Grant

Grant pulled his SUV beside the beat-up pickup truck parked in front of the log cabin. He was half an hour early for dinner, but couldn’t cool his heels at the Vail family residence any longer. Not even his company’s pending multimillion-dollar deal worked to take his mind off Blaire. Three weeks of nothing but quick lunches or dinners—often with Liam, the cock-blocker, in attendance—resulted in no more than chaste kisses and perpetual blue balls.

Grant couldn’t figure out who the older man was to Blaire. There was nothing possessive in the way Liam looked at her, but there was no doubt he was fiercely protective. His first impression of Liam was that of a Colorado mountain man sporting a flannel shirt complete with a rough beard. The times Grant had been around him, he usually smelled of pine, gasoline, and bar oil as if he’d been walking around all day wielding a chainsaw. There was something in the way he held his back straight, how he moved nimbly around the room despite his bulk and size, and how his ever-watchful gaze seemed to catalogue every one of Grant’s movements as if storing information for later use. There was more to Liam than a man who gained his muscles by lifting logs or cutting down trees.

That morning, Blaire invited Grant to dinner. He’d forgotten the reason for the invitation because all he heard was that Liam was out of town.

Liam was out of town and that meant Blaire was alone.

Blaire was alone. Therefore there was no Liam to give him the evil eye every time any part of Grant’s anatomy brushed by her.

Erotic images swam in his head.

How many times when they’d be having dinner had he imagined Blaire splayed on that table ready for him to have his way with her? He’d kiss up her shapely legs before diving into the sweetness between her thighs. Grant gritted his teeth and willed the discomfort behind his jeans to go away. He could hardly walk in there with a massive hard on. Although sex with Blaire was at the forefront of his mind, he was going to prove to her that he could wait. He wasn’t going to take advantage of Liam’s absence.

His dick just called him a liar.

Growling at the war between his brain and his cock, he slammed out of the vehicle and marched up the steps. The door opened and he nearly swallowed his tongue. All thoughts of abstaining from sex evaporated. Blaire stood before him in a long-sleeved flannel shirt that hit mid-thigh. Her legs were bare and she had a towel wrapped around her head.

“You’re early,” she said breathlessly.

Grant took in the flushed look of her skin and the damp curls framing her face before tracking down the haphazardly buttoned shirt to her legs and feet.

“You’re going to freeze,” he said gruffly, stepping inside and backing her into the foyer. He took his time turning to close the door, his knuckles turning white around the doorknob as he sought to tame the raging desire to scoop her up like a caveman and fuck her.

Fuck her deep.

His painfully erect cock wanted nothing more than to rip through her, he thought savagely.

“Grant?” her tentative whisper brought him out of his haze and he realized he had shut the door but was still facing away from her.

“Sorry if I am too early,” he cleared his throat and turned around, careful to keep his eyes on her face.

She cocked her head then shrugged. “I was running late. Had to do some maintenance on the pickup and the time got away from me.”

“You need to get rid of that pile of junk,” Grant muttered. “It’s a death trap and unsafe.” If it didn’t make him sound desperate and psycho, he’d offer to buy her a new car.

She shrugged again. “It suits my needs, but I do understand your point.” She pivoted and headed toward the kitchen. He probably shouldn’t torture himself but he let his gaze eat up her retreating figure, zeroing in on her swaying hips.

“The good news is,” she continued as Grant unfroze and followed her. “The stew has been simmering for hours, so if you can hang around a bit while I dry my hair and put on more appropriate clothes for company…”

She stopped suddenly and Grant plowed into her. He grabbed her hips and she turned. Her lower belly pressed against his erection and his brain short-circuited. A growl rumbled up his throat just as his lips came down on hers in a crushing kiss. Weeks of pent-up sexual hunger were unleashed. Days of trying to act like a worthy suitor. Hours of living in the skin of a man that was not him. Grant was a man who took what he wanted. And he was taking it now.

Blaire broke off from his kiss. “This is a bad idea,” she whispered against his lips.

“I like bad ideas,” he growled. His prick was so hard, he was afraid he’d stroke if he didn’t get inside her.

“Well, it’s a good thing I like them too,” she breathed against him. “Fuck me, Grant.”

“You got it.” Their mouths clashed and tongues tangled. His hands moved from her hips to her ass and squeezed so hard she yelped. He might have murmured an apology but he never let go of her lips for long. His fingers stroked up her side and his thumb brushed over her tit and felt a hard nipple.

No bra.

“You’re killing me,” he groaned as he continued to flick the tip, her little mewls at the back of her throat sent him into possessive overdrive. Lifting her onto the table, he hooked her legs around him and ground his erection against her pussy. He reached down between them and grazed her panties with the back of his fingers.

“Drenched,” he rasped. “Christ.”

“Grant …” she panted against his mouth.

“What do you want, Angel?” He sunk his fingers in her pussy, her muscles clamping at the assault, soaking them with her arousal.

They groaned together. The sheer rapture of finding her hot and wet, coupled with the breathless moans his fingers wrenched with each stroke, fueled the feral beast inside him. She writhed against him, rubbing the top of her pubis against his hand as she eagerly sought her own release. But Grant didn’t allow this. He withdrew even as her eyes flashed with unfulfilled hunger. “I’m not finished,” she protested.

“First time. You come with me inside you,” he muttered as he took a condom from his wallet. “Keep your legs open, baby. Keep your eyes on me. Watch as I fuck you.”

