Grant went cold again, and I have no idea why. Before I got in the car he was fine. Joking, happy, smiling. Then, all of a sudden, he changed. His mood turned icy and his face rigid with tension.

The car is silent as he maneuvers through Berkeley and toward San Francisco.

“You live in the city?” I ask, trying to cut the tension in the car.

He nods but doesn’t say anything.

I put my hand over his thigh and just leave it there, sharing my energy and my warmth, in the hope he’ll work through whatever issue is plaguing him.

“Where do you see us going?” Grant says abruptly, his words devoid of any emotion.

“Uh, to an Italian restaurant?” I chuckle, and for a moment, his lips twitch. I rub his thigh. “What’s wrong? You were happy a minute ago.”

He places his hand over mine, lifts it to his mouth, and kisses each fingertip and then my palm before placing it back down over his thigh, where he continues to hold my hand.

His hand chakras start spinning, and I can feel our energy colliding, weaving together. I squeeze his hand in mine.

“I mean, where do you see us going in our relationship?”

A laugh bubbles up and slips out.

His eyes flash to mine, and they are serious as a heart attack. It’s not at all the response, or the question, I’d expect from him. It’s far too telling for a man like him.

“Big man, what has got you so fired up? You were fine a moment ago.”

“I just…need to know where you think this is going. What future you think we have.”

“Okay.” I swallow the sudden dryness in my throat. “I hadn’t exactly thought too far ahead since we’ve only been a couple for all of forty-eight hours.”

He scowls. “Feels much longer to me.”

I smile. “I like that.”

His brows furrow. “You don’t feel the same?”

“What is this all about? One moment I’m kissing you, packing a bag, and preparing to have yummy pasta and then even yummier sex, and now we’re talking about the future?”

His features change, and his words are hard when he responds. “Do. You. See. Me. In. Your. Future? It’s a simple question.” His jaw is tight, firm in a way that emphasizes my response means something to him. Something very important.

I think back to earlier today when I was teaching classes, and my mind would wander to Grant.

Sex with Grant.

Eating with Grant.

Holding hands with Grant.

Sexy yoga with Grant.

Laughing with Grant.

“Well, today I spent the day thinking of nothing but you and how much I wanted to be with you. How thankful I am that I’ve found a man who wants me.”

He scoffs. “Every man wants you. You’re gorgeous, innocent, have the most kissable lips, the prettiest eyes, and your body is made for sin. Besides, you’re gorgeous.”

“You already said gorgeous,” I whisper.

“It was worth repeating twice,” he deadpans.

A flurry of butterflies builds in my stomach at his admission. This time, I lift his hand and bring it to my lips. “I think you’re gorgeous too. So handsome that every woman notices. Confident. Arrogant. And protective in a way that makes me feel safe. I see nothing but happiness in a possible future with you. As long as we’re together, anything is possible. Don’t you feel it?”

He swallows and closes his eyes for a mere second before focusing back on the road. The chilliness in the air seeps out, and the warmth resumes inside the car. His wood-and-spice scent permeates the air around me, and I want to cuddle in it. Breathe it in for eternity.

“Thank you.” His words are coated in emotion, but I can’t place which one.

“For what?”

“Your honesty.”

I grip his hand tighter. “I’ll always be honest with you.”

He glances at me, his eyes sad but with a renewed hope flickering behind them. “I’m counting on it.”

* * *

Dinner tasted like sawdust on my tongue. Grant noticed within ten minutes of receiving our food that I was no longer in the mood to eat. I was set on pushing my food around the plate, waiting for him to share with me the reason behind the weird conversation in the car.

Why would he ask me about our future so soon?

We’ve only dated for a couple days. I guess you could say a little over a couple weeks if you counted the time since I walked into his office ready to battle it out.

As expected, Grant took charge, called for our bill, paid, and had me back in the car, racing toward his apartment. Which, not surprisingly, was in a skyscraper. The same skyscraper he apparently works in.

I cringe as we step into the elevator. “Why do you live where you work?” I ask him but continue to stare at the red numbers climbing up each floor as we pass it.

He leans toward my ear. “Funny question, seeing as you live above Sunflower Bakery, a half a breath from your own workplace.”

I purse my lips. “You’ve got a point.”

He chuckles, the first I’ve heard since we stood outside his car. “Come.” The door opens to the same floor he works on. The reception desk has a soft light above it.

“Why are we at your office?”

“Because that door”—he points to the opposite side of the room and a set of double doors—“is where I live.”

“You literally live on the same floor as your office? I mean, yeah, I live close to Lotus House, which is convenient, very convenient since I don’t have a car, but you actually live in your office. Blech. At least I get to walk the street a little, take in the smells and sounds of the outdoors, walk down to Rainy Day, the bookstore, or sit and chat with my friends in the bakery before I walk up a set of stairs that lead to my super-duper cool loft.”

