Page 25 of The Bloodfeather Promise
“It wasn’t a weak moment. Nor was it a rash decision.”
“How did you meet him? Where?” Noah barks. “Jesus, Emerson. Girls are drugged all the time. How do you know that didn’t happen here?”
“Believe me, Noah. Greyson Finch has no need to drug girls in order to sleep with them.” Devon laughs, blotting her cheeks with a napkin. “What happened, E.J.? I remember you going to the concert because I was so jealous you got tickets. How did you meet him?”
“You guys know Carly’s dad works for the band’s label, which is how we had tickets to begin with. Carly surprised me with tickets to the afterparty. She wanted to do something special for me because of Grandpop and… Justin. Anyway, the party was supposed to be at the band’s hotel, but it changed last minute to some bar on Sunset Strip. The concert was amazing, and I was having so much fun. I wanted to do something crazy and wild.” I mumble against Noah’s chest, “Maybe not that crazy.”
“You were in a bar? Were other people buying your drinks?” Devon takes a gulp of her own beverage.
My jaw tilts and my arms slip from Noah’s waist so I can tend my own tear-streaked face. “Y’all have to understand. He didn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want to do. I wasn’t drunk. Tipsy, maybe, when we arrived at the bar, but I was definitely sober when the fight started.”
“Fight?” Devon interjects with a frown. “Wasn’t that one when Dylan Harrison tried rearranging the guy’s face for him? He quit the band that night even though they made up later. The rags all said it started over a groupie, but it was you, wasn’t it?”
“I may have been the initial cause, but things were much uglier than a rivalry over some random girl.” I quickly run through the details of the brawl then jump back into where Greyson and I ended up in bed together. “By the time we got to his suite, I knew where things were headed. And I definitely knew when he took my shirt off.”
“You said he didn’t know it was your first time—” Noah’s face reddens slightly. “That he doesn’t remember you.”
“He was high. And sorta drunk,” I confess. “I wasn’t.”
Greyson kissedme as if there was nothing he’d rather do on this planet. Slow, long, decadent kisses that explored the flavor of my mouth, the shape of my lips, the dexterity of my tongue and how it equaled the flexibility of his. He drank from me as if I were water and he’d been lost in the desert for centuries searching for relief. We kissed until I was breathless and so lost in him that I didn’t realize he’d maneuvered us into the suite’s dimly lit bedroom and the bed was hitting the back of my knees.
Leaning back, he smiled slightly when I instinctively raised my arms for him. He tugged my drop-shoulder blouse over my head. Rather than remove it completely, he tangled it around my elbows and wrists, turning the fabric into a makeshift noose, then pulled downward until my hands were locked in front of my belly button. It was like wearing soft handcuffs. He had me twisted so expertly, there was no need to hold the material in place. It stayed as if by magic, freeing both his hands, one of which still held the glass of whiskey.
“Is this okay?” he asked softly. When I nodded, he frowned and chided me with a bit of impatience evident in his tone. “Words, sweetheart. Gotta have your words.”
“Yes,” I gasped out.
Another smile, then, with one hand, Greyson unsnapped my bra in the front, pushing the cups away. I shook with need, trying to digest the strength of this unfamiliar emotion. Wide-eyed, I watched as he slowly tilted the glass of whiskey.
Liquid spilled over my bare breasts.
It was cold. And shocking. Eyes dilated with something far more than passion, he waited for my reaction. He was flying so high, and looking at me as if I were the queen of his world. I angled my head, exposing my neck, trembling just the slightest bit. He swallowed the remaining whiskey, tossing the glass aside. Ice cubes rolled soundlessly on the hotel carpet like clear dice, melting into the floor. Then…
Holy hell. He sucked the liquor off me, licking my nipples, my neck, my ears, my shoulders, and collarbone, biting gently, then harder, teeth grazing sensitive flesh while I stood utterly transfixed and so turned on, I thought I might just burst from my skin. When he laid me down on the bed, I went willingly. When he lifted my hands, still bound in my shirt, over my head, and murmured I leave them there, I obeyed. When he reached under my miniskirt and slid my panties down my legs, I whimpered with anticipation. And when he finally whipped my black suede skirt off, I was euphoric with lust, dazed when he growled that he wanted me wearing my black, thigh-high boots and nothing else.