The sound of his zipper echoed in the room. His cock was painfully erect, jutting right between them and aching to plunge into her. She looked down between her spread legs, her eyes widening at the sight of his arousal.

He needed her naked.

Grant unbuttoned her flannel shirt, controlling the desire to simply shred it to pieces. He inhaled sharply as her tits, crowned with dusky pink nipples, spilled out. The urge to bend forward to suck, lick, and worship them was almost too strong to resist. But Grant was compelled with the single-minded purpose to claim his woman. He eyed her with a hunger unlike anything he’d felt before. Pulling his shirt over his head, he tossed it on the floor. Those tits were going to rub against his skin as he fucked her.

Deeply aroused, he hiked her legs high around him for deep penetration.

“You’re mine now, Angel,” he growled as he drove hard inside her. Her back arched from the table and he yanked Blaire toward him as he swallowed her cry, digging his fingers into her damp hair which had since escaped the towel. He devoured her mouth, keeping her busy as her body stretched to accommodate him. Grant acknowledged he was a big guy and had to give her time to adjust. Seconds passed, and she circled her hips, eliciting a soft growl deep inside his chest. He released her lips and showered her face with kisses. “Okay?” he asked, his voice was gentle despite the ferocity thrumming through his veins.

She nodded and he withdrew slowly. He set a steady pace at first, watching for signs of discomfort or pleasure, but it wasn’t long before she was rocking impatiently against him.

“Faster, Grant,” she moaned. “Harder.”

That one word unleashed a torrent of carnal greed. He folded over her and clutched her, flexing his hips back only to slam back into her. Over and over, each pounding thrust sought to fulfill their frenzied lust. Wet heat clenched around him and threatened his control. He lifted his head in time to watch her gorgeous eyes slide shut, her forehead crease, and her lips form an “oh” as she cried out her release.

He followed her directly into climax, his need for her overwhelming any desire to prolong the pleasure. It simply wasn’t possible. And as he drove into her one last time, shudders ripped up his spine and his mind blanked except for one word.

Mine.

* * *

Grant jolted awake to unfamiliar surroundings until the memories of the night before crashed through him.

He’d had sex with Blaire.

On the kitchen table, against the wall, and finally on this bed.

His chest constricted as he reached beside him, his hand encountering cold, satin sheets.

Even without searching the house, he knew Blaire was gone.

* * *

In all of Grant’s thirty-five years, he could count only a few times when he’d become single-minded in his pursuit of a female. The most obsessed he’d ever been, was when he’d been in eighth grade and he’d stalked the student lockers for a glimpse of Lucy Quinn and her crown of golden curls. He’d been a gangly teen with a mouthful of braces and his fair share of acne. She broke his heart by publicly rejecting him when he’d gathered the courage to bring her flowers on Valentine’s Day. She had accepted them. She did so with such sickening sweetness, Grant knew a train wreck was about to happen and he was going to be its unfortunate casualty. Lucy promptly handed the bouquet to her friend. He’d scrimped two weeks of allowance on those expensive roses.

Then she laughed.

At him.

In the most insulting way.

He learned his lesson early in life that beauty was ephemeral and was a diminishing asset when balanced against the entire package. The next year, he grew almost six inches and started to bulk up, his hormones calmed down and his acne went away. Lucy tried to get with him then, but it was too late because he’d lost interest. There was no desire for revenge either; he simply didn’t care. Grant didn’t have a type—physically beautiful or average, warm or reserved, CEOs or supermodels. He’d even dated a detective. He’d experienced stimulating company, interesting conversation and, for the most part, great sex. But all of them paled to the euphoria of his pursuit of his next business venture or takeover bid. He’d been accused by his partners of being distracted and that frequently triggered the end a relationship. Admittedly, Grant had never given any of his girlfriends a hundred percent of himself. He’d never had a woman live with him. Stayed for a few days, yes, but not one shared closet space. Valerie used to tease him that he’d been ruined by Lucy Quinn. The story of her rejection of Marcus Thorne’s son was like an urban legend given that Grant was now a billionaire and not lacking in looks either.

With Blaire, the rope around his strangled heart unraveled. It unfurled into this connection that nagged him to explore. He wasn’t giving up on her. She was his game changer. His gut told him he’d never find another woman who would fire his blood the way she did.

Grant would admit that he might have moved too quickly, but he wasn’t known for his patience. Her hesitancy before they fucked, and her statement that they were a bad idea bothered him. He responded in the heat of the moment, thinking it was foreplay, but he was wondering if there’d been real conflict behind her words.

He’d never been in love before, but he felt he was on the cusp of something life-altering. The challenge was convincing Blaire that what they’d shared was special, worth pursuing, and not something to run away from.

The ringing sound of his phone pulled him from his thoughts. He slid the device from his pocket and glanced at the screen. It was his PA. His company almost lost a costly business deal because Grant’s focus had been on Blaire. He sighed in frustration and let the call go to voicemail. He couldn’t manage the corporation long-term from Vail, but he sure as hell wasn’t leaving Blaire behind. A radical idea formed in his head; he was surprised how quickly he wanted to move on it even as he was prepared for her resistance.

Blaire was his woman. He had no qualms of using everything in his arsenal to make sure she was on the same page as he was. As if in sync with his thoughts, his phone rang again.

It was his investigator.

This time, he picked up.