Page 114 of Craving Francesca

“Hallelujah.”

He helped me into my seat and then walked around to his side as I let out a long breath. After I cashed my last check, I wasn’t going to think about that place ever again.

Gray pulled onto the road, and I zoned out, wondering what working for Tommy would be like. Ordering for much smaller jobs would take some getting used to, but it might be nice to be able to pay closer attention to the materials and products we were using. Plus, I’d met his two foremen, and I’d liked them. By the time I stopped daydreaming, I realized that we were nowhere near either of our houses.

“What are we doing here?” I asked as Gray pulled up to the Aces compound. The prospect rolled back the gate before we’d fully stopped.

“Need to run in for a minute,” he answered, the hand on my thigh giving a quick squeeze.

“Should we have dinner at my place tonight?” I asked, rolling my head on the seat to look at him. “We could grab those steaks from last night, and you could teach Lou how to grill them.”

“Sounds good.”

He parked in the forecourt and hopped out, but I left my seat belt on. If he was just running in for a minute, I didn’t really need to—

“You comin’?” he asked as he opened my door.

“Oh, sure.”

I followed him inside the quiet clubhouse and through the archway. There wasn’t anyone in the main room, but noise from the garage beside it was a steady hum. When we reached his room, he crowded me up against the wall.

“Whatcha doing?” I asked, grinning as he bent his head.

“Kissin’ you,” he murmured. His lips hit mine, and the now familiar sense of falling made my belly swoosh. “In,” he ordered, unlocking the door and swinging it open.

“What are we doing?” I practically sang, strutting into his room.

“Thought we could remake a memory,” he replied, locking the door behind him.

“Nice room,” I breathed.

“You gonna decorate it?”

“You need it,” I shot back, squealing as he reached for me, his hands going straight for my ass.

“Do whatever you want,” he muttered, carrying me to the bed. He tossed me onto it, and I bounced, laughing as he stripped off his cut.

We were a tangle of arms and legs as we pulled off our clothes. I tugged the rubber band out of his hair and ran my hands through the silky strands. He pressed a kiss to my sternum. Ran his hands down my sides so lightly that I had to force myself not to shiver. We kissed and kissed some more. His hand slid between my thighs. Mine gripped the globes of his ass.

Finally, when I was so turned on that every inch of my skin was sensitized and aching, he leaned back on his heels and pulled a condom out of his bedside drawer.

He tried to hand it to me.

“You do it,” I ordered huskily. I wanted to watch.

“You sure?” he asked gently.

Then I realized.

He’d handed me every condom so I could put them on. Every single time. And from that point on, his hands had never strayed close to it.

Tears filled my eyes.

“It’s fine, baby,” he said, trying to hand it to me again. “You do it.”

“You can put on the condom, Gray,” I choked out. “I don’t need to do it.”

“If it makes you feel safer, then—”

---