Grayson's Vow(49)

"Grayson," she groaned, tangling her fingers in my hair. I lowered my mouth to one stiff peak and licked at it, swirling my tongue around and around.

"God, you do," I moaned, "taste as sweet as you look."

"I said we shouldn't . . . this isn't . . ." Her words left off in a breathy sigh. A few seconds later, those breaths turned to pants. At her response, I wrapped my lips fully around her nipple and suckled, pulling it into my mouth and then using my tongue to soothe it gently. She cried out, pulling at my hair. "Oh God, Gray," she groaned. "You, we have to—"

"Shh, little witch," I soothed, taking the other nipple in my mouth and sucking gently before pulling back. "Let yourself enjoy this."

I eased her thighs apart, putting one of my knees between them. She gazed up at me with eyes unfocused and drugged with arousal. A primitive male triumph made my gut clench, and I pressed my erection against her belly as I leaned in to kiss her again. Her body suddenly went rigid and she turned her head. "No," she said, her voice soft and still scratchy with passion.

"Yes," I said, leaning back in. She pushed at my shoulders.

"No," she said more firmly. I groaned, rolling to the side. She stood quickly, pulling her dress up, looking as if she was having trouble making her legs cooperate. My body pulsed painfully with unspent lust. God, I wanted her. She made a concerted effort to appear unaffected. "I should get to bed."

My arm shot out and I grabbed her hand before she could run.

"I meant what I said, Kira. There's no reason we have to sleep alone. We could . . . consummate this marriage. You feel what we have between us as much as I do." I gave her my most charming smile, but she looked away and pulled her hand free of mine, the lines of her body tense, her eyes confused and slightly pained.

"Did you tell me that story so this," she moved her hand back and forth between the two of us, "would happen?"

Confusion made me pause. "What story?"

"About the puppy."

"The puppy? What? No." Did she think I had told her about that to manipulate her into kissing me? I pressed my lips together.

She studied me for a moment and then let out a sharp breath. "I told you, Grayson, I'm not interested in that . . . in this." She gestured between her and me once again. "It would only complicate an already complicated situation. This wasn't our deal."

"Deals change all the time." I sat up and brought my leg over the chair and stood up to face her. I took a lock of her hair between my fingers, testing its silky texture, wishing the moon brought out its fiery highlights the way the sun did. But in this light, its fire was shadowed. When I made love to her, I wanted it always to be in light so I could see the flames in her hair, the glow of her emerald eyes. I wanted to see all the ways in which her body proclaimed she was life itself, full of heat and passion. My body throbbed again, still hard at the very thought of making love to her . . . for hours and hours. Or, hell, even just once . . . "It can be temporary, Kira. Just like our marriage."

She blinked at me and brought her hands to her cheeks as if they were warm. I couldn't tell in this light whether that was the case, though, or not. "It wouldn’t work. Just trust me." She turned toward the stone staircase up to the house. I called her name, but she didn't turn around and she didn't look back. I sat back down on the lounge chair, letting out a long, sexually frustrated sigh, trying to figure out what had just happened. I had no idea how to handle my own wife. Women had always come easily to me. Keeping them . . . well, Vanessa had proven that might be a different matter. But Kira and I had already established our relationship would be temporary so, with her, that wasn't an issue. I’d never experienced being turned down for sex, though, especially when I turned on my charm. I wasn't being arrogant—it was just the truth. Did I actually know how to seduce a woman? An unwilling one? How ironic that the first woman I had to work for was my very own wife.



**********



"See you on Monday, Charlotte," I said, leaning forward and kissing her soft cheek. It was Friday morning, and she and Walter were taking a weekend trip to San Francisco to visit friends.

"There are several casseroles in the freezer, with instructions written right on top," she said. "Oh, and I baked a batch of those citrus butter cookies you like. They're in tin foil in—"

"Charlotte," I chuckled, "I'm a grown man. I can take care of myself for the weekend."

She smiled, shaking her head, and pinching my cheek affectionately. "I like taking care of you. Just let me dote. Oh! And please tell Kira I baked her the brown sugar oatmeal cookies she likes. Where is she anyway? I thought she'd come up to the house to say goodbye."