That stoic mask he’s worn all night cracks and beneath it he looks undone, like he’s been waiting for this exact moment longer than he’s ever allowed himself to admit.
He exhales again, this time softer. “Go on then, beautiful.”
Her fingers find the waistband of his jeans first.
She drags her touch higher, tracing along the seam of his jeans, up toward his belt.
She glances up at him, just once, and he answers by finally lowering his hand, not to stop her but to finally touch her.
His fingers cup her jaw, tentative at first, then firmer when she doesn’t pull away.
His thumb ghosts over the soft skin of her cheek, moving to press against her bottom lip.
She tilts her face into his palm, the warmth of his hand grounding her as her fingers move to unclip his buckle.
When she drags the zipper down slowly, the sound is deafening in the still room.
Grant’s muscles tense, his breath escaping in a quiet curse that vibrates low in his chest.
He lifts his hips just enough to help her, the denim sliding down over strong thighs until only the thin waistband of his dark briefs remains.
The cotton stretches tight across the hard bulge beneath and she leans forward, her breath brushing against the thin fabric covering him there before pressing her lips to it.
Her mouth lingers just long enough to make him draw in a sharp breath through his teeth.
When Grant’s eyes lift, they find mine across the room.
There’s nothing playful in the look he gives me—just a silent command, a flick of his chin that sends heat straight through me.
I shift off the couch, knees sinking into the rug, and crawl toward them without a second thought.
By the time I reach them, my heartbeat is a steady pulse in my ears.
My hands find her back, tracing the smooth expanse of her skin exposed above the hem of her jeans, my fingers gliding up the delicate curve of her spine with a reverence that feels almost instinctual.
The fabric of her shirt shifts under my touch as my fingers climb higher, threading into the thick, silken strands of her hair that fall over her shoulders.
I tug gently and she shivers at the contact, her breath catching in a sound that sends a jolt through me.
It’s intoxicating the way her body responds so openly to the smallest of my touches.
“Okay?” I murmur. I’m not sure if I’m asking for permission to keep going or seeking reassurance that she’s as lost in this as I am. The question hangs in the air as my fingers linger in her hair, my thumb brushing the nape of her neck.
She doesn’t look back at me to break the spell of her focus.
Instead, another quiet groan vibrates through her as she leans forward, her lips mapping a slow path up Grant’s abdomen, tracing the taut line of skin just above his waistband.
His thumb brushes along her jawline, a tender and absent-minded gesture that seems to anchor her as much as it grounds him.
Her fingers move with purpose, deftly looping under the waistband of his briefs.
She tugs them down past his hips in one smooth motion, the fabric pooling at his thighs.
His cock springs free, heavy and thick, nearly grazing her cheek with its sudden release.
The sight of it—of her so close and barely flinching sends a pulse of heat through me.
My grip tightens briefly in her hair.