He leaned back for a moment, just looking at me, and I almost forgot to breathe. His gaze felt as though it was physically sliding over my body, starting with my face, moving to my breasts, down to my stomach, then my hips, the junction of my thighs, my legs, my feet. Every inch of my form was subjected to his intense perusal. And he smiled. “No way can I keep to my original plan. I’m gonna want you more than once, and that’s definitely a problem.”
“I don’t understand—” To my ears, my voice sounded shaky with insecurity. Did he like what he saw? He’d been with so many gorgeous women. Models. Actresses. Musicians. I was just an ordinary girl…
Greyson cut me off, taking possession of my lips with such fierceness, I couldn’t remember what my question was anyway.
When he finally eased away, allowing my lungs a much-needed burst of air, he moved further down my body. Nibbling my throat, tracing the pulse in the hollow there, a trail of kisses brushed along my collarbone. The gesture was so achingly sweet, I helplessly closed my eyes against it, wishing it would go on forever. But the best was coming. With an intensity bordering on reverence, he savored the upper swell of my breasts before taking the tip of one into his mouth. His attention alternated between the two, his mouth scorching hot, the hardened buds of my nipples rolled against his tongue. As if memorizing the flavor, Greyson raked his teeth over each peak in slow succession.
Cords of sensation shot straight to my sex. It was amazing and terrifying all at the same time. It was too much all at once, and yet, somehow, not nearly enough. The instant his hand slid into the wet folds at the junction of my thighs, I almost came unglued.
“I saw you at the concert. Backstage with your friend. The redhead. Tell me something, will you? Since I’m curious and hoping I made the right choice.” Greyson interrupted the tantalizing assault on my breasts, his eyes boring into mine while his fingers danced over the heated flesh between my legs. “Are you a better fuck than your friend?”
My brain struggled with forming words. I was nothing but liquid. Fluid and wet. Hot. But he wasn’t fooling me. He never wanted Carly. Not for this. He chose me because of Dylan. Simply because of a bitter rivalry, one I stupidly stumbled into the middle of. Annoyance made my tone sharp. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never fucked her.”
His bark of laughter was unexpected. I watched, my mouth dry, as he reached behind his shoulder with one hand, dragging his torn and bloodied shirt over his head, before tossing it aside. Then his mouth swooped down, claiming mine again, kissing me so hard and so long that it didn’t take long before my head was literally spinning.
I gave up and gave into the sensation, delighting in the swirling of his tongue, how it fought with my own. How he bit at my lips every time I gasped for the little breaths he allowed me. When he pressed me into the soft mattress, there was nothing between his warm, smoothly muscled chest and me. It sent me into spasms of pleasure. And I realized something after many, many minutes of this endless, delicious kissing.
Yes, the shirt was gone, but sweet Jesus, his ripped-up jeans were missing, too. The heat of his bare legs and the rough texture of the hair on his thighs, rubbing against my own smooth ones, startled me. Excited me. I blinked, like a stupid rabbit caught in floodlights. When did he take his jeans off? For that matter, when did he take his shoes off?
His hand ran up the length of my thigh, gripping my hip hard. His gaze touched on my legs, and a tiny shudder racked his body. “Goddamn, these boots are hot.” Finally… finally, my shirt and bra were jerked completely away from my wrists, hurled aside as if they abruptly irritated him. He leaned down just until his wide chest brushed against my nipples. My moan sounded as if he’d just torn it from my lungs and tossed it into the air so it could bounce off the walls.
A hint of awe colored his whisper as he stared into my eyes. “Do you even realize how gorgeous you are?”
