“My feet,” she admits. “These shoes weren’t meant for walking all over Vegas.”
Before she can protest, I bend, scoop her into my arms, and lift her against my chest.
“Grant!” she squeaks, gripping my shoulders.
“Not letting you hurt yourself,” I say simply. “Tell me if you think I’m ever putting you down.”
She tucks her face against my throat. I feel her smile against my skin, and it damn near breaks me.
I carry her all the way back to the hotel, up the steps, through the lobby, and down the hall. My muscles burn, and heat rises in my blood with every second she clings to me. Her dress slides up her thighs, brushing my forearms. I can feel her soft curves against me, every exhale of her breath brushing my neck.
By the time I reach the room, I’m on the edge of losing my mind.
I swipe the key, kick the door open, and carry her inside.
She feels perfect in my arms. Too perfect. My muscles tighten in warning, but I don’t put her down.
Not yet.
I carry her further into the room and only stop when she whispers against my neck.
“Grant… you’re really carrying me over the threshold again?”
“Yeah,” I growl. “And I’m going to do it every time I get the chance.”
I set her down slowly, letting every inch of her body slide against mine on her way to the floor.
Her hands skim my chest. Her breasts brush my chest through her dress. Her breath fans across my throat.
By the time her feet hit the carpet, I’m hard—painfully hard.
She tilts her head, lips parted, wanting… something.
I step closer. She presses her palms against my stomach like she’s trying to steady herself, but her fingers curl slightly, gripping the fabric of my shirt.
“One taste wasn’t enough,” I say, my voice low, barely human.
Her chest rises on a sharp inhale.
I frame her face gently, firm enough that she can feel how much I need her, and kiss her.
The second our mouths meet, everything snaps.
Her lips are soft and warm, and she opens them for me immediately. I slide my tongue against hers, slow but deep, claiming her mouth, swallowing her little gasp. She clutches my shirt, dragging me closer, pressing her body against mine like she’s starving for me.
I back her against the wall, kissing her harder.
She makes this quiet, pleading sound in her throat, and I feel it down my spine, into my blood, straight to my cock.
“Grant,” she whispers breathlessly.
“Say it again,” I growl against her mouth, lifting her thigh with one hand so she’s pressed against my hip.
“Grant—”
I kiss her again before she can finish, my hands roaming over her hips, her waist, down the curve of her ass. I grip her there, slide my hand under her dress, and groan when my fingers meet bare skin.
No tights. No shorts.
