Southern Gentleman (Charleston Heat 3)

Grey ducks down and kisses me. I taste myself on his mouth.

It turns me on all over again.

“Julia,” he says, taking my bottom lip between his teeth, “you’ve always been the boss. You’ve always had the power.”

Now it’s my heart that’s dipping. Our lashes tangle as he tilts his head and kisses me more deeply. A hungry kiss. One I’m starting to know well.

“That’s not true.”

He pulls back. Searches my eyes.

“Think about it, sweetheart. When have I ever not been at your mercy?”

“Uh. The Rodgers’ Farms project, for starters.”

He shakes his head. “Maybe I won a battle here and there. But you won the war. Honestly, it was over before it even began. You had me under your spell from the beginning. I was enthralled by you from the start. You had the better ideas. The better vision. And you had the better of me.”

I swallow, hard. Running my fingers down his arm. The muscles there harden and bunch as I move.

“Then why were you always such a dick? Why’d you fight me at every turn?”

He sighs. A sigh he catches with a small grunt.

“I’m sorry.”

I look at him. “I know. And I appreciate the apology. But I think it’s fair to say you owe me a real explanation. I admit I’ve been fighting this sense of whiplash—how you went from the prick in the power suit to the softie charmer who makes dinner and also makes me come so hard I forget my own name.”

“I know, Julia. I’m trying. I’m trying.” He looks at me for a beat. He’s got this pleading look in his eyes.

He’s asking me for time. Patience.

He’s opening up to me. Slowly, yes. But he’s still moving forward. And maybe for someone as locked up and uptight as he is, that counts as real progress.

Also. It’s not like we don’t have time. Like Gracie said, I’ve got the rest of my life, literally, to get to know this man. This baby isn’t going anywhere, and neither are we.

“Keep trying.” I reach for him, wrapping my hand around his hard length. A flare of heat erupts in his gaze. “In the meantime, lemme make you feel as good as I do right now.”Chapter EighteenGreysonI just might be in love with this woman.

Granted, my rational mind probably isn’t working with Julia’s hand wrapped around my dick.

But she’s giving me time. Giving me the space I need to gather myself. Gather my courage and my thoughts.

I am not a patient man. Especially not with myself.

The fact that Julia is being patient with me makes me want to change that.

She’s making me want to change everything.

Which is a scary fucking prospect.

A groan erupts in my chest when Julia gives me a tight tug. I’m so hard right now I’m the size of a goddamn tree trunk. Making her come like that—seeing her surrender to me, to sensation—was the sexiest thing I have ever, ever seen.

The taste of her cunt is all over me.

I’m going to come in three seconds if I’m not careful.

Julia twists her wrist as she tugs, curling her palm over my head before moving back down.

Just how I like it.

Closing my eyes, I draw a sharp breath through my nose. My arms shake a little.

“Grey, baby, lay down,” she says, her accent thickening. She gives my cock a squeeze. “Let me take care of this.”

I love it when she calls me these things. Grey. Baby.

Shiiiiiit this is happening fast.

Who am I kidding? It’s been happening all along.

And I’m too far gone to stop now.

Ducking my head to kiss Julia one last time, I roll over onto my back, the mattress dipping beneath my weight.

She props herself up on her elbow beside me. Then it’s her turn to climb over me. Her mouth is on my chest, lingering on my nipple before heading south. Her hair, a wild blond halo, is everywhere, tickling my skin as she moves.

My cock throbs as she gets closer. And closer.

Tucking an arm behind my head, I prop myself up so I can watch.

Julia giving head is a sight to behold. I’m not gonna last long, so I want to make the most of every moment.

Straddling my thighs, she shoots me a look.

Leans down, the hardened points of her tits brushing my thighs.

Kisses me, running her tongue along the crown of my dick.

Too. Much. My. God—

Parting her lips—parting her knees, sinking lower—she swallows my head into the soft heat of her mouth. Careful not to get me with her teeth.

My balls tighten. I bite down on the inside of my cheek. Reach for her, holding back her hair so it’s out of her face and I can get a better look.

“Julia.” It comes out as a moan. A plea.

I am at her mercy. Vulnerable and open and needy.

She’s wrecked me.

I’m fucking wrecked.

She takes me all the way to the back of her throat in reply. One smooth, steady motion.