his mouth up and down the length of her legs like a vessel gliding across a body of water, and soon her jeans were also in place. He stood admiring his work, amazed that the casual ensemble looked so classy. She could make any clothing look stylish and chic, such was the grace of Sophie Taylor.
Her entire body hummed from the heat of his warm lips. With a woozy look, she confessed, “I never want to dress myself again.” He laughed heartily. “Will you dress me every day?”
“That can be arranged, Bonnie.”
Delicately replacing her sling, Grant then gathered magazines and books into her bag while Sophie stepped into her flats. She nervously glanced at him, knowing her father was likely waiting in the hallway. “Ready to face the music?”
Nodding confidently, Grant reasoned, “He can’t be as bad as a Mafia don.”
“We’ll see about that.”
They emerged from the room, hand in hand, with Sophie’s overnight bag slung over Grant’s shoulder.
“What took you so long?” Will demanded. Grant felt Sophie’s hand tense in his.
“What’s the rush?”
“I have the limo waiting outside for us. Let’s go.”
Sophie took a deep breath. “Dad, I’m not going home with you.”
“Of, of course you are!” he sputtered. “Where else are you going to live?”
“Kirsten’s.”
“You can’t stay in that blood-stained hovel! Kirsten is at her parents’ right now, and that’s where you should be too. Home.”
Sophie had not considered the damaged state of Kirsten’s apartment, and she dropped her head. Where was she going to live?
Grant gave her right hand a soft squeeze. “Sophie? Um, would you like to live, um, to stay, with me?” He leaned in closer and whispered, “How else would I dress you every morning?”
She smiled. “Yes. I would love to live with you, McSailor.”
Grant and Sophie shyly grinned at each other while a storm cloud passed over her father’s face.
“Y-y-you can’t live with him!He’s a felon!”
Sophie’s grin vanished. “I’m a felon too, if you haven’t noticed, Dad.” Giving Grant’s hand a reassuring squeeze, she promised, “We’ll just have to be felons together.”
“But you’re not married! Your mother would not approve of this at all.”
She felt like he’d punched her in the stomach. Grant felt her body trembling next to his, fighting for control. He pulled her closer, as if to shield her.
“It’s hard to know what Mom would want for me,” she said. “But I do know she’d want me to be happy, to be in love. And Grant is the one person in this world who brings me happiness. I am in love with Grant, whether you accept it or not.”
Will sighed. “I just worry about you, Sophie.”
She instantly felt guilty, and stepped forward to give her father a hug. “I love you, Dad,” she said, feeling comforting fatherly pats on her back. “But I can’t live with you right now.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re being a helicopter parent.”
“A what?”
“You’re hovering!”
He peered at her peculiarly. “Damn shrink talk,” he muttered.
She tossed her head and her ponytail swayed. “That’s right, Dad. Our family is enmeshed with generational boundary-crossing and emotional over-responsibility. I’m trying to break the dysfunctional communication dyads, but you’re not making it easy.”
Will groaned, and Grant got the distinct impression they’d argued this way before. Will turned to him and pleaded, “Can’t you do anything with her?”
Taken aback, Grant faltered. “Um, I have no idea what she just said, sir. I’m afraid I’m not much help.”
“Good luck with that, then.” Will anxiously cleared his throat and reached into his pocket, extracting a folded check. “I was going to give this to you, uh, at home. But I guess I have to give it to you now.”
She warily placed the check in the pocket of her jeans. “Thank you.”
“I gotta go,” her father quickly announced. “Don’t be a stranger.” With those parting words, he strode quickly toward the elevator, leaving them standing in the hospital hallway.
“Well, that wasn’t too bad,” Sophie said once he was gone.
“It wasn’t?”
“What do you mean? My dad and I argue constantly—well, when we’re speaking to each other anyway—and this is one of the first times I actually won.”