I can’t argue with his logic. Even though I want to—even though I want to hail the benefits of falling in love and having that person there for the rest of your life, I don’t. Mostly because I bet he already knows that. He’s thought about it. Clearly.
And he’s made his choice.
I study his rugged features—the sharpness of his cheekbones, the crooked bend to his nose. The scar that cuts through his left eyebrow. All of these things, these imperfections, somehow make him even more perfect. More attractive. More real.
I bite my lip as my thoughts slow down to a discernible flow.
Grayson Blake may not be relationship material. But he’s real. There’s no bullshit here. Unlike any other man I’ve ever met, he laid out his objectives on the table before anything happened.
He’s not hiding anything. He’s not tricking me or deceiving me.
It certainly puts a different spin on things.
He shifts his weight, and his finger swipes just under the hem of my shirt. Instinctively, I move against it, craving more—more contact. More sparks coursing through my veins.
More him.
“You’re honest,” I say, my voice breathy. “I have to say that for you.”
He nods warily.
“And you’re not wrong, you know,” I admit. “I do want a relationship, but you’re not wrong for not wanting one. We’re just … different.”
“That’s why I avoid you. You’re like a magnet for me. There’s something irresistible about you that I fight because, if I don’t and I give in …” He growls and looks at the ground. “I don’t want to mess with your head.”
I don’t know if it’s his honesty that does it or the fact that I’ve wanted Grayson since I ran into him at Cherry Tree Coffee, but I want him. Even if it’s only once.
He wants me—physically—and even though I want more for my future, why shouldn’t I have the potential ride of my life?
Take this opportunity, Haley. Then you’ll finally … know.
“You don’t want to mess with my head,” I say, pausing to gather my courage, “but what about messing with my body?”
His head snaps to mine. His eyes are wide, his lips parted.
Every inch of my body tingles as I await his response.
“If you’re fucking with me,” he warns.
“Not yet. But if you’d stop talking so damn much, maybe I could be.”
His mouth twists into a slow, sexy grin. “You talk a big game.”
“Well, I’m a woman who knows what she wants.”
“And what’s that?”
“Right now?” I heave a breath and let myself fall over the cliff. “Right now, it’s your cock.”
Seven
Haley
His hands grasp the sides of my face before I can blink. His mouth moves over mine like it’s an oasis in the desert.
His lips are soft yet firm. His palms are scratchy from working with metal and chemicals and still manage to hold me like a valuable possession.
My body goes limp in his arms. He scoops me against him, holding me against the hard wall of his chest. Our mouths open, lips part, as our tongues move together in a perfectly timed dance that I can feel in my toes.
“Shit,” he groans as he pulls away. He rests his forehead on mine as we drag precious air into our lungs. “Are you sure about this?”
This is my one-and-done. It might never happen again.
I look him in the eye and drop my hands to his belt.
“What are the odds anyone comes out here?” I ask.
“Is that a pun?”
I laugh as I unfasten the latch and then work on the buttons.
“Are you fucking serious right now?” he asks me. “Because I feel like you’re going to—fuck.”
He groans out the last word as I fall to my knees and run my palm over the infamous flames inked into his hip. I dip my fingertips beneath the band of his boxers, and his cock springs free.
I take the base of it in my hand and look up.
“Dammit, woman,” he says, struggling to speak.
My body hums with anticipation. The apex of my thighs aches with a dull, hot pulse that only he can put out.
I flick my tongue against the head of his dick as I stroke him up and down. Pebbles cut into my knees, but the discomfort is definitely trumped by the riot in my body that I barely notice.
“Suck it,” he orders.
I lick the swollen head. A salty bead of pre-cum sits on the tip, and I lap it up, watching his Adam’s apple bob in his throat.
Grayson hisses. He reaches down and grips my head in both of his hands. I lick his shaft with the flat side of my tongue, feeling his flex against my mouth.
I regrip his cock and then, ever so slowly, suck him into my mouth.
He blows out a long, volatile breath as he works his fingers into my hair. Feeling him respond to me—to my touch—turns me on even more.
I’m making this man lose control.
I work my hand and mouth up and down his length. My tongue massages the head—rolls and licks him at every possible opportunity. He guides me, his body shaking.
“It’s hard not to fuck your mouth,” he groans as he presses gently against my head.
I lick him up and down again, massaging his balls with my free hand. I glance up, and at the same moment, he looks down. A flash of emotion—something I can’t name—streaks across his face before he stands me back on my feet.
Confused, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
He tugs his jeans over his hips and then takes my hand. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” I ask, struggling to keep up.
He doesn’t answer me. He just leads me over a set of large rocks and into the thick treeline. We walk a few feet into the forest when everything opens up.
I gasp.
An indescribable opening, almost like in a fairy tale, is before us. The trees are tall, creating a web of green overhead. Brown pine needles cover the ground. It looks untouched with the fallen logs and decaying stumps.
“Come on,” Grayson growls.
He leads me across the cove. And then I see it. A solitary swing built out of rope and a piece of heavy lumber.
“How did you know this was here?” I ask.
“I found the swing a few years ago,” he says as we approach it. “There used to be a picnic table too, but the rangers removed it a while back. This used to be a picnic area, but no one ever comes out here now that they’ve done so much with Wildflower Falls.”
He drags me in front of him with my back to the swing. His jaw is set in place.
“Do you want fucked, Miss Morgan?”
My insides melt. My core becomes ground zero for the turbulent hormones surging inside me. They come together and then attack my sex, engorging it in preparation for Grayson.
“Please,” I say, lifting a brow in a faux display of cool confidence. “Fuck me, Grayson.”
His eyes glimmer. “Take off your clothes.”
“What?” I look around. This is a private place, and I’m ninety-nine percent sure no one is going to find us. But getting naked in a forest rips away the boldness I felt a half a second ago. “All of them?”
“All of them. Now.”