Page 88 of Defended By Love

Grant doesn’t answer. He just sighs.

Taking his hands in mine, I rise onto my toes to kiss him. Those beautiful, brown eyes sparkle back at me.

“You did a really nice thing when you moved back in with her.” He flushes, so I squeeze his hands. I hate that there’s so much shame for such a good deed. “Truly.”

Grant shrugs. “She needs someone around. At least for right now.”

And, of course, that someone is Grant. It’s always Grant.

He was a superhero long before he bought that silly cape.

Grant slips his hands out of my own, places them on my hips, and then slides them down to grab my ass with both hands. His chocolate eyes glint with intention.

“And I need you.”

Well, no argument there. Sex has been delayed long enough. I’ve been denied having him inside of me a ridiculous number of times.

The thought of him finally inside me makes my stomach lurch with anticipation.

No, not with anticipation…

“You’re fucking kidding me,” I swear. Anticipation has nothing to do with what I’m feeling. It’s the whooshing feeling of the reset. I guess it got closer to midnight than I realized. “This isn’t over,” I warn Grant.

A shuddering heartbeat later, I’m back in my office.

Chapter 38

I have numerous shortcomings, but lack of determination cannot be counted among them. When I set my mind to do something, it damn-well is going to happen.

“I am going to fuck Grant Morgan,” I promise my empty office building. The resolution burns with its intensity just as fiercely as my fucking loins—whatever the hell those actually are. I am going to have that man inside me before I wind up back here no matter what.

In the several minutes it takes for Grant to burst through the window, I do none of my usual routine. I don’t smash up Dominic’s office. I don’t haunt the file room. I don’t even try to figure out what Beth meant by ‘shorts’.

Instead, I stand near the window, do a freshness check, primp my hair, and take off any excess clothing that could potentially hinder us going straight to sex.

I watch Grant’s silhouette approach, cape billowing against the cityscape backdrop through the window. The rain pounds on the window in time with my racing heart.

The window groans slightly as it flexes beneath Grant’s gravitational power and then pops out of the frame in one solid piece. He’s really improving with his technical control.

Not that I care.

I take off running towards the empty wall of windows and jump. I have no doubt that Grant will catch me. He’s so quick that I feel his arms around me before I feel the rain splash on my head.

Long moments later, the glass shatters at the base of the building, its breaking piercing the night like a scream. I pause. Very much so like a scream.

Grant squeezes my ass as he holds me with my legs wrapped around his center.

“Isn’t this exactly where we left off?” he asks.

“No time for talking,” I say, fumbling at the cheap zipper at the back of his suit. “Sex first. Talk later.”

Grant laughs.

“I’m not joking,” I say as I pull harder at the zipper until it breaks. Raging, I throw a look up to the down-pouring sky. Why is the universe so determined to cockblock me?

“I know you’re not joking, Sunshine,” Grant says, kneading his fingers into my ass and pressing my core up against his erection. “You’re funniest when you’re not trying to be.”

“What about when I’m sexiest?” I counter.

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