Page 46 of New Girl in Town
“Yes, excited because I might be putting on clothes now, but,” I said, stopping in the doorway of the dressing room and looking back at him my shoulder, “you can rest assured that I plan on taking yours off later.”
Grant barked out a laugh, attracting the attention of nearby shoppers. He jabbed a finger at the dressing room.
“Get in there and get changed.”
“I’m going, I’m going,” I interrupted, waving a hand over my shoulder at him as I went.
“So I can get you home and undress you.” His voice was rough, gravel scratching under bare feet, and my stomach somersaulted at the sound of it. I glanced back at him, half in the dressing room, and had to reach out to brace myself against the door frame at the look of pure need in his summer sky blue eyes. I stumbled forward, snatching up my clothes and spinning on my heel as I thrust the boots and clothes I had decided on into his arms. I grabbed hold of his elbow and pulled him along with me. Grant came willingly because, as strong as I was, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he wouldn’t go anywhere he didn’t want.
“Aren’t you changing?” he asked as I hustled toward the checkout line.
“Nope,” I replied, already waving down an idle cashier, “I’m taking it all.” I even snatched the tag off the too-big flannel and ripped it off, holding it out to the cashier with a shrug. “Sorry,” I said, but the cashier smirked at my expression, which had a definitely not sorry look to it.
She bit back a smile as she scanned my purchases. “In a hurry to get home?” Her question was innocent but her eyes danced between Grant and me, especially where I had a death grip on the man’s arm.
I nodded, handing over my credit card. “In a big way.”
“That’s wonderful, honey,” she told me with a sigh and a wistful look in her eyes. “Get it in for all of us.”
Grant’s mouth dropped open at her comment. I winked at her, taking my bags and card back. “You have my word. At least twice before lunch.”
“You’re doing the lord's work. Bless you,” the woman called after us while Grant followed me, mouth still open. I waved at her and grinned at the dazed look on his face.
“I feel objectified,” he told me, opening my truck door and handing me my bags.
“You love it,” I replied, kissing his cheek.
He sighed and then nodded. “I do.” I laughed, but my laughter was cut short when he leaned close to me, his lips pressing against my jawline in a kiss that had me moaning.
“Let’s get home so you can do your civic duty,” he whispered, eyes dark.
We broke the speed limit on our way home, but I was willing to bet the threat of a ticket was worth it. When we arrived in front of our apartment building, I could scarcely breathe. I cut my eyes to the man next to me and felt a heat sweep over me that I was fast becoming accustomed to when it came to Grant St. John. I felt a wave of giddiness overtake me when his hand hit mine.
This man was mine. Mine. The thought made my heart pound and my blood swirl in my veins when I turned to catch his eye. He grinned at me, the gesture so boyish in its appearance, and I found myself smiling back. Though he stole my sunny smile when he caught me in his arms and pressed me against the truck, his mouth and tongue hot on mine while he grinded against me. I gasped into his mouth, feeling his hands on me, his erection pushing up against my thigh.
Shifting my hips, I wiggled closer, legs parting around him. Groaning, he moved in, body crowding mine and arms caging me in as he captured my mouth in another searing kiss. The cool metal of the truck at my back with his warm body pressed close like a second skin had me dizzy, and I clung to him as we kissed.
Grant was my anchor. My everything in this moment. I gasped against him when I felt his hands slid up under my shirt.
“We have to—” I began.
“Get inside. Yours.” Grant kissed me again, his tongue hot against mine, and I groaned, leaning into him and not hating that he supported my weight as we walked forward. That lasted for all of four steps until he scooped me up in his arms and held me tight as he kicked open the door and stumbled up the stairs toward my apartment.
I felt drunk; I felt alive. God, I never wanted it to end.
The door to my apartment slammed against the wall as we tumbled inside in a heap of tangled limbs and locked lips. I hadn’t felt this anxious to get in bed since I was a teenager, and I cried out when Grant’s hand palmed against my aching cunt. I needed this. I needed every last thing this man could offer me. I wanted to be wrung out like a sponge and then some.
“Grant...” My voice came out in a whimper when he kicked the door closed and pulled me into another embrace, his mouth and teeth scraping against my collarbone as he bent low, hands working on unbuttoning my jeans.
“Say my name like that,” he whispered, breath hot on my skin as he kissed his way down my neck.
My fingers tightened in his hair. “Grant.”
He snapped his hips against mine. “Sounds so pretty saying my name.”
“I need you,” I told him, arching up into his touch. He pulled back and his eyes met mine, brown against blue, want, need, and desire crackling between us like a firestorm. He groaned when I repeated my words. “I need you.”
“How do you want me, baby?”
