Page 13 of Grind
“Connor.” My voice is a tentative whisper. Why didn’t I leave when I had the chance? Why did I touch a stranger, completely unprovoked and without his permission? I practically poked a sleeping tiger, and now I’m trapped between his hard body and the soft leather of his couch.
His face immediately softens when I say his name.
“Ava. I’m sorry. I’m not used to being woken up by a beautiful woman.” He voice is thick with sleep, but he gives me a real smile. That damn dimple taunts. He doesn’t seem like he’s in a hurry to move.
“Somehow I doubt that,” I manage to squeak. There’s no way this gorgeous man doesn’t have a parade of women in and out of his life.
Is there?
“You’re the first woman that’s spent the night here,” he says quietly, his body still pressed over mine.
Our eyes meet for a second and he looks surprised at the confession. My heart still pounds. His eyes rest on my forehead like he’s suddenly working hard not to make eye contact, to collect himself.
“Did you think I was one of your bad guys?” Talking to fill the space, to lighten the mood, but honestly I don’t even know what I’m saying.
My hands move up and slide up over his strong shoulders. His muscles are steel under my hands.
His face is unreadable for a moment that seems to stretch into eternity and suddenly I’m afraid I’ve done something wrong. His mouth tightens and the tension builds in his face. I start to tremble beneath him. God, what am I doing? His startling blue eyes finally meet mine.
“Fuck,” he says, his voice even deeper.
Something shifts in that moment.
I haven’t been touched by a man in a very long time, and I’ve never been this close to a man that I find so attractive. Brooks’s whiskey dick always kept things more chaste than he would’ve liked, though I never minded. His touch left me cold, where suddenly I’m totally alive. I shouldn’t want to take this further.
Men are nothing but trouble for me.
Yet every instinct tells me that this man is different, and I wonder if maybe, just maybe, I can claim a little moment of joy for myself before I have to go back to my real life. Even if it’s a mistake.
His body is rigid, and he’s leaning into self-control. It feels like he’s going to shift away.
“Connor,” my voice is rough.
I arch my back in invitation, causing the hem of the shirt to rise even further.
“God,” he curses, and inches his fingers up my leg until he reaches my hip. I’m not wearing anything underneath. Not like I was prepared for an overnight... He swears as he makes this discovery, and leans down to capture my lips with his.
He kisses me gently at first and then fiercely, possessively. I open up to him, his tongue sliding into my mouth. I feel his bulge press against my growing wetness, and suddenly it’s too much. I want Connor and it scares me. A whimper escapes my throat.
He pulls away from me.
His voice is rough with desire, but there’s concern in his eyes. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Nothing’s wrong.
This moment, this man. I just want to lose myself in it. Don’t want to have to think about how I’m going to feel when I land hard back in the middle of the mess that is my life. Tracing the tattoo on his arm, I keep my eyes there. “This just isn’t what I expected.”
That huge grin spreads across his face, invoking those irresistible dimples. “Me neither, sweetheart.”
He kisses me again, more possessive and demanding this time. My body presses into him in response. He watches my face carefully as he strokes my breasts through the shirt fabric. His fingertips linger on my nipples, teasing them, and they harden under his touch.
Faintly, I become aware of a shrill beeping somewhere in the background.
“Jesus, Ava. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”
He pushes himself up, and pulls me over until I’m sitting on his lap. He rests his forehead against mine for just a second, before letting me go. I blush, moving backwards until we’re no longer touching.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around my torso and casting my eyes down.
