Amanda had never been in Grady’s bedroom. Grady closed the pine double doors that sported a carving of an aspen forest. The floor-to-ceiling windows looked out onto what was a spectacular view of the Rockies in the daytime. A fireplace graced a sitting area a short distance from a wet bar. Seeing the large bed, she remembered the girls telling her the TV rose from the foot of the bed because they had broken it by trying to ride it. The walls were painted in muted earth tones, echoed in the rugs and bedclothes. A vast bathroom and room-sized closet were both along the same wall of the welcoming, peaceful space.
He stood at the wet bar. “Water? Tea? Champagne?”
“You have champagne?”
“My bedroom is a happy place. Champagne’s a happy drink. Want some?”
“Thanks, I’ve had quite enough.”
“You riders are lightweights. I bet the horses drink. You know the old joke.”
She furrowed her brow and shook her head slightly.
“Horse walks into a bar. Bartender says, ‘Why the long face?’ ”
Amanda groaned, closed her eyes, and smiled in spite of herself.
“You have the most glorious smile, do you know that?” He moved to her and kissed her lips tenderly, his hands finding hers at her sides and linking fingers. “I want to make you smile often.” Another light kiss. And another. He took her lower lip between his teeth ever so gently. She tried to kiss him back, but he teased her and kissed her cheeks. He kissed her eyelids. Her forehead. Her eyebrows. He kissed her earlobes, then sucked them into his mouth. And he kissed the tip of her nose, which made him smile. She smiled too, and their foreheads touched. They stayed this way for a long time, connected. She could feel him, hear him breathe. She felt she’d be able to read his thoughts soon if they stayed like this. What was it about him?
She broke the trance by kissing his mouth hard, pouring all she had into it. She began to unbutton his shirt. She fumbled with the lower buttons and he grabbed his shirttails and wrenched. Buttons clattered across the wood floor. She smoothed his shirt off of his shoulders and onto the floor.
His body was absurd, all hard angles and flat plains. He smelled of soap and sage, carried like incense by the heat that rose from him. She cruised her hands over his lean torso and he moaned as she raked her fingers down his back. Touching him was like a drug, and she swept her hands over him as though afraid he’d disappear if she stopped.
Grady was consumed by her. Her hands on his body were like birds flying in hot streaks, and wherever her fingers went, he felt sparks. He roamed his hands over her firm back, and now cupped the sublime curve of her jeans-clad ass. He grabbed her bottom and lifted her off her feet, and she squealed.
“You’re very light.” He returned her to earth.
“You just like my ass,” she said drily.
“Well, yeah.”
After unbuttoning her blouse, kissing as he went, he slid it off and hung it on the bedpost. He took a step back and let his eyes journey over her. Her upper body was stunning, toned from a summer of barn work, her skin taut and smooth. He slid his hand across her flat belly and feminine six-pack.
“Wow. That’s some body you’ve got there.”
“Says the man who’s boinked countless supermodels.”
“I object to the term ‘boink.’ And you’d give any supermodel a run for her money. Besides, you got this body from doing something you love. That makes it better. Real. And,” he said, drawing out the word as he took in her breasts and hips, “you have curves. And muscle. Much, much better than those skeletons. Okay?”
“Okay.” She paused, looking at him, one side of her mouth curving up. “I just thought of something. I have my very own action hero.”
He flashed his best bad-boy smile. “Completely at your service.” He took her mouth with his. Without breaking the kiss, he led her to the fireplace and lowered her to the thick white faux fur rug in front of it. He switched on the fire. Somewhere along the way, she lost her bra.
Grady stopped breathing for full seconds when he saw her breasts, illuminated by firelight. He knelt, then slid his palms over them, cupped them, felt their fullness and warmth. He touched the tip of his tongue to her nipple, and she shuddered. Closing his mouth around one peak, then the other, he feasted like a starving man, eliciting shudders, moans, and shivers from her.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this turned on. He’d been ignoring his growing erection, but now it was painful within his jeans. He stood up and started to unfasten his belt.
Amanda stood, too. “Let me.” She reached for the buckle.
“No, I’m too close.” His jeans dropped with a thud as the buckle hit the rug.
“I take it you’re having fun,” she said in that husky voice he liked. He kicked his jeans aside and eased her back down.
“Shh.” He lowered his mouth to an erect, pink tip. He suckled, and Amanda arched toward him, her breath ragged. He switched to the other nipple while he pinched the other with his fingers, and she made a sound in her throat that made him feel like he’d just acquired several million new nerve endings in his groin, all of them firing.
He kissed her mouth while he slid his hand down her strong midline and unzipped her jeans. He removed them, then took in her hips and legs, gilded by the fire. Gorgeous. Everything about her was long and lean and tempting. He wanted to bite and lick and devour until she begged for mercy.
“Jesus, Amanda. You’re so . . . ,” he said, his voice gruff. He turned his attention to her black lace panties and skimmed his finger along the waistband for a good long time, then slid his hand down between her legs, taunting her. She helped him remove the panties, and his boxer briefs went, too.
He knelt by her feet and kissed the insides of her knees. He stroked, kissed, licked, and nibbled his way up one thigh. Then he started at the other knee and kissed and nibbled his way up the silky inside of the other thigh. He acted like he had all the time in the world, purely to make her crazy. From the sounds she was making, it was working.
