Just One Regret(18)

He yanks me to him so there isn’t an inch of space separating us, and I gasp.

“Grayson,” I say, breathing out his name. In my heels, I’m tall enough that he doesn’t have to dip his head much to speak to me. I like that I don’t feel dwarfed by his muscular and strong frame.

His hand runs up my back in a soothing manner. “You heard me, Kennedy,” he says over the music. I know I did. I can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against the most intimate parts of mine. Between his black dress pants and my thin fabric, it feels as if there’s nothing between him and me.

I quiver as his hand slides to the back of my neck and then over my shoulder. His hips rock to the beat of the techno music in half-time—quick enough that we don’t look out of place, slow enough that we stay connected, and I can feel every shift of his weight.

“You’re so sexy, and I’ve missed you so much. I want to figure out a way to be together.”

His words are everything I wanted to hear. They’re just six years too late.

I close my eyes, allowing myself to imagine a fantasy world where Grayson doesn’t despise me, that my name doesn’t become a curse on his beautifully thick lips, and come up empty.

The music changes to a faster, louder beat and I’m able to avoid answering. I want it, too—more than anything.

To show him how much I’d like that, I lean forward, brushing my lips across his jawline. He hasn’t shaved since before his fight and the hair prickles my lips. Wrapping my fingers at the base of his neck and tangling them in his hair, I pull him to me.

“Kiss me, Grayson.”

His eyes darken. Lights from above us reflect off his baby blues, making them appear vicious and unrelenting—two things I know he can be in the gym. His lips take mine in an unyielding kiss as he presses his tongue against mine, tangling the two together.

There’s no buildup. That’s been happening for the last twenty-four hours.

The meeting of our mouths is an explosion of pent-up energy and attraction that’s been building for the last twelve years.

I groan into his mouth, feeling the vibrations rattle in my throat. He responds the same way and pulls me against him. I shift, rolling my hips to the beat and his movements, pressing my sex against his thigh. Before I can stop myself, I’m grinding against him, feeling the pressure at the tops of my thighs building at an unrelenting pace.

I tip my head back, needing breath, and he spins me around so my back is to his chest.

“Come home with me,” he shouts over the music into my ear. He kisses the side of my neck and I press my backside against him. “Let me take you.” Another kiss. Lower. His hands slide to my front. “Let me take my time.” His hands slide lower, past the hem of my mini-dress. “I want you, Kennedy. Always have.” Another kiss at my collarbone. Another roll of his hips into me.

I become mindless, completely entranced in the ecstasy he’s creating with every brush of his lips, every word spoken.

I can only nod, unable to speak. The effort would be futile over the music. He can’t hear me.

I doubt he’ll let me walk away, anyway.

My hands slide down my stomach until they cover his hands. I lean against him, twisting my neck until my lips are pressed to the column of his throat. Then I slide his fingers under the hem of my dress, up my thighs, directly to where I want him most.

The song fades, the volume subsiding to a more manageable level, and I press onto my toes, whispering in his ear, “Take me, Grayson. Tonight, I’m yours.”











“You’re nervous.”

It’s not a question, but I’m compelled to answer him all the same. Between fevered kisses, our tongues sliding against each other’s in the backseat of a cab, giving the driver a very long prelude as to what we were going to be doing as soon as he dropped us off, the rushed walk through the hotel lobby, and the elevator whisking us to the penthouse, I’ve had too much time to consider what’s about to happen.

Having sex with Grayson.

I don’t know if my heart can handle it again.

“Kennedy,” he says, and I turn around, putting my back to the view of the Vegas Strip. “Why are you nervous?”

I slide my hands down my thighs, feeling the clamminess in my palms. Gross.

With a fortifying breath, I walk toward him, reveling in the way he stands straight and strong, hands flexing and clasping at his sides as if he can’t wait to put them on me. As if the restraint in not doing so is testing the very limits of his self-control..

