Fight For Her (More Than A Cowboy 1)

“Games and waiting a day to call and putting out to keep the guy interested and—”

I knew what she was talking about. I knew more women than I wanted to remember who wanted to get laid by the MMA hot shot, The Green Machine, more than Grayson Green. I’d played the games myself, all because I didn’t really give a shit. But now…? “This, between you and me…it’s…between you and me. No one else. There’s no comparison.” The answer seemed to settle her. “Sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EMORY

I came awake slowly, at first unbelievably comfortable and cozy, but then I realized my head wasn’t on a pillow, but tucked into a shoulder. Gray’s shoulder. The front half of my body was plastered against him. He was warm, yet hard all over, his muscles like steel beneath the softness of his skin. Gray was on his back sound asleep and I took the opportunity to look at him. We’d only held hands and kissed and I’d never seen him undressed. This was the first glimpse I had of his body and I could do it freely. His whiskers were dark on his jaw, his lashes and brows equally dark. Even in sleep he was formidable. I could see the tattoo on his chest now, a swirling pattern that began on his left pec and curved around his ribs and onto his back. He had a smattering of hair on his chest, then tapered over the rigid curves of his abs to form a dark line below his navel. It traveled beneath the waistband of his boxers and I felt myself flush, wondering what the rest of him looked like.

Now wasn’t the time to find out. He deserved his rest after the night I put him through. I remembered crying all over him, then waking up from a nightmare at some point during the night. He’d been there, holding me each time. I felt safe and…wanted when I was with him. It was the first time in years I’d had someone to grab on to, who’d let me cry, who let me be weak. While I had Chris, I’d been alone since the divorce, being strong for my son when I felt like being anything but. With Gray, I didn’t have to pretend

, didn’t have to be invincible because I knew he could be strong for us both.

I wanted to stroke my hand over his cheek, to kiss him, but I didn’t. While he slept, he didn’t worry, didn’t have the combined stress of my mess and his own work. Carefully, slowly, I slid off the bed and into the bathroom, shutting the door as quietly as possible. After taking care of business, I used the same toothbrush from the night before. My hair was wild from falling asleep with it wet, but I didn’t have a hair tie to pull it back. I inwardly groaned at Gray seeing me like this, but then I remembered how I'd been a sniveling mess just hours before so it was somewhat irrelevant at this point.

I came out of the bathroom to find Gray awake. He'd pushed himself up so he leaned against the pillows and headboard, the sheet sliding down to reveal his torso. His very fit, muscular torso with the incredible tattoo. Even the one on his arm stood out now. I hadn’t considered tattoos appealing before, but they were a part of Gray and they were perfect. His gaze raked over me from head to toe.

Biting my lip, I stood just outside the bathroom. Would he want me to go? Had I ruined everything with my emotional outburst?

He crooked a finger. “Come here,” he murmured.

Just those two words had my fears crumbling away. I walked over to the side of the bed as his eyes followed me. His fingers went to the hem of my T-shirt. He kept his gaze fixed on them for a moment, just holding the hem, then let go. He looked up at me. There, in his eyes, was the heat and intensity I recognized. Lust, pure and hot, flared and I knew this was the moment. I felt my nipples tighten against the cotton of his shirt, my core softening and heating from just that look. My lips parted and I breathed slowly.

While Gray had taken me for crabs for lunch, sent me sweet and funny texts, even rescued me when I’d called him, he’d been chivalrous and a perfect gentleman. Even when he’d kissed me in my kitchen, I’d only caught a quick glimpse of an aroused and needy Gray. He’d held back, waited. But now, the waiting was over. This Gray, with his piercing dark eyes, the hooded lids, was something else entirely. His lust was visible in the tense lines of his muscles, the ruddy color of his cheeks, the heat that his body exuded. This was the version of him he’d held back, kept at bay, perhaps to keep from scaring me, because he was…intense.

He held his hand out, not quite touching me, making me reach out to him. What we did in this moment was my choice. I could lift my hand and take his and I knew what would happen. We’d have sex. No, it wouldn’t be sex with Gray. It would be more. So much more. He was going to claim me and make me his. With Gray, there would be no going back. He’d said he never brought women to his apartment and so this simple act, holding his hand out for me to take, signified he was giving me…everything.

My other choice was to step back, to walk away. He’d continue to be patient, to be gentlemanly until I was ready. Was that what I wanted? Did I want Gray to continue to be a gentleman? I liked that he was. It showed so much of his character, but now, it wasn’t enough. I wanted to see every facet of the man, to know every part of him, including the dark and carnal. I didn’t want him to hold back any longer. I wanted all of him.

I lifted my hand and placed it in his. His eyes, the banked heat there, flared to life. With one tug, he pulled me across his lap, his arm around me so I was flush against him and he was kissing me. While the kiss in my kitchen had been hot, this kiss, this was possession. His tongue plundered, tangled with mine and I moaned, opening my mouth even wider.

My hands moved to his chest, roaming over the hot skin, feeling the steely muscles beneath. He made a sound in the back of his throat, which I took for approval, and continued. The arm about me loosened and he shifted, forcing me onto my back with him looming over me, his weight resting on his forearm. My knees were bent over the side of the bed, my lower legs dangling off.

His hand came up and brushed my wild hair back from my face as he stared at my lips, then my eyes. Breathing raggedly, he just took me in. As he lowered his head, I watched as his eyes closed, then he nipped and sucked at my lower lip.

“Baby, what you do to me,” he whispered just above my mouth.

Heat flared at his words, my body lighting up, awakening.

“I can’t be a gentleman, Em. Not anymore.”

At the words, I got wet, felt it on my thighs. “Good.”

At that one simple word, his hands slowly lifted the hem of my T-shirt, exposing my belly inch by inch. He lowered his head to kiss and lick over the skin he revealed. The stubble on his chin rasped against me, only heightening the sensations. Lifting my hands, I ran them over his head, the dark hair there soft and silky, but not long enough for me to run my fingers through it. When the back of the shirt was caught beneath our combined weights, he rolled us once again so I sat straddling his lap. I could now feel the hard length of him against my core with the both pairs of boxers in the way. He was big, really big.

It wasn’t the thought of all that size fitting inside me that had me panting, it was the way his eyes darkened. My body had only been seen by one man. As Gray’s fingers worked the T-shirt up my belly once again, higher and higher until I had to lift my arms, I worried at what he would think. My breasts weren’t those of a twenty-year-old. I’d had a baby that I’d nursed for over a year. I wasn’t small, but I wasn’t young and nubile either. I relished the modern bra and how it helped my breasts defy gravity. But as he tossed the T-shirt to the side, I couldn't hide. I glanced down at Gray, fearful of what he might think, what he might say, but his eyes spoke for him.

There wasn’t revulsion or surprise or even tepid curiosity. It was almost reverence that I glimpsed.

“You are so beautiful,” he uttered as his hands came up and cupped me.

The shock of his palms on my sensitive flesh had my eyes flaring wide, then sliding shut. The heat of it zinged down between my parted legs and I moaned.

“Jesus, baby, they fit perfectly in my hands.” He flicked his thumbs over my tight nipples and my eyes flew open to look at him, but he was looking at my breasts. “Like that?”

His gaze met mine and I nodded. At my response, he did it again, brushing his thumbs back and forth, then switched to thumb and forefinger. He was playing now, watching me to see what I liked. I liked it all. God, I had no idea my breasts were so sensitive. I arched my back, pushing them into his hands.

On a growl, he shot up and took one nipple into his mouth, suckled.