Page 48 of Resisting the Grump

“Because I want to keep you.”

She looked down at me, her fiery hair framing her face as her shallow breathing made her breasts swell against my palms.

Then I reached up and cradled the back of her head, inviting her to bend down and bring her lips to mine. And as her sweet tongue sent warm shivers through my body, I knew I wouldn’t rest until I’d tended to every inch of her tender, tattooed temple.

T W E N T YF I V E

- Avery -

I woke when something stirred beside me. A weight on the edge of the bed. The next sensation I noticed was a pleasant soreness between my legs.

“Good morning.” Oliver’s deep voice pierced the soft silence around me.

I opened my eyes. He was half naked on my side of the bed, perched atop the covers, which looked like the messy meringue peaks of a lemon pie. I smiled when I saw his handsome face, his smooth skin. Thank goodness I was willing to break promises to myself. When it came to pleasing this man, there was no level to which I didn’t want to stoop. “You’re up.”

“I made you some tea.” He nodded towards my bedside table. “English breakfast,” he added. “Not that there’s much in the way of breakfast.”

“Yeah...” I stretched my arms above my head and arched my back with a moan, wondering what pleasant aches I could look forward to after last night’s… private training session. “I’ve been meaning to get to the store.”

“I could butter some toast for you.”

“I’ll get spoiled.”

“I like you spoiled,” he said, his dark eyes warming my face. “Demanding.”

“I’ve always suspected being polite doesn’t suit me,” I said, scooting up against the pillows and deliberately letting him get an eyeful of my bare breasts before I pulled the sheet up.

“Tease,” he accused.

“You’d think after all the eyefuls you got last night, you’d be sick of them.”

“You forgot mouthfuls,” he said, waggling his brows. “And handfuls.”

I sighed, happy to relive the memory. His touch had felt so nourishing and naughty all at once. One moment he’d be teasing me lightly and in the next, he’d be squeezing me a little too hard. My mouth watered just thinking about it.

“You want that toast?”

“No,” I said, knowing I needed something way more substantial. Like a few omelets with French toast, a pile of hash browns, and some extra-crispy bacon. Man, one night with this guy and I was Michael Phelps. I fought a smile. “You want to go out for something?”

“Can’t,” he said. “I have to get some work done so I can take you to dinner again soon.”

I raised my brows.

“Since you have nothing to eat.” He almost seemed miffed about it. Like we’d been dating for ages, and the fact that I wasn’t taking better care of myself offended him somehow.

“How about instead of taking me out again, I take you in again?” I bat my lashes, hoping he’d get the joke.

“Why choose?” he said, his gaze falling down my blanket wrapped body as if he had x-ray vision.

I reached for the steaming mug of tea on the table, cradling it carefully in my palms in an effort to distract myself from Oliver’s Hollywood hard body. And that ass. It was almost comically muscular, perfect for sinking my fingers in when he was equally sunk.

“What do you eat when I don’t feed you?”

I shrugged. “Mealworms and crickets mostly… when I can catch them.”

He feigned a scowl.

“I also get a lot of snacking in at the bakery.”

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