Page 111 of Doctorshipped
“Me too.”
“You missed yourself?” he jokes.
Grant. Jokes.
I push back slightly so I can look up at Grant’s ridiculously gorgeous face. “I missed you, you big oaf.”
“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”
“Well, maybe you need to do something more with your time.”
“I don’t.”
His voice has that pouty, grumpy, serious tone, and it makes me smile. I’m so relieved he hasn’t gone all completely soft-hearted on me. I’d miss broody Grant if he disappeared completely. Maybe my protagonist will feel that way about the cyborg. Nope. Not plotting my story right now. Right now, I’m being kissed, apparently.
Grant bends in and pulls me toward himself again. I rise on my toes to reach him before he’s even halfway to me. Forget not being that over-eager woman. I am what I am, and he’s right here, and I’m not wasting a minute of this short time we have alone together.
Our lips connect and we both make a soft sound. His is more raw and grumbly, and it sends chills skittering along my skin and flutters through my belly. I grip his hair and he smooths mine. Our mouths dance and our hands caress one another’s backs, sides, arms. I grip onto him to steady myself. We’re a tangle of need, and appreciation, and sheer joy in what we seem to have possibly found in one another.
I’m totally focused on Grant and the way it feels to be held by him, kissed by him.
He’s bending down to accommodate our height difference.
I pull back and look up at him. “Are you okay?”
He chuckles lightly. “Never better. Why?”
“I mean, your neck. I don’t want you to have to see a chiropractor. The nearest one is in Beaver Creek.”
This earns a full laugh.
“Not kidding.”
“I’m fine, but if you want, we can relocate to somewhere more level.”
“Are you asking me up to your room?”
Grant laughs so fully, I barely recognize him. His face scrunches up around the eyes and his dimple comes out to play. He’s gorgeous, and so free right now.
“No, Jayme. As much as I’d love to have you in my bed, we haven’t even told my daughter we’re dating. I think we’re a ways off from sharing a bed. I was thinking I could sit in my chair and you would be just about six inches taller than me, standing.”
“Are you insulting my height?”
“I love your height. It suits you. You’re like this fierce pixie. I’m solving a problem, and trying to kiss you.”
“Well then.”
He thinks I’m a fierce pixie. I want a T-shirt that says,Fierce Pixie. That’s all.
Grant takes my hand and leads me behind his desk. He sits in his chair, and boy-oh-boy I love his ability to do mental math, because yes, I am only about six inches taller than him now, and I fit in the space between his legs when he tugs me near.
“No chiropractor needed,” he says.
“Genius.” I agree.
He wraps his hand behind my head, and while he’s pulling me toward him, he says, “It’s not like I only wanted you here early just so I could kiss you. I don’t want you to think that’s what this is.”
“Oh,” I say. Our faces are mere inches from one another. “I totally came here for the kissing, so get over yourself, Peppers.”