Finally he positioned his mouth just above her curls. He had to taste her. He gently parted her with his fingers, then touched the tip of his tongue to her. She gasped, then groaned, pushing up to meet his mouth. He went into a trance as he teased and tasted, his senses filling with her. He wanted to give her more pleasure than any man ever had. He wanted to make up for that bastard who had dumped her. He wanted her to lose herself and heal from her trauma and know she could trust him with her life.
He slid a finger inside her. Even as she squirmed and scraped her heels on the rug—which increased the challenge—he kept at her. He wanted to drive her mad. He wanted to make her scream. He wanted to give her the hardest, deepest orgasm any woman had ever had. He felt her begin to shake, sensed she was sliding over the edge, and gave her one last push as he slid three fingers inside of her.
She exploded. Grady pressed his hand hard between her legs to anchor her as he watched her face. She cried out, her hips convulsing as wave after wave swept through her, her body bucking and jerking. It was the most arousing thing he’d ever seen.
As she quieted, she looked at him with glassy eyes. Between gasps, she said, “God. You should warn a person before you do that. I think I ruptured something.”
He laughed and kissed her mouth softly, not a little turned on by the knowledge that she could taste herself on his lips and tongue.
“So you liked that?”
“Geez!” She was still struggling for air, and it wasn’t because they were eight thousand feet above sea level. “Yes.”
He grinned. “Good. Because I’m not nearly finished with you.”
She shivered, which pleased him.
He stroked her cheek with his fingertips. “You still okay with this? Because in a minute I won’t be able to stop.”
“Please. I want you inside me.”
He almost came right then. It wasn’t what she said—past partners had uttered far more outrageous things. It was that she said it, which meant this woman he loved wanted him as much as he wanted her.
“Hang on.” He lurched to his feet and grabbed a condom from the bedside table drawer. He wrenched open the packet and rolled it on.
Returning to a flushed and sexily gorgeous Amanda, he gently explored the inside of her mouth with his tongue as he nestled between her thighs. She took his thick, heavy erection in her hands to guide him. He entered her slowly. Now it was his turn to moan as she closed around him in a slick, hot embrace.
He knew she’d feel good, but he wasn’t prepared for just how good. He didn’t move for a few moments, wanting her to get used to him. Several excruciating seconds later, he was buried in her. He felt her tighten, and he expelled the breath he’d been holding. He withdrew until he was almost out of her, then slowly pushed back in. He did this several more times—pulling out and pushing in, each time faster, kissing her with the same growing need. Jolts of pleasure shot through him.
Amanda stared at him, her lust-glazed eyes fastened on his in abject desire. He quickened his rhythm. Both of them were breathing like marathon runners, and he swallowed her moans as he kissed her mouth, needing to cover her, greedily connecting with her at this other warm, sweet, sensitive juncture.
Then it was down to two more thrusts.
One.
Two.
His nerve endings were firing on all cylinders as he plunged deep, rocketing into her. He was simultaneously lost and found—he lost himself in the delirium of sensation, but knew he had found himself, that he had found . . . home.
When the storm subsided, he settled on top of her. He needed to stay connected to her. They were both slick with sweat and breathing hard. She looked at him dreamily, and as he returned her gaze, a tsunami of feeling overcame him that dwarfed even the mind-blowing orgasm.
There it was again. He loved her. With soul-deep certainty, he knew he loved her.
He rested his forehead on the rug next to her cheek and whispered, “Oh, Amanda. I can’t find words for you.” They lay there, torsos pressed together. He could feel her heart beating inches from his own. He felt her fingers drift up and down his back, like sea grass in a lazy current. He closed his eyes and thought—absurdly—that if he ever needed a sense memory for perfection in a scene, this was it.
Their breathing almost back to normal, Grady levered himself up and gave her a lingering, petal-light kiss. “You are a miracle.”
She smiled slowly. “Even miracles have to use the bathroom.” She kissed him, got to her feet, and crossed to the bathroom.
He poured himself some water. “Do you want anything to drink? Or eat? Can I get you anything at all?”
“No thanks. I’m good,” she called from behind the door.
“Honey, you’re a helluva lot better than good.”
She laughed as she joined him next to the bed, her body pink and perfect and lovely. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” She kissed him, then slid between the sheets.
He grinned. “I certainly hope so. Don’t go anywhere.” And he used the bathroom.
“So . . . ” He strolled to her a minute later. He used the same gravelly tone that had sent Nicole Kidman into his character’s bed in one of his films. “Exactly how far will flattery get me?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.” She smiled as she lifted the comforter and he got into bed and pulled her into his arms. She laid her head on his chest and slid her arm around him.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Mm-hm. Better than okay.”
“Good. Me, too. Much better than okay.” He took in a breath. “As a matter of fact, I’m better than fantastic. You were—you are—amazing.”
“There were two of us there, you know.”
“Oh, right. I seem to recall that. But I think our incredible, fantastic, stupendous sex has a lot to do with all those strings attached. As long as it’s with you, I’m a huge fan of bondage.”
She laughed and nestled her head against his chest. She was quiet for a time, and he didn’t speak either, not wanting to bruise the mood. She smelled so good. It felt so good to lie there with her, his body spent and warm.
He whispered, “Good night, Amanda.”
“’Night.” She paused. “Um, I’m never going to fall asleep like this. How do you feel about spooning?”
“My favorite flatware.” She turned over and he put his arm around her. He scattered kisses across the firm curve of her shoulder. “Mmm. Good night, Mortified. Sleep tight.”
He wasn’t sure how he was going to sleep, not with this wonderful, naked woman tucked against him. Not with the images from the night whirling in his head. Not when his love for her had been reinforced with emotional rebar.
But somehow he did.