Part 26 (2/2)

I find myself blinking rapidly, my vision as blurry as the winds.h.i.+eld before me. Feeling far too tender, I curl over him and place a kiss at the crest of his cheek. He smells so good, like citrus and baking bread and pure Gray, and I pepper his face with soft kisses. He turns slightly, slings his heavy arm over my neck to hold me close as his mouth finds mine.

That emotion inside me bubbles over and rushes through my veins with absolute surety. I love him. I love Gray Grayson more than I ever thought possible. I'm through being afraid of this. I'm all in now. I'm his girl for as long as I can be.

Gray

Some people grow up gradually, the foundations of their childhood steadily sinking into the earth so slowly they barely notice the change. Until one day they're simply standing on their own two feet with little idea how they got there.

Then there are people whose childhoods are smashed to bits in one blow. They topple into adulthood, flailing about for something to hold onto, and the terror of falling leaves a permanent scar on their psyche. Do those people ever end up feeling safe? I wonder about that, because I fell hard. For so long there were days when it seemed as though I was still falling, when I couldn't find a single good thing to hold onto, when nothing felt safe or secure.

Then I met Ivy. Somehow, she caught me. Ivy is peace and warmth and hope, and I find myself holding on tight, afraid that if she lets me go I'll be in a free fall once again.

The fact that one person has so much power over my happiness scares the s.h.i.+t out of me. I know how fragile life is. Here today, dust tomorrow. But only a fool cuts his one lifeline.

I'm no fool even if I act as though I am to the outside world. So I'll do whatever it takes to keep Ivy.

Twenty-Two.

Gray

GrayG: I think we need to put a s.e.xting rule into our playbook.

IvyMac: There's playbook? When did we get a playbook?

GrayG: We've always had one. The Book of Ivy and Gray. It's epic. I've added a large addendum to cover s.e.x. Play Pattern 1 (Shenanigans): f.u.c.k as often as my d.i.c.k and your p.u.s.s.y hold out.

IvyMac: Lovely. You are truly gifted with words. Is there a reason you're texting me when we're in the same bed?

GrayG: To test out my new phone. And so I can see that little smile you make when you read them. Have you always smiled like that over my texts?

IvyMac: Always, Cupcake.

GrayG: Lie back now, honey. I'm going to lick that sweet p.u.s.s.y and see you smile some more.

”Gray!”

Ivy turns to glare at me from over her bare shoulder. Her cheeks pink. ”Do you have to use p.u.s.s.y? It's so crude.” She sounds annoyed, but those gorgeous dark eyes of hers glaze over with want. It makes my hard d.i.c.k throb.

”v.a.g.i.n.a then?” I give her a leer.

Her nose wrinkles. ”Er...no.”

”Lady lips?”

She's laughing now. ”I'll never live that down.”

Grinning, I toss my phone aside and reach for her. She's all warmth and long limbs and smooth skin. ”Love pot?” I murmur, skimming my lips down her long torso. ”Honey m.u.f.f? Secret garden of delight?”

”Crazy nut,” she calls me.

”Now, Mac, we're going to have problems if you can't tell the difference between a nut and a p.u.s.s.y. Here...” I ease her thighs apart. ”Let me educate you.”

Her phone falls from her hand, the sound of her squawking protests and laughter drifting off into a gurgle as I bury my head between her legs, kiss her softly. Again. And again. Until I finally take a long, savoring lick and lose myself, drunk off the honey-sweet slickness that is Ivy.

Ivy

Gray decides to convert my bed into a tent, hanging all my available sheets over the canopy until not a bit of the room peeks through. That he's naked as he does this serves as my entertainment. I bite the edge of my lower lip as his pale, taut b.u.t.t flexes and the muscles along his back and shoulders ripple. Gray completely owns his body and always moves with a.s.sured grace. Though I suppose if I were as fit and firm as he is, I'd flaunt myself that way too.

Right now, I can't think about moving. I'm sore all over, a delicious kind of ache achieved by a night of marathon s.e.x. I smile into my pillow. Last night, we'd gone at it with single-minded devotion, stopping only to doze or talk. In the middle of telling a joke or simply talking, we'd remember that, yes, we can touch. And that would be it, mouths caressing, hands touching, Gray moving inside me.

When the sun came up, Gray hunted down the leftover pain aux raisins, which he declared the best thing he'd ever had in his mouth. Well, aside from my ”sweet-as-f.u.c.k p.u.s.s.y.” And I had to give him points for being both complimentary and crude.

Standing above me now, Gray catches my smile and grins back. Everything we've done-every dirty, sweet, raunchy thing-pa.s.ses between us like a shared secret. Heat swells within me, but I don't move.

Finished with his task, he scrambles under the covers and pulls me close. His skin is cool, and I wrap myself around his big body to warm him. Gray exhales in a sigh before slowly peppering my face with soft kisses. ”Call me crazy,” he says as he kisses along my cheek, ”but ever since I was a kid and saw A Christmas Carol, I've wanted to sleep in an enclosed canopy.”

I run my hands over his shoulder. Warm satin and carved granite. I love touching him. ”Hmmm. This feels more like we're in one of those old-fas.h.i.+oned canvas tents.”

He glances at the white sheets surrounding us. With the sunlight filling the room, the enclosed little s.p.a.ce glows golden. But it is cozy and quiet, and ours. I burrow closer to Gray, touch his jaw, the plump curve of his lower lip. He nips my fingers. ”Yeah, it really needs dark sheets for the full Victorian effect.”

”That's okay, I've always had an Out of Africa safari fantasy.” Smiling, I run my fingers along his temple. ”You can be my Robert Redford and wash my hair later.”

”Isn't he a little old for you, Mac?” He wrinkles his nose is mock horror.

”s.e.xy doesn't have an expiration date, Cupcake.”

”Well, at least I know you're into blond dudes.” Gray hunkers down further into the pillows. Against our nest of white sheets his skin is like amber honey, his eyes lapis blue. He's so freaking gorgeous, he takes my breath.

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