His hands found her waist immediately, steadying her, pulling her into him.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi."
Riley kissed him before either of them could say anything else—no questions, no hesitation, just want.
The kiss deepened fast, going from sweet to desperate in seconds. Grant's hands slid under her coat, under her sweater, finding bare skin, and Riley gasped against his mouth.
God, she wanted him. Wanted this. Wanted to let go of every careful wall she'd built and just feel. She wanted to let go.
Grant's fingers traced her spine, her ribs, the soft curve of her stomach, and Riley arched into his touch. She could feel how much he wanted her—the hard press of him beneath her, the way his breathing had gone ragged, the barely controlled tension in his hands.
And something in Riley just…cracked open.
She wanted to tell him. Wanted to say all the things she'd been thinking, all the filthy thoughts that had been running through her head all night. Riley Monroe didn't talk like that—not really, not ever—but with Grant, she wanted to. She trusted him completely. Wanted to open herself up to him in every way.
"Grant—" she breathed.
"Yeah?"
"I need to tell you something."
His hands stilled. "Okay."
"I've been thinking about you all day." The words came out breathless but deliberate. "About this. About your hands on me." She rocked her hips against him, whispering the words.
Grant's grip tightened on her waist. "Riley?—"
"At the party, I could barely focus because all I wanted was you touching me." She rolled her hips against him again, feeling him surge beneath her. "Fucking me." She waited to see if he he’d react to her blunt words. Riley was just warming up, and watching Grant get even more turned on by what she said was making her even hotter.
Grant made a sound low in his throat—half groan, half growl—and it sent heat straight through Riley.
"I love when you make that sound," she said, emboldened. "When I can feel how much you want me."
"I do want you," Grant managed, his voice rough. "So fucking much."
“The things I want you to do to me…” she whispered in his ear, right before dragging her tongue down his neck.
"Tell me."
“Fuck me, Grant. Right now. Take me.”
Something in Grant's expression shifted—darker, hungrier—and then his hands were everywhere. Coat shoved off, sweater pulled over her head, his mouth finding her collarbone, her shoulder, the curve of her neck.
Riley's head fell back, giving him access, letting him worship her. His hands found the clasp of her bra, and she helped him remove it, and then his mouth was on her breast and Riley forgot how to breathe.
"God!" She gasped as his tongue circled her nipple. "Yes—like that— Oh, Grant, I love when you do that." And she did. It sent a jolt straight to her core.
Grant's mouth was hot and thorough, lavishing attention on first one breast then the other, his hands cupping her, thumbs brushing over the peaks until Riley was squirming in his lap, desperate for more.
"You're so beautiful," Grant murmured against her skin. "So fucking perfect."
"Don't stop," Riley managed. "Please don't stop."
“I can’t get enough of you, Riley.”
His teeth grazed her nipple gently and Riley cried out, her hips rolling against him involuntarily.
