“No. God, you have no idea how badly I want you to fuck me.” I smile, running my fingertips over his chiseled cheekbone. “However, for now, maybe just go under my skirt.”
“Don't be ridiculous.”
There's no time to react. My top yanks up without warning.
“No!” My hands shield my face with shame. Air hits my bare midsection, and tears sting at my eyes. I have to be a repulsive sight.
An oil burn scar, from Lonnie, is now on full display.
It came after an argument. A stupid one at that. I commented on his girlfriend being taller than him. He responded by waiting till I was asleep by our pool, sunbathing in my bikini, and poured hot bacon grease on my stomach. The pain was real; the scar is worse.
A mangled, botched up, wrinkled piece of skin that’s a good five inches in any direction if not more. The only reason why I didn't go to the doctor is because my parents wouldn't let me. They were afraid Lonnie would end up in forced therapy, so I was left with no treatment.
My blood is like sludge in my veins as the weight of Brexton lessens. A prayer for disappearance is next after I open my eyes and see his expression.
His fixed eyes rest on my scar, letting me know it's horror, maybe even aversion he's feeling. It takes everything in me not to flinch when one long finger lightly grazes the area.
“Who did this to you?” The question rasps out, and his gaze narrows to dark slits.
There’s one secret. The deepest one of the bunch. How he knows it was caused by someone and not something is beyond me. Maybe he's that perceptive. All I know is I'm already out, and I'm sure he is too after seeing this.
“It doesn't matter.” I shake my head and start to sit up. He pins me down in a controlled snap, and I squeak. His fingers bear into my shoulders as my teeth click against each other.
“It does matter. It matters because if I ever find that person, they’re fucking dead.”
He steals my breath, words, and senses. Steals it all along with a fraction of my heart. I’ve never heard such lethal indignation concerning Lonnie, and the rage I see in Grant obliterates every voice in my head, altering it to one that tells me I’m safe.
Finally.
One of Grant’s brows skirts up as he smooths his thumb pad across my hairline. “Is this part of what you’re trying to forget?”
I nod slightly, barely, but the way his gaze breaks tells me he sees it in full.
His throat bobs with a swallow, and a weighted pause swirls in the air. “In the elevator, you mentioned something about getting hurt.” There's a quick glance toward the area of my scar, and his brows crease. “I imagine you've been hurt in more ways than one. Olivia, I am many things. But whatever happened to you, I am not that.”
My heart brims over with warmth, the feeling of safety that I’ve longed for, flooding my chest when his thumb glides along my cheek. The concerned crease of his forehead vanishes as his eyes soften. His next question finishes the work of depleting any resistance remaining in me.
“Do you want me?”
My head falls back. A weight of need sits heavy in my legs, pressing me into the couch. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life, and now that he’s asking, it kindles the desire even more. I nod. “More than I can put into words.”
A smile cracks in his eyes, and he sits on the edge of the couch, looking at me sideways. “We'll go slow.”
He begins to strip. I can't help but think I have my own personal Chippendales show as he peels off his tie, then slowly undoes the first button.
But he's too slow.
I find myself sitting up, undoing the buttons to his dress shirt on my own, starved for everything underneath. At last, his bare chest, which is lean and ripped, rubs against my silk tank top, and my heart drums hard. Then he takes off his trousers and I groan. He’s everything I imagined. Our bodies hug and meld as he deposits me back. Our fit is perfect. My fingers memorize every ripple as they run the course of his torso.
He grinds against me in all the right places while I’m pinned beneath him—devious payback for my behavior in the elevator, but I don't dare complain. Sweet breath tickles my skin as he rests his head in the dip of my neck. His lips softly peck the area in reaffirming praise when I rake my fingers down his naked back. I bow against him as his hand runs up my leg, and the sound I've wanted to hear comes out.
“Olivia.” He murmurs it in that sex-filled voice, and my skin ignites. Supple lips now trail mind-melting kisses along my jawline, and he repeats my name. “Olivia?”
