Page 63 of Blame It on the Bikini
It was suddenly all so simple. "I don't want you to sleep on the floor. I want you in the bed with me. I want to pick up where we left off earlier."
"Are you sure? I don't want this to happen just because there's one bed."
"That's not the reason. I want to be with you. I know that might not be the smartest idea, but I don't want to think about anything else right now. I just want us to be together," she said, looking into his eyes. When he didn't answer right away, she added, "And if you say no, you are definitely not getting a pillow."
He smiled at her nervous joke. "You think I'm going to say no? Do I look like I'm crazy?"
"Well, you haven't said yes."
"I wanted to be certain you didn't have anything else to say. I don't want you to feel pressured."
"I'm actually starting to feel like I'm pressuring you."
"You're not. But once I say yes, we are not going to be talking for a while, so if there's anything that needs to be said…"
His words sent a rush of desire through her. "I'm done talking. And I'm over having to stop kissing you when I really want to keep going?—"
He cut off whatever else she might have had to say by crushing her mouth in a hot, feverish, demanding kiss that matched the need that had been building in her for weeks. She met his passion with her own, feeling dizzy with a hunger that seemed to grow with each kiss.
When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers.
"Lexie," he said, her name a whisper full of promise and longing.
"I know," she breathed. "I feel it too."
She began unbuttoning his shirt, her fingers trembling slightly.
He caught her hands, stilling them. "Are you really sure?"
"I've never been more certain of anything in my life."
He smiled and then picked her up, surprising her with the move. He carried her a few steps to the bed and gently put her down on the mattress, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper, something that created a lump in her throat because she'd never had anyone look at her the way he was looking at her, like he saw her, he really saw her, and he liked what he saw, not just her looks, but who she was on the inside.
"You're beautiful," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"I thought we weren't going to talk."
He smiled at that, slow and devastating, and leaned down to kiss her again, telling her without words exactly how he felt.
Lexie woke up Monday morning to the sound of Grayson's quiet breathing and the soft sunlight filtering through the cabin windows. For a moment, she lay perfectly still, savoring the weight of his arm around her waist, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead, the sexy morning stubble on his jaw, the peaceful expression that she'd never seen on his face when he was awake.
Their night together had been so much more than she'd imagined it could be. First times could be awkward, out of sync, but not with Grayson. Their bodies had moved together as if they'd been making love for years, as if they knew exactly what the other needed and when they needed it.
The man she knew to be driven, purposeful, and determined had brought all those traits to bed, loving her in a way she'd never been loved before, but he'd also been teasing and fun, and after they'd made love, they'd talked long into the night. She'd hated when sleep had finally caught up with her because she'd wanted to enjoy every minute, knowing they were on borrowed time.
But now the night was over, and she was a little sad about that, which made her realize there could be more hurt coming her way. It was the choice she'd made to have the night with Grayson, and she wouldn't regret it, no matter what came next.
Grayson suddenly shifted, his eyes flickering open, his lips parting with a smile when he saw her face.
"Good morning," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.
"Good morning yourself," she said, turning in his arms to face him properly.
"How did you sleep?" he asked.
"Better than I have in weeks," she admitted. "But I was pretty tired by the time we finally fell asleep."
"You're not complaining, are you?"
