Grant slid out of her first, and then Van. She groaned, pinching her eyes shut in discomfort. As Grant lowered her to her feet, her legs trembled violently, her knees nearly buckling, and she was grateful for Van’s hands still spanned across her waist. Together, they both held her as she regained her balance.Grant pressed his lips to her forehead and she leaned into his strength, though he too was shaking.
“Are you alright, love?” he asked, breathing unsteadily against her temple. Van’s hands squeezed handfuls of her hips, then smoothed over them gently from behind. She nodded weakly, a soft, content smile tugging at her mouth. “Are you sure? Was it too painful—”
“It wasn’t any more than what I could handle,” she murmured, resting between them. “I’m okay, Grant. I promise.”
“Aftercare is just as important as the sex, Hope,” Grant said softly, smoothing his hands over her back. “Probably more so. Your body and your mind are going to come down from that high and without proper care afterward, the crash can be debilitating.” His dark eyes grew sad then and he said quietly, “I didn’t take care of you after… in my office. I pushed well past your limits and I knew it, and then left you as I did… Let me do it right this time.”
“Oh,” she whispered, staring up at him. He smoothed his hands down the backside of her arms and then lifted them so that her arms circled his neck. Bending slightly, he lifted her, one arm at her back and the other beneath her knees. “Grant—you don’t need to carry me—”
“We’re going to shower,” Grant called over his shoulder to Van as he crossed the room to the stairs leading up to the second floor.
“That sounds like a good idea. I’ll be here when you’re done,” Van said to them as Grant carried her up the stairs. She glanced over Grant’s shoulder at Van, and he winked at her with a soft smile. She blew him a kiss a moment before he disappeared from sight.
Grant carried her down the upstairs hallway and stepped them into his bedroom. It was overtly masculine; dark wood furniture, polished wood floors, dark navy bedding on a king-sized bed and a TV hanging on the wall across from the bed. He didn’t put her down, stepping through the tidy room to his own ensuite bathroom. He set her down, kissed her languidly, sweetly, and then stepped around her to the glass walled, walk in shower to turn the taps on to warm.
Within minutes the bathroom had begun to steam from the hot water in the shower, while Grant walked around gloriously, beautifully naked—which she fully delighted in—pulling towels down from a shelf and dug out extra toiletries. She recognized the shampoo and bodywash she liked to use and looked at him curiously. He shrugged his impossibly wide shoulders and looked sheepish.
“When you left Chicago… you left them in the bathroom in the hotel. I brought them with me, just so I could smell them when I missed you,” he admitted quietly, his voice deep and low. Her heart melted and tears stung her nose again as he took her hand in his, drawing her with him into the shower. He slid the floor to ceiling glass door closed behind them, stepping them into the warm spray.
“Grant…” she whispered, stepping toward him. She smoothed her hands over his abdomen, hard beneath a layer of softness and up his chest, covered in crinkly, salt and pepper-streaked chest hair. His hands settled on the curve of her hips, his fingers digging into the flesh just above her bottom.
“We don’t need to talk about Chicago,” he murmured. “You’re here now, and that’s all that I need.”
“I love you,” she whispered, pouring every ounce of emotion she could muster into those three words. “Grant. I think I might have loved you the moment we met. Everything inside of me knew… everything was about to change.”
“You gave my life meaning again, Hope,” he said and then he chuckled lightly, one corner of his mouth turning up just theslightest. “You gave me hope for a future. Something I hadn’t let myself truly think about in a decade, butterfly.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Wrapping her arms around his thick waist, she settled her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes, listening to the steady, rhythmic cadence of his heart as it beat beneath her ear. His arms folded around her, holding her close, and they remained that way for a long time, just reveling in the moment, in the closeness, the quiet. The steady thrum of the hot water as it rained down on them, over their shoulders and backs soothed some of the achiness in her limbs, dissipating the tightness that had begun to creep into her muscles.
Grant positioned them so that she could lean her head back under the spray of water to wet her hair fully, his fingers sliding through the wet strands. She watched him, his attention on his task, dark chocolate brown eyes focused on his hands in her hair. When all of her hair was thoroughly wetted, he reached around her and clicked open the top of the shampoo, squeezing it out into his palm, and then he methodically massaged it into her hair. Her eyes slid closed, leaning into his touch with a soft moan. It felt so good, his strong, capable fingers massaging theshampoo into her scalp, down the long strands. Her hands had returned to his waist, touching lightly, holding steadily as he worked. And then he tipped her chin up and kissed her lightly before rinsing her hair.