Grant loops his arm around my waist and clucks his tongue. “You shouldn’t assume something isn’t super-duper cool…” He whispers my words against my ear. A shiver ripples down my spine at his nearness and the seductive tone when he continues speaking against my skin. “Unless you’ve seen it with your own eyes.”

He presses his hand to a panel next to the door. It scans his hand, turns green, and the lock clicks on the door.

“Okay, I gotta admit. That was way cool! Can I try it?”

He smiles. “You could, but it wouldn’t open.”

I frown.

“I’ll have my security team for the building scan your hand and give you unlimited access to the building and my apartment.”

“Really? That sounds suspiciously similar to giving one’s girlfriend a key to his apartment,” I taunt, thinking he’ll laugh along with me.

He doesn’t. Instead he stops at the threshold of his home and takes my coat from my arms. “That’s precisely what I’m doing. And I shall expect a key to yours in return.”

“Um, I’ll have to ask Dara about that,” I admit right off the bat, even though I know it’s not what he wants to hear.

He presses his hand to my lower back to lead me into a totally different space. It looks nothing like an office building but a lush and open apartment.

“Wow.” I glance around and notice the sunken-in living room, where a large black sectional couch sits atop a white carpet. No comfy throw pillows grace the couch. He could use those. Across the large space is the kitchen, black granite countertops, white cabinets, and gleaming silver appliances. Nothing of interest to be seen on the counters. No clutter or stacks of mail. The only thing I can find with color is a fruit bowl—which boasts a couple apples, a few bananas, and a couple oranges—on a gleaming glass kitchen table with mirrored legs.

“This is where you live?” I’m horrified by the lack of warmth. Everything is so cold and monochromatic. I mean, I’ve been to all my guy friends’ apartments, and none of them were this austere. It makes me sad to see that he lives in a world so devoid of color. Heck, I look down at my purple leggings tucked into a pair of black suede boots. A tan tunic with a black leather belt wrapped twice around my waist, my wrists and neck filled with chunky multicolored beaded jewelry, and it slams into me… I’m the most colorful thing in this entire place.

He sighs and leads me to the kitchen. “Yes. Now why would you have to discuss giving your boyfriend a key with Dara?”

I can’t help but glance around at the sheer nothingness surrounding me. It makes me want to take my clothes off and throw them on the floor just so I can see something vibrant in the room. “Um, yeah…” I lick my lips, still shocked by how he lives. “Dara owns the loft. The keys to the loft and the doors are the same as the bakery. Giving you a key to my apartment means giving you a key to her store. I don’t know if she’d approve of that choice at this time.”

Grant scowls, spins on a shiny black shoe, and goes to his wine fridge, where he pulls out a bottle of white wine.

“Wine?”

“Sure.” Hell, just placing the yellow bottle on the counter would make me feel a bit cheerier.

“Why were you upset at dinner?” His tone is questioning, but I can hear the hint of unease.

I shrug. “Why were you so weird in the car?”

“I wasn’t weird.” He frowns.

“To me you were.” I keep my tone low and unassuming. I don’t want to push him, but in order for me to figure out how to help, how to understand him better, I need to know where these mood swings are coming from.

He waves a hand. “It doesn’t matter now. I got over it after you agreed we had a future.”

That is not at all what I said in the car, but I’m not going to fight with him since he’s being open.

“I guess I was just surprised you were worried about it.”

He opens a cabinet and brings down a pair of wineglasses. In the drawer near where he stands, he finds the corkscrew and sets about uncorking the wine.

“This may come as a surprise to you, but I do not have a lot of experience being in a relationship.”

I grin. “No?” I say this sarcastically but with a playful edge.

He cocks an eyebrow and tugs out the cork. “I told you the other night I was keeping you, and you said you were keeping me too. I just wanted make sure that hadn’t changed.”

“In a day?”

He cants his head and pours the wine. “When you say it like that, it sounds silly.”

I smile wide and come around the counter and wrap my hands around his waist, tucking my face against his shoulder. “Because it is silly, my big man. Why do you continue to feel the need to place labels on our relationship? We’ve already agreed we’re together. Is that not enough?”

He sighs and leans into the counter. “When it comes to you, I’m not sure simply being together will ever be enough. I want you too much.”

I spin him around until I can plaster my body to his. He wraps his arms around me. “What do I have to do to prove you have me?” I run my hands down his chest and back up.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m always going to be waiting for you to leave.”

Slowly, and with my intention very obvious, I unbutton the first button of his shirt and then place a kiss to the open space. The second button receives the same treatment, and the third and fourth and fifth, until I’ve opened his shirt and untucked it from his waist.

I look up into his sapphire gaze and am floored with the heat I see burning there.

“Then I think I have some work to do, to show you how very…” I unbuckle his belt. “Very…” I undo his pants and unzip them. “Very…” I let his pants fall to his knees. “Very much I like being exactly where I am.” I palm his large erection before pulling down his boxer briefs and sinking to my knees.

