Page 76 of The Breaking Point

She didn’t even have time to speak before I kissed her. I kissed her hard, kissed her so she would know how muchshe was driving me insane. Our tongues tangled, our moans entwining, my hands running down her bare back.

I rubbed my groan against her. I wanted her to know what she did to me.

I pushed until she was pressed against the nearest wall. I imprisoned her in my arms. She wasn’t going to get away from me now.

She tasted like wine and strawberries. I dug my fingers into her hair. I wanted to muss her up, to make sure that everyone knew what we’d been doing when she went back inside.

“Brady,” she whispered, her eyes glassy.

I silenced her with another kiss. I didn’t even hear footsteps until it was too late.

GRACE

I felt like a live wire when I returned to my room that night. After some embarrassed server had caught Brady and me, Brady had immediately returned inside.

I’d had to stand out there by myself, trying to catch my breath.

Now I was back in my room, and I hadn’t calmed down. Not by a mile.

Brady Carmichael had kissed me. Finally! He’d finally kissed me.

I knew it was strange that I felt more triumphant about this than when he’d spanked me. But he’d kissed me like he not only wanted me, but needed me. That he couldn’t fight his feelings for me anymore.

You’re reading way too much into this,I warned myself.

But I didn’t care. I did a giddy little spin around my room. When I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I almost didn’t recognize the woman looking at me.

This wasn’t shy, virginal Grace Dallas. The woman looking back at me knew how to drive men crazy. She knew how alluring her own sexuality was.

I smiled. Then I laughed, feeling like I was on top of the world. But even as I danced in my tall stilettos, reality beckoned.

My feet were killing me, and I’d barely eaten anything all evening. I’d been too afraid of getting something on the couture gown that I’d been allowed to borrow from a famous designer.

I took off my dress, making sure to hang it up, and sighed with relief when I took off my shoes. I flexed my toes.

I knew I looked hot in heels, but damn, why did they have to hurt so much?

I started running a bath. I needed to relax. I knew I wouldn’t sleep a wink if I didn’t make myself chill out.

I found some bubble bath and soon sank into the hot water. I made a happy noise of contentment.

I let my thoughts wander, but despite my best efforts, I couldn’t stop thinking about Brady. The way he’d pulled me into his arms. How strong he’d felt. How he’d kissed me until my brain had turned to mush.

When we’d been interrupted, I’d almost wanted Brady to keep on kissing me no matter who was watching us. But Brady had sworn under his breath and stalked away like he’d been doused in ice water.

Hadn’t Brady told me he wouldn’t keep doing the hot-and-cold act with me? I snorted. So much for that promise.

As I soaked in the tub, my thoughts returned to the night at the club when Brady had spanked me. I’d been nervous when he’d taken me into that room. I’d almost been tempted to call his bluff and go home.

But when he’d bent over my knee, pulling my dress up to my hips, exposing me to his gaze and his touch ... it’d felt like I’d fallen into a whirlpool of sensation.

Then he’d begun spanking me. It’d hurt, but there’d been something so pleasurable about the experience, too. Every smack had ratcheted up my desire for him.

The worst part had been that he hadn’t touched my pussy. I’d been vibrating with need when he’d stopped. I’d half expected to come right then and there since I’d been so turned on.

I reached through the water to stroke a finger through my folds. I was wet just at remembering how Brady had spanked me. I sighed.

I imagined that next time, he’d paddle me. He’d start slowly, teasing me with light smacks, scolding me when I moved too much.

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