I can’t do anything but moan and nod as he continues working the sensitive bundle of nerves, his touch making it impossible to hold back the pleasure building inside me.
“Look how good you look right now.” His eyes meet mine in the mirror. “All flushed and needy for me.”
His gaze roams over my body again, and this time I feel more exposed than ever—standing in the mirror while he fingers me, completely reduced to a whimpering, needy mess by the touch of his hand.
And when his eyes travel down to my stomach, all I can think about is how different my body is now compared to what it used to be before I got pregnant and had April. Before my twenties turned into my thirties.
I instinctively move my own hand to cover my belly even though he’s already seen every part of me, as up close and personal as we could get.
“No.” He says it so firmly, and the sudden sternness in his voice surprises me.
Then his free hand is on top of mine, stopping me from covering myself and slowly pulling my hand back.
He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses the backs of my fingers. “Don’t hide from me. You’re fucking perfect.”
“I’m not perfect. I’m?—”
“Everything I want,” he cuts me off.
He presses his palm flat against the slight swell of my stomach while his other hand keeps working between my legs, teasing my opening and making me forget all about my insecurities.
“I’m going to spend the rest of the weekend proving to you how sexy you are,” he murmurs into my ear. “Until you believe it.”
My thighs start trembling.
“I’m going to show you with my fingers, with my mouth, and with my cock. Just like this.”
His hand is moving faster, and it feels so damn good. If he wasn’t holding me up with his other hand and supporting me with his hard, muscular body, I would have already collapsed to the floor.
“I’m going to worship every inch of you.”
My hips buck against his hand, and I belatedly realize I’ve been moaning loud enough for it to echo off the bathroom walls.
“Do you like that, Hurricane?” He dips a finger inside, teasing me. “You like being mine? Ready for me whenever I touch you?”
I can’t answer. I can barely even breathe. All I can do is whimper and nod and pray he never stops touching me.
“I need to hear you say it, beautiful. Do you like being mine?”
“Yes!” I gasp, finally managing to choke out an answer. “Yes, yes, oh fuck, Grant!”
My orgasm is so intense that the entire world goes fuzzy. For a split second, I can’t tell which way is up or down.
But his hands are on me, holding me, guiding me. One still between my legs, gently coaxing the last aftershocks of my release, and the other wrapped tightly around my waist, supporting me.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he whispers, slowly bringing one hand up to his mouth and then licking his fingers clean. “And you taste amazing. I could get addicted to this.”
It’s probably just the orgasm-fueled fog in my brain, but those words make my heart beat even harder. A warm, happy feeling spreads through me, radiating from my core and reaching all the way to the top of my head and back down to the tips of my fingers and toes.
Then my stomach rumbles, bringing me back to reality in the most embarrassing way possible. But Grant doesn’t tease me. Instead, he immediately looks concerned.
“When was the last time we ate?” Now he looks even more worried. “Was it last night?”
“I think so.” Time has lost all meaning since I’ve been in bed with him. I wouldn’t even know what day it was if I didn’t have to go pick up April at some point.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I should be taking better care of you.”
I open my mouth to tell him he doesn’t have to worry about taking care of me, or apologize, for that matter. But he scoops me up into his arms so fast that I can’t get the words out in time.