He did the same with the conditioner, sliding the cream through her hair and combing through with his fingers gently, working out any tangles, before rinsing it thoroughly. He was so gentle and thorough, dropping kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her lips as he worked. If she wasn’t already in love with him, she would have fallen hard and fast just from this alone, she mused dazedly.
Then he grabbed a washcloth, wetting it before squeezing out a dollop of her bodywash, and then placed it against her shoulders and washed every single inch of her. Over each shoulder, down each arm, over her chest—her nipples hardened and she sighed out a breathy moan when it dragged over them—down over her fleshy, soft stomach. He knelt on the shower floor, washing each thick thigh and down her calves. Bending her knee, he placed her foot on a low ledge, and then his hand and the washcloth were between her thighs and she blushed a thousand shades of red. He was gentle, adoring, as he took care of her where she ached the most. And when he turned her so that he could wash the backs of her thighs and over the curves of her bottom, he kissed the light bruises still marring her flesh. He stood, washing up her back. Her breathing was labored, short, panting breaths as his hands continued to move over her. She was wet and aching again.
Grant moved her forward so that she could step beneath the spray of water, rinsing her entire body of the bodywash, and then turned her to face him. They were so close she could feel him, hard and heavy, against her middle, but he ignored his erection as he continued to worship her. Because that’s what it felt like he was doing.
They swapped spots then, and he rushed through washing his hair, scrubbed at his beard, then washed his body just as quickly before rinsing. Standing fully beneath the water to let it run over his head, face and body, Hope simply stared at him. His body was magnificent. So big and thick and hard and soft in all the right ways. His arms reached up to scrub at his hair to rinse the shampoo and the muscles in his massive arms bunched and shifted with each movement, making her mouth water. His abdomen contracted as he moved and she couldn’t stop herself from lifting her hands and splaying them, palms flat, against them. His muscles jumped at the contact and she smiled. She ached to lower her hand and take hold of his hardness, but this was his show, and she didn’t want to take away his glowing aftercare. She guessed he needed it just as much as she had.
When he was thoroughly clean and rinsed, he shut the water off and slid the glass door open, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her before they stepped out. Grant hurriedly towel dried his upper body before slinging the second towel around his waist, tucking in the corner at his hip, and then reached for her again. Tears stung her eyes as he dried her off and then used a hairbrush to comb through her long hair. He dropped a kiss to the tip of her bare shoulder above the towel and she smiled up at him over her shoulder.
“Come on, we’re not done yet,” he murmured, taking her hand and leading her out of the bathroom to the bedroom. “Lay down on the bed, face down.”
“Oh?” she asked, biting her lip and dropping her gaze to the bulge behind the towel. He chuckled, shaking his head.
“You’re going to be sore,” he said gently, turning her away from him and giving her a light shove toward the bed. “This isn’t about sex right now, Hope.”
She pouted, but nodded, making him chuckle again. She dropped the towel and climbed up onto the massive bed,shivering lightly from the sudden chill. She folded her hands beneath her head and rested her cheek on them, watching him as he moved around the room. He climbed onto the bed, straddling her thighs with his knees on the mattress on either side of her, a bottle of lotion in his hand. Uncapping it, he squeezed a generous portion into his palms and rubbed them together. The sound of the lotion sliding through his hands was strangely erotic and made her heart thud in her chest.
But then his hands were on her shoulders, and she couldn’t stop the low, throaty moan that escaped her when his fingers squeezed and massaged the muscles there. He chuckled again, and she loved the sound of it.
His hands smoothed over her shoulders, her back, down the backside of her arms, over the mounds of her ass and backs of her thighs. She was a puddle, a warm, gooey, fully melted puddle when he finished. And so horny she ached.
“Grant, please…” she whispered, her cheek still resting on her stacked hands. She could feel him, full and heavy and hard against her bottom and she shifted, grinding up against him, delighting in the heavy groan that drifted to her. “Please.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered back, lowering his chest over her back, leaning over her braced on one hand beside her shoulder. The shift in position had pressed his lap more fully against her ass and she sighed wantonly, arching against him. He swore under his breath, tucking his nose into the groove of her neck and shoulder as he rocked against her. “Hope.”
