All that careful restraint from last night? Gone.
All the interruptions, all the almost-moments, all the built-up tension—it exploded between them like a lit match to kindling.
Grant backed her against the workbench, his hands sliding into her hair, and Riley's fingers found the hem of his shirt, sliding under, finding skin.
"Upstairs," she gasped between kisses.
"Yeah."
They made it up the ladder in record time, hands everywhere, both grinning like idiots despite the desperation thrumming between them.
He followed, his heart pounding, and found her already on the couch, pulling him down toward her.
"Come here," she said, breathless and wanting.
Grant went.
Clothes disappeared in a blur—Riley's sweater yanked over her head, his shirt hitting the floor, jeans shoved down and kicked aside with zero patience or finesse. This wasn't careful. This wasn't tender. This was two people who'd been denied too many times finally getting what they needed.
Riley pulled him down onto the couch, and Grant's hands were everywhere—her hips, her thighs, sliding up her sides. She arched into his touch, making sounds that went straight to his head.
"God, I want you," she breathed.
"You have me."
Riley's nails dragged down his back, hard enough to sting. "Then stop talking."
Grant captured her mouth in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue and desperation. Riley bit his bottom lip, and he groaned, his hips pressing against hers.
"Are you sure?" he managed, even though it nearly killed him to ask.
"Yes." Her hands slid down his stomach. "You?"
"God, yes."
"Then stop asking questions and?—"
Riley's words cut off as Grant's mouth found her neck, biting down gently on the sensitive spot below her ear. She gasped, her back arching off the couch.
"There?" Grant murmured against her skin.
"Yes—don't stop?—"
He didn't. His mouth traced down her throat, her collarbone, finding every spot that made her breath hitch and her fingers tighten in his hair. Riley was writhing beneath him now, all that careful control from before completely gone.
"Grant—please?—"
"Please what?"
"You know what."
"Say it."
Riley's eyes blazed. "I need you. Now."
Grant reached for his wallet. Riley helped, her fingers impatient as they got the condom open and on, and then she was guiding him, pulling him closer.
"Don't be gentle," she said, her voice rough.
