Chapter 41
Isigh and close the computer in frustration.
Two weeks. It’s been two whole excruciating weeks, and nothing from Lonnie.
The silence makes me want to scream. I tap my finger on the dining table, anxiety thickening the tendons in my neck. “Why hasn't he said anything?”
“Relax, Olivia.” Grant lowers his paper and reaches for his cup of coffee. “Judging from what the security detail told me yesterday, we have every indication to believe that he’s given up.”
“Yeah?” I scowl. “And I think you're wrong.” He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “I grew up with him, Grant. It's so unlike Lonnie to go mum. If he's done, I think he would have told me.”
“Someone who's ducking away with their tail between their legs because their plan failed isn't going to say anything. Just relax, and don't worry.”
I blow out a quick wind of disdain. “Easy for you to say.”
His eyes widen. “Someone's edgy this morning.” One side of his mouth pulls up into that sinful half-smirk. “Does Miss Tucker need to be tamed?”
“Grant—”
“Because I'm very good at it.” He discards the paper and cup of Joe altogether, pushing them down the table. “In fact.” He rests his elbows on the edge. “Pacifying Olivia Tucker happens to be my specialty.”
A small laugh slips out, and I look at the clock. “A nice thought, but we don't have time. We need to leave soon.”
“You forget, I'm the boss.” He stands. “We'll show up when I decide you're fulfilled and soothed for the day.” One smooth brow cocks up. “Besides, I promised you amazing sex every day while you're holed up in this penthouse. I have to keep my promises.”
My body ignites with greedy heat as he rounds the table and stands in front of me. He hasn't even touched me yet, and I'm ready. An ache of want courses through my body when he reaches down and undoes the top button of my blouse.
His taut stomach and chest move with shallow air as my skin becomes exposed. “Get yourself to the bedroom if you don't want to be stripped down out here.”
“Bossy.” I lean back in the seat and clench my fingers around the armrests. “Maybe I won't let you tame me today.”
“Ooh, you better,” he rumbles. “Because I'm sure as hell not working next to you all day with you acting like this.”
“Hmm.” My heel dangles off my foot as I cross my legs and fold my arms. “I think you like me feisty, so I'm refusing you.”
That spark I saw a moment ago ruptures into flames. He kneels down, losing his coat along the way, and I know I'm in trouble. “See if you can still say that once I start.” He ducks his head low, going for my left ankle.
Warm, firm lips kiss my leg through my stockings as he removes my shoes. He works his way up, slowly and methodically. Pushing me to the brink of insanity, daring me to let go. At last, he connects with the inside of my knee, and my head falls back while I moan.
“That's it,” he murmurs. “Focus on this.” His sex-filled voice fills my head, drowning out the reality around me. “Focus on me and relax.”
“God, Grant.” I shudder, and my eyes roll back into my head as his hand runs up my leg, working under my skirt. He kneads my outer thigh, then stops, the pleasure fleeing with his pause. I open my eyes and look down.
“Ready to get into the room now?”
A lustful thump throttles my heart, and I shake my head. “You know, I’ve never been pinned to a glass window.” I flick my eyes to the skyline views, then back to him.
There's a silence as I watch him comprehend my words. Finally, a naughty smile pulls at his angular features, and he partially stands while dragging me off the chair, the legs scraping along the marble floor.
“Oooh, sweetheart, you're speaking my language, and we're definitely not going to work now. Not when you're going to fulfill all my fantasies.”
Buttons pop off my blouse and scatter as he takes his hands and yanks the center open. I’m too turned on, my body aching, to scold him for the action.
He grunts when he catches sight of my white lace bustier, grabs me by the thighs, and drags my ass halfway off the chair. “Fucking gorgeous woman.” Forcing my legs apart, he puts his wide body between them. “You have no business looking like this, making me feel like this.”
“And how do I make you feel?”
A vein pops out on his temple. “Like I’ll fucking wither into nothing if I don’t wake up next to you. Like the only way I can draw my next breath is if you’re breathing too. Like life serves no purpose if I can’t make you smile. Like you’re everything.”
“Same,” I whisper, broken and breathless, my racing pulse stealing my words. “Same.”
He pulls to his feet, and the metal on his belt chimes while he undoes it. The leather zooms and snaps through the loops, and then clatters as he tosses it across the room, renders the anticipation thrumming through my head thick.
“Forget the window,” he purrs, his chest pulling up so high his shirt rustles. “I’m fucking you right in this chair with your knees pinned to your ears.”
“Oh, fuck.” Lust sends a delicious squeeze through my stomach as I think about Grant having his way with me while I’m confined to this chair—only him.
“That’s a yes from you.”
He drops his trousers and briefs, his cock bobbing between his corded thighs.
The briefest glimpse of that gorgeous cock is all I’m gifted with and then a hot shriek from my lungs fills the apartment.
My knees are indeed up to my ears, my pussy now on full display. I bite my lip, white hot sex shooting through my nerves with Grant lightly tapping on my clit.
“So gorgeous, babe.” He fills me, his balls kissing my ass.
He’s in so deep. It’s almost too much at this angle, but it’s glorious. My eyes squeeze shut so hard, a dark blue hue twinkles behind them. I hiss his name as he rifts in and out again, and as he slams in once more, the legs of the chair grind against the floor.
“Holy fuck, Grant.” My fingertips dig into his forearms, and my eyes snap open. I connect with his dark blue eyes and see his soul reflected back at me.
Everything he said moments ago flames inside of him. The way he needs me—feels for me—loves me. It’s so alive and tangible that I can taste his truth on my tongue. It’s sweet, and satisfying, and I ride my first orgasm, clenching hard around him.
He tosses his head back and growls. “Fuck. You’re so tight.”
With the words come a renewed pace. He slams into me harder and impossibly deeper. My spine is curling off the chair—the chair which is halfway across the penthouse, in the middle of the room now because of his thrusts. When I’m pushed off the edge a second time, I come again, quivering from head to toe, and the chair has come to a stop, colliding against a wall.
My legs would be limp if not for Grant. They’re spent, useless twigs, but they remain glued to my earlobes. I want to close my eyes and get lost after that orgasm, but the moan tearing from my lover keeps them open.
He’s so close, with his handsome face straining a deep crimson and sweat glistening across his brows. A few more deep slams, and he unravels, his grip bruising as he fills me. Spent, exhausted, and panting, he pulls out, then sinks to his knees. And while he rests his head against my thigh, my heart swells, wanting to break out from behind my ribs as he presses a light kiss to my skin and says my four favorite words.
“Fuck, I love you.”
“I love you too,” I say, thoroughly soothed, spent, and wasted for the remainder of the day. “I love you too.”