Page 93 of Craving Francesca

He did.

We made out like a couple of teenagers, his mouth detouring to my breasts, my neck, my stomach. The blankets stayed between us, still tangled up around my waist. Eventually, his hand slid beneath them and into my shorts. I arched off the bed as his fingertips thrummed over my clit. He traced every curve and valley, memorizing me as he sucked at my nipples. My body was on fire, but for once, I wasn’t reaching toward my orgasm with both hands.

I wanted to revel in the feelings. I never wanted it to end.

Any time I reached for his boxers, he moved away. By the time I came, his name gravelly and rough as it left my mouth, my hands were clenched tightly in his hair.

“Now you,” I gasped, reaching for him again.

“Not tonight,” he murmured, kissing me softly.

“Gray,” I complained, still trying.

“Not tonight, baby,” he repeated, his hand on my cheek.

“Why not?” I snapped.

“You think you can sleep now?” he asked, ignoring the question.

“You just got me off so I could sleep?” Insecurity smacked me in the face.

“I got you off because I wanted to watch,” he replied calmly. “Because I wanted your tits in my mouth, and I wanted my fingers in your cunt, and I wanted to watch you fuckin’ lose it.”

My eyes widened.

“Do you think you can sleep?”

“Maybe.”

“Good.” He kissed me again and climbed off the bed.

“Seriously?”

I lay there, stewing, as he got back into his bed. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him put his fingers into his mouth, idly cleaning them as he opened his book with the other hand.

My core clenched. Fuck that.

Throwing back the blankets, I marched around his bed and climbed in on the far side. I scooted all the way over until I was plastered against his side.

He looked down at me in amusement.

“Not a word,” I muttered.

He smiled. Half a minute later, he was yanking me over him, scooting so that I was lying in the spot he’d been in, and he was in the center of the bed. Reaching over me, he turned off the light.

“What was the point of that?” I grumbled as he lay down and tucked me into his front.

“I sleep by the door.”

Arching my back, I smiled as his hand gripped my hip to hold me still. He was as hard as a rock, even if he didn’t plan on doing anything with it.

My eyes grew heavy as the arm under my head curved down, his hand covering my breast.

“I think I can sleep now,” I murmured, kissing his bicep.

“Good,” he whispered, leaning down to brush his lips over my bare shoulder.

When I woke up later, Gray was passed out behind me. One hand was still covering my breast. The other had tucked down inside the front of my shorts.

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