Page 28 of The Grinder

This girl might look sweet and innocent but her kisses could melt stone. Or make flesh hard as rock, which was what his cock felt like right now. A throbbing, stiff column of granite.

And now she was rolling her hips against his, pressing her mound against his erection and making him see stars behind his closed eyelids.

Turning his head so he could talk, he caught his breath as her lips pressed against his cheek and back until she sank her teeth into his earlobe.

“Fuck. Aly, hold up.”

“Don’t want to,” she whispered in his ear. “Are you getting cold feet?”

“Honey, nothing on me’s cold right now. I just need to hear you say yes.”

Her soft laughter in his ear made him shudder.

“I guess the fact that I’m practically getting myself off rubbing against you right now isn’t enough of a hint.” As he practically swallowed his tongue, she licked his earlobe then put her lips right against his ear. “Yes.”

His arms tightened around her and he had a quick second to say “Hang on” before he turned and headed for the first piece of furniture that looked sturdy. He’d broken a sofa arm once, practically ripped it off with some yoga instructor who’d been the bendiest person he’d ever met.

And there was the chair he and some puck bunny had busted in some hotel room in…oh hell, he didn’t give a fuck where right now.

All he wanted was to get Aly to the couch.

Luckily, he had a clean shot straight to it, and when he finally had his ass planted on it, he had Aly right where he wanted her. With her knees spread on either side of his hips and his hands spread across her back, keeping her close.

Not that she seemed to want to go anywhere.

Her hands rose to cup his jaw and she brought their mouths back together for another one of those breath-stealing, heart-stopping kisses.

He had a brief second to wonder if he was the one being seduced instead of the other way around. Then he realized he’d be okay with that.

But only because it was Aly.

That didn’t mean he was just going to sit there while she kissed her way down his jaw to his neck and made his hands tighten on her hips.

Fuck that.

Sliding his hands under her shirt, he spread his fingers across her bare skin and let the warmth of her body seep into his.

She let out a little moan as she rose onto her knees, her hands tugging on his hair until he complied and let his head fall back. She followed, her hands releasing his hair so she could slide her fingers into the back of his shirt.

He wore a dress shirt but hadn’t bothered with his tie so the first few buttons were already undone. She took full advantage by sliding her hands around his neck to the buttons he had done up and started slipping them through their holes.

When she’d gotten almost to the top of his pants, she sat back and let their gazes connect.

The half-smile on her face made it hard for him to breathe.

“I didn’t realize there’d be layers.” She tilted her head, silky hair sliding over her shoulder. “Good thing I’m dedicated to finishing what I started.”

The husky tone of her voice sliced straight through to his gut, making his muscles clench as she pushed the shirt off his shoulders then stared at him with raised eyebrows.

He knew what she wanted and leaned forward just enough for her to push it all the way down his arms so he could push it over his hands. He left it crumpled behind him, immediately forgotten.

His lips curved in a smile as she contemplated his plain white undershirt. He figured she’d say something about how unsexy it was when the corners of her mouth tilted up and she shot him a look that made his skin sizzle.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret.” She trailed her fingers over the neckline, barely brushing his skin. “Women think guys who wear undershirts are hot.”

Smiling at the amusement in her voice, he figured she was teasing him. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Well, you know how guys like women in sexy lingerie? Some women think guys look just as hot in t-shirts and tight boxers. The way they cling to your muscles.” She ran her fingers over his pecs and barely brushed his nipples. “It makes me want to stroke my hands along the fabric and feel what’s beneath.”

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