One of his hands instantly goes into my hair to pull it away from my face. I know what he’s doing because, during our sexfest the other day, I found out a tiny fact about Grant Winters. One that turns me on beyond all reason.

My man is a voyeur. He likes to watch me touch and taste him. Which works for me because I like his eyes on me and only me. They’re like a gift bestowed onto me—one I’ll never forsake.

I run my hands up his muscled thighs and scratch my way back down. He shifts, his large penis nearing my mouth, taunting me with its rich, musky scent. I close my eyes and nuzzle my nose at the base of his cock, letting his length rest against my cheek. I breathe him into my lungs, searing his scent on my memory.

“Christ, you really are my own personal fairy princess.”

I grin and kiss the base of his penis, letting my lips drag along each inch, teasing with my tongue when I feel like it.

He closes his eyes but opens them right as I swirl my tongue around the plush tip. A drop of his arousal beads there, proving how much he desires me. His fingers tighten in my hair, but he doesn’t move me. No, he holds my head with reverence, as if he’s honored to have me on my knees about to worship him, when in reality, I’m the one who’s blessed.

After flicking the tip, I suck the knobbed head, swirling my tongue around it with the added benefit of suction until he rocks his head back and groans fully and deeply. The sound ricochets straight into my body, sending the flames of arousal to flicker and spark along every one of my nerve endings. I squirm in my position, wanting to touch myself but remembering this is for him and him alone. This is me showing him my affection, my determination to be here with him and loving every second of it.

He moves one hand from my head, and he grips the counter, bracing his body to allow me to work. I inhale fully through my nose and then take him as deep as I can into my mouth. He’s too big for me to take him all the way, but I do my best. As I reverse my position, I lay the flat of my tongue along his length to give him maximum pleasure while I suck hard. I know he likes it when I use more force, because his fingers dig into my scalp before he realizes his error and softens his touch.

What he doesn’t see is that I like when he’s more forceful with me. We have time. He’ll figure it out as the days turn to weeks, and weeks turn to months, and months turn to years.

Grant’s body arches as I take him in and out of my mouth, sucking with wild abandon.

“Jesus fuck, you’re so damned good with your mouth.” He hisses and pumps his hips, losing his inhibitions along with his reason.

I love every second of it. My chest tightens as heat builds between my thighs, throbbing and ready for him to take charge, but I’m determined to take him to the very end of his release.

I double up my efforts, cupping his balls and squeezing gently as I bob back and forth, fluttering my tongue along the sensitive underside, dipping my tongue into the little slit before repeating the process. When I get him as deep as I can go, I wrap my other hand around the base and jack him along with my movement.

“Lamb…oh, God. Fuck, Luna, I’m gonna blow.” He humps my face, lost to his passion. My own desire swirls and fires through me as I suck and jack him, humming around his cock until he lets my hair go, grabs the counter behind him, thrusts his hips, and cries out. “Yes!”

Shots of his essence coat my tongue over and over, and I swallow it all, working him down the same way he works me down when his head is between my thighs.

Eventually, he puts one of his hands on my head and runs his fingers through my hair. He cups my cheek as I give him one last goodbye suck to the sensitive tip. He trembles, and I smile sexily, letting his penis go. I lick my lips, making sure I’ve got all of him off me, and am shocked to see his manhood jerk, hardening once again.

My eyes must show my surprise as he bends over, lifts me up, and sets me on the counter. “You just gave me the best fucking head of my entire life.” His eyes are swirling with surprise and intrigue.

I shrug and wipe at my lip with my thumb, even though there’s nothing there. He grabs my thumb and sucks the digit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before letting me go.

“You didn’t do that the other night.”

“If I remember correctly, I barely got my mouth on you before you hauled me up and took me again. Besides, a girl’s gotta have some surprises in her pocket to keep her man happy.”

He curls one of his hands around my face and runs his thumb along my bottom lip. “Everything you do makes me happy.”

I smile wide. “You’re just saying that because you got a blow job.”

He chuckles and dips forward to kiss me but instead speaks against my lips. “You think so?”

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and neck. “I hope so.” I wink.

He shakes his head. “You have two choices to make right now.”

“Again with the choices. What is it with you and options?” I rub my forehead against his.

This time, he shrugs. “I don’t know. Just work with me.”

“I thought I just worked you.” I smirk.

He closes his eyes. “Lamb, you are going to bring me to my knees.”

“Yes, please,” I admit, immediately imagining him returning the favor by going down on me in the kitchen.

Grant laughs, and his laughter feels good against my face.

“You can either let me return the favor, right here, right now, or you can allow me to fill your glass with wine. You can share a glass with me, and we can take a bath together in my large tub, where I will make you feel very good and clean…and then I’ll return the favor in my bed.”

I pucker my lips and tilt my head. “How big of a tub are we talking about?”