Page 117 of The Holiday Clause
She frowned. “How does it work?”
“It’s about your pleasure as much as mine.”
“That’s sweet. But next time I want you to finish in my mouth.”
He stilled and laughed.
“Why are you laughing?”
He helped her up from the floor. “There’s just some things that are going to take a minute to get used to. You’re Wren.”
“So?”
“So, I’m still reeling at the fact that my cock was just in your mouth. It’s going to take a bit for me to wrap my brain around coming down your throat.”
She smiled. “But you want to?”
He kissed her, hard. “Yes, I want to. I want to do every possible thing with you. Over and over again.”
She wanted the same. “Me too.”
He looked in her eyes, then kissed her slowly. “I don’t think you realize how surreal this is for me. What we just did… I don’thave the words to tell you how incredible you are.” He dragged his thumb over her lower lip and grinned.
She bit his thumb and laughed.
He scooped her into his arms and carried her to bed. Exhausted, she fell asleep the moment he tugged her safely into the shelter of his body.
CHAPTER 17
“Up on the Housetop”
Wren awoke,warm and well-rested, only to remember she wasn’t in her own bed. But thisGoldilocks and the Woodsmansituation wasn’t one she’d ever experienced before. Slowly, she turned to Greyson.
Yep, he was asleep andstillnaked.
She looked up at the rafters, unsure what the protocol entailed in situations like this. Did she just lie there and wait, sort of like when a waiter brings one person’s dinner out before everyone else’s arrives? Or did she get up and start her day?
She should at least brush her teeth, right? But she didn’t bring toiletries. Maybe this explained the concept of a walk of shame.
But no shame existed here.
Her smile rested like a precious secret on her lips. Now she possessed secrets. Big secrets. Huge secrets that made her feel like she glowed from the inside out.
The warmth of his skin still lingered where their bodies had touched, and the unfamiliar masculine scent of his sheets surrounded her like an intimate cocoon. Her mind played over visions of last night and she shivered with delicious memory.
Had they really done those things? Her heart quickened at just the thought, heat pooling low in her belly.
A thousand jittery sparks danced in her stomach when she looked back at Greyson. The little kitten curled like a furry black snail shell at his neck. She could stare at him forever. Greyson, not the kitten. Although the kitten looked damn cute, too.
She silently giggled. Holy crap. She was in bed—naked—with Greyson Hawthorne.
It was a rare opportunity to be able to stare at him this closely. In sleep, his features softened, making him look younger, and more vulnerable.
Sandy brown hair swooped over his brow, reminding her of high school Greyson. Soft golden lashes crested like feathers, casting delicate shadows on his tanned cheeks. Through the scruff of his stubble, she could see the scar from where Mrs. Kolb’s dog bit him. That dog ended up falling in love with Greyson like everyone else who got to know him. It followed him around all summer long.
The intimacy of studying him like this felt profound, almost sacred. This quiet moment was hers and hers alone—no misinterpreted looks, no shared glances across crowded rooms, no stolen touches when no one was looking. Just her, memorizing every detail of the man who’d finally let her in.
Last night, she met a brand new side of Greyson. And he met a brand new side of her. Did he like seeing her that way? She certainly enjoyed seeing herself that way—liberated, all her inhibitions gone, and feeling wild.
