Page 24 of Captive Lies

And my heart just melted into a puddle. Getting scorched by a lust-filled stare was one thing, but when his eyes warmed with tenderness, they were actually morelethal.

I held out a spoonful of mousse to him but he shook his head and instead continued to stare atme.

“You’re making me self-conscious,” I chided, lowering my gaze to the ground as I felt a blush steal up mycheek.

“I just love watching you,” he murmured. “Sueme.”

I shook my head in amusement and finished my mousse. Grant told me he’d pack up our lunch and I should finish mysketches.

He laid back on the blanket and closed his eyes. He untucked his white tee to cover his erection. Poor man. I resumed drawing, but I was finding it hard toconcentrate.

All I could imagine was Grant fucking me the way he laid it out over lunch. And it didn’t help that his fingers were lightly brushing my leg as he relaxed. After an hour, I hadn’t really gotten anywhere because I kept erasing what Idrew.

“That’s it,” Ifumed.

Grant’s eyes popped open. “What, baby?” he mumbledsleepily.

“Let’s go,” I announced. “I need my mannaked.”

We couldn’t leave that park fastenough.

* * *

Grant hauledme into the house and kicked the door close. Then his hands grabbed my face and slammed his mouth on mine, stealing my breath. I dropped my things to the floor as his body pushed me deeper into the house and I had no choice but to scuttle backward. His hands left my face and ripped my top from my body, and as he gripped the bottom of his tee, my own hands swept under it, desperate to touch his bareskin.

We were a tangle of frantic limbs and lust. My nails raked down his shoulders even as his fingers worked my jeans. He bore me down to the living room floor, kneeling before me as he stripped me of my clothes, cursing as he encountered a problem removing my boots. I didn’t know how he got them off, he might have ruined them, but then my back slid on the area rug as he peeled off my jeans along with my panties. He tore off his belt, dropped it to the floor and unbuttoned hisjeans.

Feral eyes roved over my form before he wrenched my legs apart and plunged his fingers in my pussy, growling as my back arched with the invasion. I writhed beneath his hungry gaze, his wicked fingers, plunging and seeking, my breath hitching as he pressed against my sweet spot. Arousal flooded my entrance and then with my legs on his shoulders, he lifted my hips off the floor and buried his face between mythighs.

His tongue tore through me, licking my slit, lapping at my sensitive folds. He sucked on my clit and I came on his tongue, gushing, slicked and slippery, and he ate all of me. I couldn’t count the times he brought me to orgasm, all I knew was I was begging for him to stop. That I couldn’t take anymore and I needed him insideme.

Grant finally pulled back and his hand gripped my ankle, and with the other on my hip, he flipped me over. His hard chest hit my back, curling an arm under my belly as he pulled me up to all fours. I felt his hand work between us and the sound of his zipper ratcheted up my anticipation. The head of his cock swiped at my entrance once, twice and then he plunged deep, stretching me with the silky hardness of hisshaft.

He took me fast and hard. His thrust so deep and powerful, that if he wasn’t holding me up, I would have flattened on the floor. Grant’s hand moved to my breast, squeezing, then he dragged me upright and my ass was on his lap. His hand shifted to my jaw, turning my head into his kiss as he continued to fuck me. His front to my back, sliding me up and down on his cock, we were reduced to skin stroking against skin, breath and sweat mingling, two people moving to the symphony of grunts and moans. And as our climax crashed around us, we continued our dance until our rhythm turned erratic and the movements ebbed. Grant kissed my shoulder and dropped his head in the crook of my neck, maintaining our connection as if he didn’t want us to be parted. Minutes passed before he lifted me off his lap and carried me to the couch. He stretched beside me and tucked me close. Neither of us said a word as we absorbed the aftermath of our intensecoupling.

* * *

Ilistenedto his steady breathing. Grant had fallen asleep, so I decided to clean up. I freed myself from our naked embrace. Well, I was naked and he still had his jeans on. How was that fair? He mumbled in protest but didn’t even open his eyes. I climbed over him and got off the couch, staring at him for a while. No man deserved to look that handsome. A pang of regret swept through me again. I wished circumstances were different, but this thing with Grant wasn’t going anywhere unless Liam found away.

Forcing myself to turn away, I bent over to pick up his white shirt, inhaled his scent like a stalker and decided to put it on. I collected my clothes and padded to the foyer where I had dropped my backpack and sketchpad. Balancing all the items in my arms, I made my way to the room Grant had converted into my art studio. I lowered my backpack on the chair and the sketchpad on the drawing table and that was when I spotted it. A rectangular package covered in brownpaper.

Baffled, I picked it up. My name was scripted on the paper in Grant’s handwriting. Curious now, I tore off the wrapper to reveal a plain looking box. I flipped open the top and my breathcaught.

Tubes of Medici paints laid neatly side byside.

“How?” I whispered to the four walls of theroom.

“I tracked down Stephen Vasari,” a voice said behind me. Grant stood there, leaning against the door frame, shirtless, with his jeans stillundone.

Words congested in my throat and tears burned behind my eyes as the sheer perfection of the day overwhelmed me—this beautiful man before me, this box in my hands that held the breath to my art, this life I desperately wanted to hold onto.

“Grant,” I choked as I looked at him through a blur of emotions while trying to keep my face fromcrumpling.

He straightened and approached cautiously. “I convinced him to create these colors foryou.”

“I don’t know what tosay…”

“You’ll be happy to know that his grandson will be continuing his paint making craft, but it won’t be available for another year,” he continued speaking as if I weren’t about to fall apart in front of him. “I hope what’s in that box will hold you until then, but he agreed to make you some more if they’re notenough.”

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