Page 128 of Divorced from Number Thirty-Eight
He watches my lips move, a furrow of concentration on his gorgeous face before he mouths back, “Probably.”
I make a shooing motion.
He grins then winks at me.
But before he skates away, his eyes go hot again and he mouths,
“Like the jersey, Red.”
Forty-One
Gray
“Perfect,” I say, leaning back enough for Faye to see the number on the scale. “See?”
She grins. “Learning the difference between grams and cups, are you now?”
“Turns out grams is a more accurate measurement for baking.”
“Hmm.” She comes close, her breasts pushing against my arm, her scent in my nose, her lush body in the Grizzlies jersey with my name on her back.
Fuck, I’m a caveman.
I love the sound of my name on her tongue, her lips…
But seeing it emblazoned between her shoulder blades may be even better.
“Where’d you learn that from?” she asks, stroking her hand along my side.
“From a very smart, very sexy”—I turn, take her in my arms—“woman.”
“And whom may that be?”
I nip at her bottom lip, dip my fingers beneath the hem of the jersey, trailing them up her bare thighs. “She’s an author,” I murmur, bending and tasting her lips, her jaw, her throat. “She knows all sorts of things.”
“Like big words?” A breathless question.
“And proper comma placement.”
She shivers. “Ah, Gray, you sure know how to talk dirty to a woman.”
Laughter bubbles up in my chest, glazes her skin with the damp heat of my amusement.
Her hands dive into my hair, holding me against her as I suckle at the fluttering pulse point at the base of her neck, as my fingers drift higher and find that she’s not wearing any underwear.
The burst of need at finding that slick pussy bare to me means I’m no longer thinking about banana bread, about the newest recipe we’re testing out, trying to replicate her Nana’s deliciousness.
Nope.
I’m only thinking about tight, wet heat, about my name in the air, about her nails biting into my skin as she?—
“Gray!” she gasps as I lift her up in one smooth motion. And then she gasps again…probably because I haven’t stopped to settle her on the counter.
No, I’ve kept going…
Higher.
Higher.
