Page 16 of Grant
Spencer wasn’t in much better shape. When Grant reached for Spencer’s cock, he found him hard and leaking, straining into Grant’s fist.
It broke his brain.
He let his inner caveman off the leash and rutted against Spencer, thrust after thrust after thrust, sliding his fist over Spencer’s cock in counterpoint.
Spencer keened and clenched around Grant. He arched over the couch, chasing his orgasm, until Grant read his frustration in the movements of his body and heard it in his cries.
He slapped Spencer’s arse. Hard.
It was enough to send Spencer over the edge and have Grant follow right after.
The room was silent for a long time, while they both returned to earth.
“Fuck, that was good.” Spencer hung like a wet rag over the back of the couch. “Can we do it again?”
Grant pulled out. “You’re great for my ego.” He admired the handprint on Spencer’s right arse cheek, the finger-shaped bruises on his hips. The doc wouldn’t forget Grant for at least a few days. “I’m all for round two, but how about a shower first?”
“That sounds heavenly.” Spencer pushed himself upright and sent a sated little smile Grant’s way. “Don’t you wish all disaster days would end like this?”
“How did you know what my favourite wine is?” Spencer asked when he saw the bottle Grant held. After making use of Grant’s oversized shower, Spencer had needed a drink more than he needed dinner. He hadn’t expected Grant to bring a bottle of Azevedo to bed with him.
“I’m in the business of knowing things. Or finding them out.” Grant handed Spencer the glasses. “Though I can’t claim points for this one. Fritz noticed your wine rack and the wine you had the most of.”
The simple explanation didn’t lessen Spencer’s unease. He was attracted to Grant. Loved talking to him, cooking for him, being the focus of Grant’s attention. And if their earlier encounter was anything to go by, their chemistry was combustible. But how safe was a man who’d sniffed out most of Spencer’s likes and dislikes after only a couple of days? Who had taken Spencer to his own home and stocked Spencer’s favourite wine?
“I’ve never had a client in my home. We have a guesthouse in the grounds for that,” Grant said, proving he could mind-read, too. “I didn’t want to leave you alone after the crap that happened this week, and I wanted you to feel comfortable. Which is why I made Fritz get me sandwich fixings from Boltoni’s, and triple choc and sea salt deep dish cookies.”
“Topflight customer service, that. Nothing but the best.”
“You know it.”
They clinked glasses. Spencer took a sip, leaned into the pillows, and took stock. His life was a mess, his emotions all over the place. Fritz had warned him the stalker might step up the attacks when Spencer showed he had protection. Spencer had accepted that risk. He hadn’t thought he’d put Grant in the line of fire.
“Penny for them?”
Grant. Noticing his preoccupation, of course. He’d been told that he was closed off and difficult to read, yet Grant read him just fine. Spencer had never clicked so fast with anyone, and it amazed and scared him at once. He found a smile and turned his head, meeting Grant’s deep blue gaze. “Just … rummaging around in my head.”
“Bad habit, that.”
“You think so?”
“With your stressful job? Yeah.”
When Spencer looked past the broad shoulders and trim waist, when he ignored the blue eyes, and the enticing scruff, he saw scars. Thin, almost invisible ones. Larger tears and rips that had left silvery lines. And those that jumped right out at him. “You’re telling me your job wasn’t stressful?”
Grant laughed. “It was plenty stressful. That’s why I don’t rummage around in my head. I’m one of the lucky ones, I suppose. I take each op as it happens, review it when it’s over, draw my conclusions, and move on.”
“Bullshit.” That came out with more force than Spencer had intended, and he held out a hand, almost in apology. “You compartmentalise well,” he said, “but you dream like the rest of us.”
Grant’s body relaxed at the use of ‘us’, and Spencer knew that admitting his fears had been the right way to go. It wasn’t far enough, though. Sex with Grant had done much to quench Spencer’s fury, but it hadn’t sated the wanting. The curl of heat in his belly left him twitchy. His skin felt too tight, and he wanted his hands back on Grant.
When Grant slid deeper into the cushions, he swung a leg over Grant’s, and planted himself squarely in Grant’s lap.
Grant settled his hands on Spencer’s hips. Otherwise, though, he didn’t move, leaving Spencer to do as he pleased.
Spencer loved it. He’d wanted to touch and tease, and a bare skinned Grant was a sight to behold. Spencer felt like a little boy in a sweet shop.
“A genuine, honest-to-God eight pack!” He trailed his fingers over Grant’s rippling muscles. “Even in my line of work, I don’t see too many of these.”
