“Hmm,” she mused. “I had planned some baklava to end our Mideast feast, but it sounds like you have something else in mind?”
Keeping hold of her warm hand, Grant rose from the table, drawing her out of her chair. “Maybe later for the baklava,” he suggested. He gently cradled her other hand in his and they faced each other, inches apart. His fingers slid softly over her smooth hands, which rested by her side.
“The flesh kind of dessert then?” She tilted her face up and leaned in to meet his smiling lips with her own. Their kiss started as tentative and sweet, an exploratory union holding the promise of deeper passion. Grant let go of one hand to cradle the back of her head, his hand pressing into her strawberry tresses while his lips bore down on her mouth.
Between gradually intensifying kisses he whispered, “Your delicious dinner was a wonderful thank-you gift.”
Snaking her hands up his back and cradling them over his broad shoulders, she gazed into his eyes and pledged, “My thank you is just getting started, McSailor.”
He raised his eyebrows and his typically cool eyes smoldered. Abruptly he squatted and hoisted her body in one swift movement.
Sophie squealed as he slung her over his shoulder.
“I’m taking you to my bed, woman,” he announced.
She continued giggling, feeling blood rush to her face. “Oh, McSailor, you’ve got me. I’m at your mercy.”
“Glad you see things clearly,” he responded as he took sure strides into the bedroom, his precious cargo slung like a sack of potatoes across his back. The bed was neatly made—traces of his military training—and he gently unfurled her body from his, resting her on the leafy sage bedding. He feasted his eyes on the rosy skin of her arms and neck.
“As sexy as you look in that getup, I’m going to have to strip it off of you right now.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
He grinned. “Ah, I love a feisty Bonnie lass.” Crawling onto the bed, he undid the clasp of her halter top while simultaneously planting a scorching kiss on her lips.
She pulled down her halter top, exposing her bare breasts. No bra! He swiftly lifted his light-blue polo shirt over his head, then straddled her reclining form.
He slid his long fingers up her ribcage, kneading and massaging her firm breasts and hardening nipples with his adept touch. Feeling his hardness near her, on her, around her, she desperately wanted him in her, and she reached down to unzip his jeans.
He was zoned in on the flesh cradled in his hands, however, and he would not be deterred. Her breath hitched as his tongue swirled across her sensitive skin. She gave up on removing his pants and allowed her arms to fall by her side, useless.
Grant paused and peeked up, smirking. “Is my little chef tired from all her cooking today? Just leave the work to me. I’ll take good care of you.”
She grinned as he scooted himself toward her feet while he peeled off her pantsuit. Always a gentleman, he popped off the bed to hang the pantsuit carefully on a chair before returning to his beauty.
Grant admired her black panties. “You are one sexy woman, Sophie Taylor.”
She sat up and grabbed the waistband of his unbuttoned jeans, noticing the tightening bulge beneath the zipper. “And you are wearing entirely too many clothes, Grant Madsen.” She helped him shimmy out of his jeans, then beckoned him back to the bed. He sat on the sheets and she cuddled up on top of him, her long legs wrapped around him as they continued kissing, reveling in their closeness.
Moving easily together, she helped him shed his boxers a split second before he removed her panties. Having spent several evenings naked in each other’s company, their self-consciousness was gone.
Grant nestled himself into the covers, resting on his back and panting with anticipation, as Sophie unrolled a condom over his rock-hard erection. There was no need for words as they synchronously flowed together, reading each other’s intentions through hungry looks or sensuous touches. He reached down to her core and let his fingers do the talking as he prepared her for entry, reveling in her delectable moans.
Crawling up his body, her eyes glowed with desire. The faint smile on her lips disappeared the moment she guided him into her wetness. Her lips separated and a staccato gasp stole the air around her as he filled her completely.
She rested her weight entirely on top of him and he bucked into her, his hands all over her glorious body as they thrust together. Somehow managing to corral his roving hands with her own, she held on for dear life as he took her screaming upward to the height of arousal—higher, faster, climbing to a soaring zenith as both reached a shuddering peak. They held onto their high for a magnificent moment, suspended in time. Then their bodies collapsed into each other, and Sophie tried to catch her breath, her lungs heaving and quivering against his strong chest.
Their eyes met again and she gave a brilliant smile, watching beads of sweat form on his forehead and enjoying the feel of him below her and inside her. “I love your widow’s peak,” she said, still trying to resume normal respiration.
“You do?”
“Very much,” she confirmed, shifting up to kiss the peak softly. “And I love the cute little mole you have over here.” She moved her mouth to plant a sweet kiss on his right temple. “I find your luscious, full lips irresistible.” He lifted his head to meet hers, and their tongues danced and dipped playfully.
“But most of all,” she continued, “I adore your beautiful eyes. I could get lost in those sparkling sea-blue eyes, McSailor.” She leaned forward and feathered a soft kiss on each eyelid in turn.
She finally rolled off him to rest by his side. They were contentedly quiet for a few moments until she remembered a question she’d been meaning to ask.
“So, how was your meeting with Jerry this morning?”
The high he’d been riding swiftly bottomed out with a crash, his lilting romantic fantasy abruptly ruined by his dark family reality. She noticed him tense instantly.
“Hey,” she softly cried, reaching out to cup his chin with her hand. “What’s wrong, Grant?”
Staring into her eyes, he knew what he had to do. This gorgeous woman deserved to know the truth about him and his family. She’d given herself to him, and he needed to be totally open with her. It was only fair.
“I …” He cleared his throat, his voice raspy from their intense lovemaking. “I need to tell you something, Sophie.”
Watching a resigned expression darken his features, suddenly she didn’t want to hear what he had to say. She didn’t want anything ruining their perfect connection: lying here naked, snuggled close, relishing in post-coital bliss.
“Shh,” she responded, lifting herself up on one elbow and laying her index finger on his lips. “I’ve been thinking about us, and I realized it’s unfair for me to be mad at you for withholding information, when I myself have not been entirely forthcoming.”