Page 66 of Rival Hearts

“Left,” I said, guiding him to my room between kisses.

He tossed me onto the bed, and the plush white duvet enveloped me. I laughed until he followed me down, his lips back, each part he touched catching fire, burning down all my defenses. I never wanted this feeling to end. Happiness and desire were the most potent combination. His hands traced my rib cage while his lips trailed along my neck. In one quick movement, he had my shirt over my head.

When I landed back on the pillow, he searched my expression for a beat. “All signs point to a ‘yes.’ But I wanna be sure. I need to be sure. I don’t ever want to do anything to hurt you again.”

“That’s a pretty high bar,” I whispered, tracing his face with my fingertips. There’d always been something in his eyes which had drawn me in. The light in them felt like it shone just for me. Beyond the brown eyes, he was my idea of perfect. Would I really get to keep him for more than one night?

A half smile touched his lips. “It’s good to have a goal.” A crease formed between his eyebrows. “I don’t want you to regret this. Ever. And I’m so fucking sorry that might have been what happened last time.”

I lifted my hips to meet him, and I drew his mouth toward mine. “I want you. I want this. No regrets. I promise.” I’d spent all night after I parted with Trent thinking about the ways this night could go once Grady knew the truth. Having him pressed up against me, as tight as two bodies could be, had been the best-case scenario. I wanted him maybe even more than I’d wanted him thirteen years ago.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he said against her lips. “Considering you’re not wearing any underwear.”

I laughed. “Did you like that?” I ran my hands to the edge of his jeans, my fingers tracing the waistband, dancing along his abs. “I wasn’t sure if I’d need to win you over.”

He sucked in a sharp breath before burying his head in my neck. “Consider me won. This is quite possibly the bestapology acceptedI’ve ever received.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I breathed as I arched against him. I unsnapped the button on his jeans, pulled down the zipper, and pushed them off his hips. It had been far too long since he’d been as close as I wanted.

He drew back from me enough to let his jeans fall to the floor before crawling across the bed. I loved the mix of tenderness and desire I saw on his face just before our lips met. When I rose up to deepen the kiss, he unsnapped my bra, drawing it down my arms before tossing it aside. His hand massaged my breast, and then his thumb teased my taut nipple.

I ran my hands through his brown hair and then along his biceps. Nothing about this felt quite real yet, but the longer I touched him, the more he was coming into focus, embedding in my consciousness.

He kissed his way down my body, stopping to worship each breast, swirling his tongue across each mound before grazing the nipple with his teeth. Each time he did it, a shock wave surged through me.

After Grady, every other guy had paled in comparison. My sister had been right—I’d test-driven a few makes and models of men, longing for whatever I’d felt with Grady. I’d never found the same level of attraction, of desperation, as if it was impossible to be close enough.

If being with Grady was what drowning felt like, I never wanted to breathe again.

My body was reaching full volume, and I wasn’t sure I’d last to the main event. I was tuned, one plucked string away from crying out, begging him to take me. He slid my skirt down, and it landed on the wood floor with a soft thump. With my legs spread, his fingers slid along my folds, and I clutched onto his shoulders. God, why did this feel so good? When his fingers eased inside, we sighed into each other’s mouths. Desire surged through me.

“Fuck, Maggie,” he groaned, his fingers sliding in and out of me while his thumb massaged my clit. Bending his head, his teeth grazed my nipple. Fireworks went off behind my eyelids, and it was impossible to focus on anything but the sensations he was creating. My hands tangled in his hair, and my breathing was so labored I felt like I was running a marathon.

Reaching between us, I slipped my hand into his boxer briefs and gripped his shaft, stroking over the tip and back to the base. I wanted him to need this release as much as I did. He sucked in a sharp breath, and when he breathed out, hot beside my ear, I moaned.

“Please, Grady.” I wiggled and panted, not even sure what I needed. How long could I go without losing myself completely? Each stroke of his fingers, each circle of his thumb drove me closer to the edge. “I want you. I want to feel you inside me.”

His lips returned to mine, and he settled between my legs. Deepening the kiss, his hips rocked against me, his underwear the only barrier between us. When he slid along, I gripped his ass.

“Please.” I kept him tight. The friction was delicious, maddening.

When he moved back, I tried to grab for him. He chuckled and reached over the bed for his pants, extracting a foil wrapper.

“Gotta look after you.” He planted a quick kiss on my lips.

“Can I?” I nodded to the wrapper and rose on my knees.

His gaze connected with mine, and he handed the condom over.

I pushed down his boxers and stroked the length of him while our tongues tangled. I ripped open the package and rolled the condom on, savoring the long, hard feel of him under my fingers. Lightly, I pushed on his chest, and he fell back, pulling me with him, our lips connecting as I straddled him.

His hands were on my hips, guiding me, until his tip was poised at my entrance. My hands were splayed on his chest as I eased over him. Mentally, I traced his face, one which had haunted my dreams for years, one I never thought I’d see filled with desire for me again. He’d always been the one, or at least the idea of him had held me back, stopped me from giving myself to anyone else. Scary and thrilling in equal measure.

His eyes were so dark with desire they almost looked black. He drew me to him, so our foreheads touched. I rocked back, loving the connection, the skin-to-skin contact.

“God, you feel sofuckinggood,” he whispered, his voice strained.

I’d dreamed about doing this, gotten off at the memory of him saying those words. No one else had inspired the emotion threatening to burst forth. I was close to coming apart, but whatever was swelling in my chest was so much bigger, scarier, and all-consuming than an orgasm. Instead of examining the feeling, I ground down on him, and he steadied my hips, helping me to get the resistance I needed.

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