“That woman at the club,” I say, referring to the woman who shoved her breasts in his face. “Does that happen a lot?”

A look of something akin to regret or embarrassment flashes in his eyes. “It’s all part of the game.”

“I know.” I run my hands through my hair. I’m fidgeting like the awkward loner schoolgirl I used to be, but I can’t seem to stop. “I know that, and I’m not asking about women you’ve been with.”

“A lot.”

I blink multiple times. “What?” I ask, confusion thickening my voice.

“I’ve been with a lot of women.” He takes a confident step toward me, hand raised as if to take mine in his or grab me if I take off running. “I’ve had hundreds shove their tits in my face over the years. And do you know what it meant to me?”

I shake my head, unable to speak. I also notice I’m not moving away from his slow prowl toward me.

My feet are firmly planted. My heart lodges in my throat.

“What?” I ask, scraping my voice off the carpet.

“Nothing.”

His eyes narrow when he reaches me. His outstretched hand grips my hip, then slides to the small of my back, and he pulls me toward him. My hands fly out and land on his chest, my fingertips digging into the tight curves of his hard-earned muscles.

The thought of him being with other women isn’t something I want to hear or think about, but I can’t fault him for being honest with me.

“None of that matters to me, Kennedy. The only thing I care about is you. Right here. Right now.”

He leans down and softly brushes his lips against mine and I close my eyes at the touch, clutching my hands into the fabric of his shirt. I want to lock these feelings into memory because I don’t know how this will turn out once he learns what I did. I can feel the ache in my chest at the thought of what might happen, but I push it aside. Tonight is what I need to focus on. Tonight I have him in my arms. I want him, even if it will only be for one more night.

I open my mouth to him, and he kisses me deeper, pulls me closer. Our chests heave as I slide my hands up to his shoulders and to the back his neck.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he rasps, pulling away from my lips and placing kisses down my neck.

I tilt my head to the side, giving him better access.

“Yes, me too,” I whisper before his lips are on mine again.

He makes love to my mouth and I groan at the feeling it sends between my legs as he walks me backward. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been turned on to the point of combustion.

My back meets the wall and I feel his hands trail down to the hem of my dress and grip the fabric. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth before pulling away and looking into my eyes. No words are spoken as he delicately starts lifting the dress, inch by inch, like he doesn’t want to miss a single second of what he’s exposing. His eyes pierce into mine as if he is a starving man who has finally found something to quench his hunger. I bite my lip as excitement courses through me and I untwine my arms from around his neck, lifting them above my head. Giving him all the permission he needs.

In one swift movement my dress is lifted off and tossed to the floor, leaving me in nothing but a white sheer bra and my heels. A blush breaks out on my skin as I watch his eyes drift down to my bare pussy and I feel slightly self-conscious.

“Fuck. You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes as his eyes drift up to mine.

I smile at his words, my confidence returning when he places his hands on my hips once again. My breaths pick up and I grab onto his biceps as one of his hands drifts down my stomach.

My eyes close as soon as his hand cups me. I can hear his breathing pick up as he glides a finger between my lips, feeling my juices.

“You’re so wet.”

I moan as he starts rubbing circles around my clit and my grip on his forearms tightens. The buildup from the night’s foreplay already has me wanting to explode.

“Open your eyes and look at me.”

I drag them open and his lust-filled blue eyes stare back at me as he pulls his hand away. I frown at the loss of contact, then I widen my gaze as he wraps his lips around his wet fingers, sucking off the juices he just coated them with. He closes his eyes and groans before looking back at me.

“Grayson,” I whimper, my hands moving up his arms to his shoulders. My hips push toward him, seeking relief from the need he’s creating.

My heart is pounding against my ribs and everything inside me bursts alive.

As if he understands, or can see the trepidation and concern I’m trying to push down completely, he drops to his knees and lifts my right leg over his shoulder.

Then he buries his head between my legs.

I cry out, at the same time my fingers dig into his scalp and my head hits the wall behind me.