Page 79 of Hot Chocolate & Hitmen

She leans in then, her lips brushing mine, soft and sweet. It’s not the hungry, desperate kiss we’ve shared in the past. This one is different. This one feels like a promise, like she’s finally letting herself believe.

When she pulls back, her eyes are shining, and she rests her head back against my chest, her hand still holding mine.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“For what?”

“For being you. For making me feel like I’m not crazy for wanting this to last.”

I chuckle softly, running a hand through her hair. “You’re not crazy, Grace. You’re perfect.”

We sit there in the quiet for a while, just holding each other, the chaos of everything else fading into the background. This is what I needed. This is what she needed.

Finally, she breaks the silence with a soft giggle. “You know, Teddy and Key are probably dying downstairs, trying not to come up here and crash the moment.”

I groan, but I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. “They better stay grounded or I’m locking the door.”

She laughs, her whole body shaking, and I swear it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard. I hold her tighter, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m glad I have you to myself for a while,” I admit quietly.

She tilts her head back, giving me that teasing smile. “Oh, so you like me all to yourself, huh?”

I nod, not even bothering to deny it. “Yeah. I do. Don’t get me wrong, I love the chaos with the guys, but...this? Just us? It’s different. It’s good.”

Her smile softens, and she presses a hand to my cheek. “I feel the same way.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Grace’s smile widens, that mischievous spark in her eyes as she edges a little closer to me on the bed. Her fingers rest lightly on my knee, and I feel the warmth of her touch seep through my jeans. She leans in, her voice dropping to a soft murmur, her breath brushing my cheek.

“I was thinking,” she starts, her fingers tracing slow circles over my thigh. “We really haven’t gotten any alone time…”

Her words send a surge of heat through me, making my pulse quicken. I know exactly where she’s going with this, and it takes all my restraint to keep myself from pulling her into my lap right then and there.

“I like the way you think,” I say, my voice rougher than I intended.

She lets out a soft laugh, the sound teasing, as she leans in closer, her lips brushing the side of my neck. “I thought you might.”

I don’t wait anymore. My hand moves to her waist, pulling her closer, my fingers slipping beneath her shirt to feel the warmth of her skin. She’s so soft, so perfect. The way she moves against me, slow and teasing, is driving me insane.

“Come here,” I growl, tugging her onto my lap, and she lets out a surprised little gasp before her legs straddle my waist, her hands resting on my shoulders.

For a second, we just look at each other, her silver-blue eyes searching mine, something deep and raw between us. I can feel it–a pull, something more than just desire, something that goes beyond the physical.

I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing her cheeks as I lean in to kiss her, slow and deliberate. She melts into me, her lips parting as our mouths meet, the kiss deepening almost instantly. Her hands slide up my chest, tangling in my hair, and I groan into her mouth, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between us.

Grace grinds against me, her hips moving slowly, teasingly, and I can feel the heat of her through her thin shorts. It’s enough to drive me out of my mind, but I force myself to take it slow, to savor every moment. I want this to last. I want her to feel every single second.

“Atlas,” she whispers against my lips, her voice breathless. “I need you.”

Her words send a jolt of desire straight through me. I tighten my grip on her waist, my hands sliding under her shirt, lifting it higher until I can pull it over her head. She’s not wearing a bra, and the sight of her, bare and beautiful in front of me, makes my chest tighten with something that goes far beyond lust.

“Beautiful,” I murmur, my hands sliding up her sides, cupping her breasts, my thumbs brushing over her nipples. She gasps, her back arching, pressing herself closer to me.

“Atlas…” Her voice is barely a whisper. Her eyes are half-lidded as she moves against me, her body responding to every touch, every brush of my hands.

I lean down, kissing her neck, trailing my lips lower until I can take one of her nipples into my mouth. She moans, her fingers tightening in my hair, her hips grinding harder against me. I can feel how wet she is through the fabric, and it’s taking everything in me not to flip her over and take her right now. But I want to make this last. I want her to feel every inch of me, to know how much she means to me.

---