"Crisis averted?" she asked.
"For now. Though I'm pretty sure one of the kids ate an entire plate of sugar cookies and is going to be bouncing off the walls for the next three hours. Not our problem though." He laughed.
"Rookie mistake. Never give children unlimited access to sugar."
"I'll remember that for next time." Grant's hand found hers, their fingers tangling together automatically. "Want to get someair?"
Riley raised an eyebrow. "It's like twenty degrees outside."
"I wasn't thinking outside."
The heat in his voice made Riley's pulse spike. "Oh?"
Grant's thumb traced over her knuckles. "There'splacein the back I’d love to show you. Quiet. Private."
Riley's mouth went dry. They'd been circling each other all evening, touching and teasing, the memory of last night simmering between them. The interruptions they experienced constantly and the fact there were a lot of people at the party were present in her mind, but now they knew exactly what they were doing.
"Lead the way," Riley said.
The storage room was exactly what Riley expected—dusty, cramped, full of boxes of glassware and extra chairs. And blessedly private.
Grant closed the door behind them, and suddenly they were alone, the noise of the party muffled to a distant hum.
"Hi," Riley said, suddenly breathless.
"Hi." Grant stepped closer, backing her against the wall. "Been wanting to do this all night."
"Do what?"
Instead of answering, he kissed her.
It started slow, almost sweet, but within seconds it turned hungry. Riley's hands fisted in his ridiculous sweater, pulling him closer, and Grant made a low sound in his throat that sent heat pooling low in her belly.
His hands were everywhere—sliding up her back, tangling in her hair, gripping her hips. Riley arched into him, desperate for more contact, more heat, more everything.
"This sweater," Grant muttered against her mouth, his fingers finding the hem. "Has been driving me crazy all night."
"The lights?"
"Knowing what's underneath."
His hands slid under her sweater, warm against her skin, and Riley gasped. He took advantage of her open mouth, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers in a way that made her knees weak.
Riley's fingers found the buttons of his shirt—under the sweater because apparently she was determined to make this complicated—and started working them open. She needed to feel his skin, needed to touch him the way he was touching her.
Grant's hands moved higher, finding the edge of her bra, and then?—
"Oh god," Riley breathed out as his thumb brushed over her nipple through the fabric.
"You like that?"
"You know I do."
Grant kissed down her neck, his teeth grazing her collarbone while his hands worked magic under her sweater. He pushed her bra up, his palms warm against her bare skin, and Riley had to bite her lip to keep from making a sound that would definitely carry.
Then his fingers found her nipple, giving it a gentle pinch, and Riley forgot all about being quiet.
"Grant—"
