Page 16 of Dating the Rebel
WHATTHEHELLwas she doing?
Grant Snyder. That was what she was doing—or rather, whom. That kiss on the beach had just been the start of this, of a quick trip to his hotel with his hand sliding over her thigh as they rode in the back of a limo. Then a fast ride up in the elevator, their bodies brushing against each other’s with the upward motion. If they had been alone...
But there had been other guests.
So it had continued with nearly a trot down the hall to open the door of a seaside suite that looked out onto the starry sky and the water reflecting it. She stood at the windows, staring at that view—not just the view outside but at Grant’s image reflected in the glass.
He was so damn good-looking, his skin such a golden tan against that white shirt he wore. She wanted it off him, wanted nothing between them.
But he’d no more closed the door than there had been a knock at it. He’d opened it to a room service trolley. A bill passed from his hand to the waiter’s. “Thank you, Mr. Snyder,” the young man gratefully replied. “Let us know if there’s anything else you need.”
“I have everything I need,” Grant assured him as the waiter stepped into the hall and he closed the door on him. Then he turned back toward her. “Unless you’ve changed your mind...”
She should have. She’d had sufficient time to come to her senses, but she didn’t want to. Not yet. She was tired of being good, of being so responsible for so long...as she’d been these many months since she’d bought the business from her mother. She needed a break from those responsibilities.
From reality.
She would pretend that this was just a dream—one of the many, many fantasies she’d had about Grant Snyder all those years ago. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, and when she opened her eyes again, he was standing behind her. His hands hovered over her shoulders, but he didn’t touch her yet...as if he didn’t dare.
She’d actively participated when he’d kissed her on the beach. But maybe he wanted her to make the first move now so that he knew she was sure.
She was more than consenting; she was eager.
She turned toward him and lifted her hands to his chest. He tensed as if he expected her to push him away. But instead she reached for the buttons on his shirt, tugging them through the holes until his shirt parted, exposing sculpted muscles with a light dusting of golden hair.
He had to work out all the time to look that damn good. And he looked so damn good that she couldn’t wait to work him out. She leaned forward and skimmed her lips across his chest.
His heart leaped beneath her touch, and he audibly sucked in a breath. “Damn, Miranda...”
“Have you changed your mind?” she asked him, but her lips curved into a smile as she slid her hand down to where his erection strained the fly of his dress pants.
He groaned. “You’re such a tease.”
“Oh, I’m not teasing,” she assured him. She wanted him too badly to back out now. But she stepped back and then she turned around.
“You’re not?” he asked, his voice gruff with passion.
“No. I’m getting impatient.”
He chuckled. “So you’re turning your back on me?”
“I’m waiting for you to unzip me.” She could have reached it herself, but it was more fun this way...to have his fingers gliding down her bare spine as he lowered the zipper. He was so damn good that he unclasped her bra at the same time. The dress pooled around her waist—until she shimmied her hips and it dropped to the floor. She stepped out of it and her shoes before turning back around to him. Then she lowered the unhooked bra until she stood before him wearing only her thong.
“Damn, Miranda,” he said again, but his voice sounded as if he was strangling.
Maybe desire was choking him like it was her. Just his fingertips on her bare back had her nipples tight and pointed toward him. If he touched her anywhere else...
And then he did, with just one fingertip.
He slid it under her chin and tipped it up. Ignoring her naked body, he stared deeply into her eyes and asked, “Are you sure?”
Warmth moved through her, through her heart, and a smile curved her lips. Maybe Grant Snyder was not the rogue she’d always thought he was. When she was younger, that might have disappointed her. But now she was impressed.
“Very sure,” she replied. She’d wanted him too long to not take him when she had the chance. And to prove how sure she was, she unclasped his belt and pulled it free of his pants. Then she reached for his zipper, and as she pulled it down, she stroked her fingers over his hard erection.
He groaned.
“What about you?” she asked. “Are you sure?” She pushed down his boxers along with his pants, freeing his cock. It was long and thick and nearly pulsating with the same need that throbbed inside her.
