Page 11 of Grant
“So not my point.”
“Then what is?”
Spencer took a deep breath. “You cooked me dinner and tried to cheer me up. Yet you were in that accident simply because I asked White Knight Security for help. You could have died in that wreck.”
“So could you, but you’re worried aboutmebeing hurt?”
“I don’t want to see you hurt,” Spencer muttered. “Is that so perplexing?”
Beet-red wasn’t a colour that suited the doctor, but Grant found it as illuminating as Spencer’s refusal to meet his gaze. “Not at all. More wine?”
“Morning, Grant! Breakfast will be just a minute. Help yourself to coffee.” Spencer threw him a distracted smile and turned back to the stove.
Damn! Sleep-ruffled Spencer is sexy as fuck!Grant had slept little after their dinner conversation. Spencer’s concern for his welfare had blended with the image of a bare-skinned, shadowed figure behind water-streaked glass to ruin his rest. And now here stood chocolate-eyed temptation in shorts and a T-shirt, offering coffee and breakfast.
Spencer Corel would be his ruin.
Grant was self-sufficient. He made his living keeping others safe. He didn’t need looking after. But it was damned nice when it happened.
He drank his first coffee leaning against the window, pretending to watch the traffic passing Spencer’s house.
The view across the kitchen was much more enjoyable, but Grant kept his gaze averted. Spencer was a client. Pinning him to the wall or bending him over the nearest table would be the height of unprofessional behaviour. Especially since they still had a stalker to find.
Luca’s text had come at four that morning. He’d been the one following Carlo Sigismund, and he was adamant the man hadn’t gone near the hospital or Spencer’s car.
The only positive aspect of the previous days’ attacks was more evidence to present to the police. And Luca’s contact in the force had told him they were taking the threat seriously.
Grant wished they’d work faster.
He also wished they’d take their time, because spending his days with Spencer was becoming his goal in life.
“Eggs and bacon?” Spencer waved the spatula to attract his attention.
“Eggs and bacon,” Grant agreed, caught in the intense gaze of Spencer’s dark eyes.
Twenty minutes later, Grant wanted to run. Wanted to pound pavement until he lost himself in the exertion and stopped fantasising about Spencer. He couldn’t go running, though. His place was in Spencer’s home, watching Spencer’s back.
He groaned. Yeah, that visual he could do without.
With running out of the question, he reached for a jump rope and headed out onto the deck.
The rhythmic slap of the rope soothed his agitation. He wasn’t wearing headphones—he never did when he was on a job—but he imagined song after song from his playlist. He slowed and sped the rope to keep time, added twirls and crossovers, and fancy steps until nothing existed but the deck, the rope, and the beats in his mind.
When he resurfaced, muscles warm and loose, Spencer leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He’d watched Grant skipping and didn’t hide that he liked what he saw. The bulge in his shorts was impressive, and the half-opened lips were an invitation.
Grant didn’t stop to think. He crossed the deck until he was close enough to feel the heat from Spencer’s body.
Spencer lifted his chin and met Grant’s eyes. Then he wet his lips with the tip of his tongue.
The air caught fire, and Grant was done. He cupped Spencer’s neck and hauled him across the few inches still separating them until he finally … finally! … got to taste the man.
From the first touch of lips to the moment he wanted to rip Spencer’s shorts off and bury himself in his arse, this wasn’t a gentle kiss. This was hot and hungry, hard and grinding, and so damn good…
Grant staggered back, breath sawing in and out of his chest as if he’d run a race. He stared at Spencer, eyes dark, lips wet and bruised. And saw the surprise he felt stare back at him. Attraction, desire, raging lust—whatever this was, it had snared them both.
And that wasn’t a good idea.
Chapter Five