“Hmmm.” I can’t speak properly.
“Darling, if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, you tell me.”
One finger dips inside the waistband of my skirt, and I shudder in delight, too taken with everything he touches to answer.
“Darling?” He slows our already burning pace, which makes my eyes peel open. “You'll tell me?”
I nod lazily, my eyes heavy from euphoria. “Yes. Of course, Grant.”
That’s the last coherent sentence I utter as he slides the garment over my hips until it reaches my ankles. Pulling the skirt off completely, he tosses it to the floor, followed by my bra and panties. Soft fingers skim over my thighs, and he groans.
“Fuck, you’re a dream. A pure, sweet treasure.” Relevantly, he brings his lips down to my skin, blowing his breath across my stomach, gently enough to make me writhe in desperation. “Do you think you’re ready for me?”
I nod, my hair catching on the plush fabric of the couch.
“I’m so glad,” he approves. “Because I’m famished for you, Olivia.” One more whispering kiss connects to my collarbone, and I don’t miss the flick of his tongue or his groan. “Allow me to feel needed tonight.”
A hard shudder wrecks his body as he glides his hardened tip against my drenched opening. Already the width makes my heart catch in wild suspense. It’s a prelude to the power I’m about to be consumed by—a power Grant alone seems to possess. One that takes but also fills.
Slowly, he slides in. We murmur each other’s names in unison while he sends my eyes to the back of my head.
Through a pant, he supports his weight on his arms and rifts in and out, tentatively. “Is this all right for you, darling?”
“Yes. Oh, God.” Another slow repeat of the motions makes my toes curl, a desperate yelp spilling from my parted mouth.
He pulls out right before thrusting in again, and for the split second of his absence, I want to cry at how empty I feel.
God, this is so much faster and way more out of control than I planned for.
And with him being out of me for only a millisecond and me hating it, I’m battling the racing question in my head.
How do I tell him? How do I put into words that with just a few moments of experiencing him, that my heart is chasing after the tempo of his pulse as I rest my fingers against his chest. One time—one damn time, and I think I’m already in trouble. Fuck—and it’s like Grant senses my thoughts.
“Don’t overthink this.” He pumps in and out once more. The pace harder, more feral this time, his pelvis meeting the inside of my thighs with a clap. “Don’t let the moment get stolen, Olivia. Fall with me.”
“Okay.” The response is broken, but his command is successful. The following thrust shatters the swirling in my head. Slowly, my first orgasm starts to pool between my legs, growing as I say his name in ecstasy with sweat beading on my brow.
He kisses my forehead. “That’s it. Fucking let go.”
Reality becomes hazy with the dull, pleasurable ache gliding repeatedly between my thighs, and I become so lost to the rhythm that the room around me swirls into nothing. My eyes flick open, and I’m catapulted into the gaze of fiery blue eyes. I’m about to become lost in that world of blue far more than I anticipated. My hips raise at such an incredible thought, and I need more. “You feel so amazing,” I whimper. “Faster, please.”
He groans in approval, quickening his pace so my request comes true. Our skin smacks in steady beats. The couch jostles, inching forward. My skull presses into the armrest each time he presses in. A skull might be the only thing I have left of me when we’re done since the rest of my body feels boneless and limp.
When he buries deep and presses his hips flush against me, my back peels off the cushion, and my head arches back.
“So beautiful,” Grant says softly. “You look so breathtaking like this, Olivia.”
My eyes snap open, his statement baffling me. I lock onto his hooded blue ones. “Naked?” I ask, my voice breaking.
“No,” he grunts, large hands gripping around my knees to pull me in closer. “Trusting. So beautifully trusting.”
A piece of my heart opens up at his words. Trusting—it’s a thing I haven’t done in so long, but here underneath him, I know that’s exactly what’s scratching beneath the surface of the things I don’t discuss.
A whole rebirth of trust.