"Because I'm crazy about you, little one." His eyes glow with sincerity and with something darker. Possession. Jealousy. "When I saw you glowing the next morning, I knew I couldn't let anyone else be the reason for that. Ithadto be me. So I called again. And I kept callin'."
I open my mouth and then snap it closed, not a single word coming to mind. He's stolen all of them. My heart pounds against my breastbone, butterflies dancing a ballet in my stomach.
"I fucking love being the reason you have that look in your eye every day." He swallows hard. "I should have told you the truth. I'm an asshole for not telling you the truth. I didn't want you to hate me."
"I don't hate you," I whisper. How can I? Every single night, he made it about me. I'm not sure he if ever even allowed himself to orgasm from our calls. If so, I never heard him. He was always focused on pleasing me.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but you should know I don't regret callin' you." He blows out a breath. "If you want to kick my ass for it, I won't stop you."
"I don't want that," I say, quickly shaking my head. I want him. Short of throwing myself into his arms, I'm not sure how to tell him that, though. I've never had a hard time finding words, but this is different.Grangeris different.
"You're not mad?"
I shake my head, completely mute.
He searches my face, his brows furrowed, eyes narrowed and focused. Whatever he finds in my expression seems to reassure him. His eyes darken, his rigid stance loosening.
"I'm going to kiss you now," he says.
"Please," I sob.
The last vestiges of worry in his eyes vanish, leaving nothing but wicked intent in their place. He snakes an arm around my waist, pulling me up against him.
His lips descended on mine, his kiss warm and soft.
"Open for me, sweetheart," he demands, flicking his tongue against my bottom lip.
I obey his request, pressing my mouth to his and allowing him inside. He cups the back of my neck, angling my head as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding sinuously against mine.
"Mm," he groans into my mouth, pulling me closer as my knees buckle.
I gasp, feeling him everywhere. He feels even better than I imagined he would, hard muscles molding to my softer curves in all the right places. My mind spins from his kiss. It's steam and cinnamon coursing through my veins like a shot of adrenaline.
He pulls back slowly, running his lips along my jaw and onto my throat. His words from the night before echo in my mind, pulling a moan from my lips at the thought of him marking me. I want him to do it. Desperately.
"Granger, please. I want you."
"Are you wet for me, Arwen?" he breathes against my ear, his hands moving to the folds of my towel.
"Yes," I whisper as he rakes his teeth across my throat. Shards of pleasure lance through me, threatening to unmake me. This is really happening. Granger is Tex, and he's really here.
The towel slides from my body, leaving me bare to his questing hands. They work in counterpoint to his mouth—soft lips at my throat, big, rough hands gliding across my damp skin.
My hands land against his broad shoulders, steadying me as he brushes across my nipples and palms my breasts. His mouth follows, pulling first one and then the other nipple between his lips and sucking hard.
I cry out in pleasure at the deep draw of his mouth.
"I know what you need," he croons, lifting his head and urging me back toward my bed. "I know how you need it. Let me give it to you."
I nod willingly, allowing him to draw me down to the bed. My eyes lock on his face as he stares down at me, his expression ravenous. Each sweep of his eyes across my body have me writhing atop the bed. I don't have to ask to know he finds me beautiful. It's written right there on his face.
"Spread your legs and let me see that pretty pussy, baby doll," he murmurs. "Let me see how wet you are for me."
My legs fall open slowly, exposing me to the man who already knows my body so well. He coaxed my deepest desires from me with nothing more than words whispered through the telephone. Learned every fantasy I have with little more than sinful questions and soft growls of satisfaction at each answer willingly given. The thought of him putting that knowledge to use has me more worked up now than I ever was over the phone.
His gaze rakes down my body again, leaving little fires in their wake. "Yes," he groans when his heated gaze finally settles between my legs. He reaches out slowly and runs a thick finger through my soaked folds. "So goddamn wet," he murmurs, bringing his finger to his lips to taste me.
I writhe when he growls and sucks his finger clean.