Page 64 of She Gives Love a Bad Name

“Grant, please,” I murmur, threading my fingers through his thick hair.

A restrained growl escapes him, and before I can respond, he pushes me to my feet, stands, and lifts me in his arms. I cling to him as he carries me to his bedroom and sets me on my feet.

He wraps my hair in his hand and pulls back, exposing my neck, tipping my face up. His eyes are dark pits full of dangerous promises, and I teeter on the precipice of the void.

“What do you need, baby?”

His question simmers through me, sending a bolt of need straight to my core. I rub my thighs together to quell the ache, but it’s useless. The only thing that will end my suffering is him.

Except he’ll make me work for it.

“Everything.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

He grins, and there go my panties, ruined by my need for this insufferable man.

“Take off your clothes.” I tug at the lapel of his jacket.

His slow striptease is almost cruel. He casually removes his jacket, tossing it on the dresser along the wall. My mouth waters as he unfastens his gun holster from around his torso and peels it off before carefully setting it and the loaded pistol on the dresser with his jacket.

When I reach for the hem of my shirt, he bats my hand away. “No.”

“But I—”

“I’ll undress you when I’m good and ready.” That wicked smolder returns, and my heart flutters at the sensual promises hidden in such a simple expression.

I bite my lip, letting the pain dull the edge of the demanding sexual tension pulsing between us.

Grant holds my gaze as he frees each...little...button from its tiny noose. The flutter of fabric unfolds, baring his chest. I’ve seen him shirtless, nearly naked, and still, this is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. This slow reveal is torment. I love it.

He unbuttons the cuffs and pulls his shirt off, adding it to the pile. By the time he toes off his shoes and unfastens his belt, I’m vibrating with need. My hands itch to touch him, to explore the bare expanse of skin before me. Never have I wanted someone as much as I want him. He’s a buffet of decadent desserts, and I’ve been deprived of sweets for far too long.

I groan when he removes his last articles of clothing, revealing his thick thighs and impressive cock.

I can’t stop my mind from wandering, from wondering how fast I could make him come with my mouth alone. He gives me no time to act on it. He steps closer and takes me by the waist.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes.” My voice is hoarse and breathy. I hate how desperate I sound, but I’m too far gone to really care.

Wrapping his hand in my T-shirt, he draws it over my head. My hair tangles in a heavy mess against my back when he pulls it free. His steady hands rest against my waist, and I shiver.

“What’s wrong?” His gruff question slides over my bare skin.

“Too slow.” I fumble with the button on my jeans.

He chuckles and brushes my hands aside. With more skill than I thought possible, he manages to tug the denim over my hips and remove it completely, along with my shoes and underwear.

“Still too slow...” My words fade when I look at the man kneeling before me.

“Quinn.” The jaded detective holds my gaze and runs his hands along my thighs, up to my hips. “The only words I want to hear from you right now aremoreanddon’t stop.”

The breath I’m holding catches on a whimper when he tips me onto the bed. I scramble back, but he’s already climbing after me, eyes bright with intent.

He pins me to the bed and captures my lips. Kissing him is effortless and intoxicating, like sipping a fruity cocktail and forgetting how much liquor is in it.

I arch closer, needing him against me, inside me.

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