Wishing For You (Never Too Late Book 2) Read online

  "I can hear you thinking. Relax." His voice rumbled softly into her ear, his arms wrapping around her waist.

  She wasn't a small Hollywood-esque woman. She had curves, which in turn meant she had great breasts and a still perky ass, but she no longer had a flat tummy or smooth, tight skin. This was something she’d been okay with. It had never bothered her. It could have been the artist inside of her that didn't let herself drown in what she wasn't but was more about enlightening what she was.

  Either way, she had never in her life felt this dainty. This feminine. But that was exactly how she felt in his arms.

  "We don't have to do anything tonight." His deep gruff voice snapped her out of her crazy-thought train, and she turned to look at him, her hands at the hem of his soft denim shirt.

  They had already changed the course of their friendship. She was just buying her time till he took her to bed. Because as handsome and debonair as Grant Alexander was, he seemed to be a make-love-in-a- bed type and not the against-the-wall kind.

  "Did you change your mind?" she asked. Looking at him in the light, able to touch him like she'd been dreaming about for months, felt better than good. It felt right.

  "No." She knew he hadn't. He was only trying to make her comfortable and set her overactive mind at rest. “Come here.”

  Hand in hand, he led her to his couch and they sat, her front pressing to his side. Then he looked at her.

  “What?”

  “I pushed us here, crossed the line, and you have to know, honey, I’m damn glad you feel the same way…” Something in her stomach tightened. Something not very nice.

  “But?” Was this where he would tell her some horrible kink he was into or that maybe she was too old for him?

  “We need to talk.”

  “It’s never a great sign when someone starts with ‘we need to talk,’” she sarcastically said, but he didn’t even crack a smile. “Geez, Alexander, spit it out.”

  “Whoever you’re seeing, is it serious?” His voice was deep and so damn sexy, but she couldn’t enjoy it. Her cheeks flamed at his question and under his gaze.

  She breathed in deeply. “No,” she answered, praying he wouldn’t question her and she wouldn’t have to admit how pathetic she was.

  “Okay,” he mumbled, almost as if somehow relieved, and cuddled her in closer. “Are you moving to Paris?” Her head jumped up at his odd question, and she looked at him, wondering if he was being serious.

  “Funny,” she commented, but he looked as if funny was the last thing it was. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. I need to know. If we’re starting something, I need to know if this has some sort of expiration date set from the start.”

  “Why…” She was dumbfounded at the question. “Why would I be moving?”

  “Rhett called earlier. Rumor is, Remington is dropping hints out there that you might be.” She scrunched her face in disgust. Ugh. Remington Drake.

  “I had a drink with him last month,” she shared.

  She had gone down to the hotel bar at the hotel she’d been hiding out at to people watch, and had unfortunately bumped into him. He was handsome, rich, and a complete asshole. She’d never been interested in him like that, but he had caught her in a moment of weakness and she’d agreed to a drink, but that was it.

  “Where?” he scowled.

  “The Beverly Hills Hotel.”

  “Were you there for a meeting?” He frowned, and she rolled her eyes. When would Grant understand that life was more than meetings and work?

  “No.”

  “Then why the hell were you at the Beverly…” his voice tapered off, and he leaned his head back. She straightened her own body to watch him. “Tell me Remington Drake is not the fuckwad you’ve been seeing.” His knee started to bounce, his eyes staring straight ahead, no longer looking at her, his square jaw clenching. And damn, if she was crazy, but he was making her hot. His anger and emotion riled something up in her.

  Thinking about that and what he would be like when they finally went upstairs, she didn’t realize he’d stopped talking and was staring right at her, now shaking his head.

  “Jesus…”

  “What?” She shook her head. “No, eww.” Her disgust of what he was suggesting was more than evident.

  “Eww?” he repeated her answer and no longer looked angry. Instead, he was amused.

  “He’s a grade-A asshole. I’m surprised you’d even think I’d go there. It’s like you don’t even know me.”

  “Honey, you dated that one actor, who…”

  “I did not.” He always brought up the time she went to dinner with an actor, who she was trying to butter up to make a contribution to a children’s after-school art program. He turned out to be a complete skeezeball.

  “It was dinner! And it was for the children’s…” nothing else came out, because his mouth crashed down on hers as he laid her back on the couch, never missing a beat.

  He kissed her, nipping her lips, his tongue swiping in and out of her mouth. The first moment of shock at the fact that Grant Alexander was not only a make-love-in-a-bed, but also a heavy-make-out-on-a-couch kind of man set in, and she wrapped her fingers into his hair, pulling him in closer. His long body was covering hers, and she was in heaven.

  She felt his hands move under the back of her top, his long fingers slightly cool on her over-heated skin. She couldn’t contain the guttural moan that escaped from deep within her. Her skin went from warm to burning up. She wanted so much more. Needed more. Judging from the thick bulge that was rubbing against her, so did he.

  “Grant…” she gasped against his mouth, wrapping her legs around his waist, seeking to be closer to him.

  “Fuck.” His head went to her neck, and she couldn’t help but move to give him more access.

  He had a five-o’clock shadow that was tickling her sensitive skin and making her tingle all over. She gripped his shoulders and moved her hands down to unbutton his shirt, while he lifted his body to give her space. His lips against hers, they shared the same air. She tried to undo the buttons, but between the ache between her legs and the way her hands shook with need, she couldn’t get them, which only left her with one choice really. She couldn’t help herself. With both hands, she pulled the shirt apart, sending the stubborn buttons flying. She couldn’t get herself to care.

  “I’ll buy you a new one,” she murmured, her eyes fixed on his masculine chest right in front of her.

  She felt his body shake, heard his deep chuckle filling the air and some smartass remark, but she didn’t pay attention. She couldn’t. Her sole focus was on touching him. Tasting him. Her hands sliding beneath the fabric. His skin was slightly tan from running shirtless on the beach during the summer. It was freckled and strong, with the perfect amount of dark, coarse hair dusted over his skin to remind her he was all man. Her mouth moved to his collarbone, licking it while he helped her by taking that damn shirt off.

  “Shit, Shell…” The way he growled, his voice a husky rumble, caused wetness to pool at her center.

  She pulled him lower, accessing his neck, and though she was the one kissing and tasting his skin, she wasn’t stupid enough to believe that she was somehow in charge. No. He was giving her access to those things, but no way was she leading. As much as she was for women’s rights, she craved his dominance at that moment.

  “Shell.” He brought them both up. How? She had no idea, but he had. She straddled him on his couch, her hands touching his shoulders, her nails raking gently into his skin. “Fuck.” His hand slid into the back of her hair, pulling the tie out, letting the strands fall, and he tugged her head back. “You’re wearing way too many clothes,” he hissed against her lips.

  The moment she nodded, he dropped his hand and leaned further into the couch. He wanted a show, but suddenly her courage faded. Her heart beat furiously. Her nerves created havoc. She felt like she was on a ledge and unsure of where she was about to land if she jumped.

  "This could be a really
bad idea," she commented. Regardless of how late that statement was made, it needed to be said.

  “Shelly…”

  “I don’t look like them,” she blurted, darting her vision down at her hands resting on the smoothness of his tan stomach with dark hair trailing down to a very happy place. Even nervous, she didn’t stop touching him.

  “Like who?”

  “The women you messed around with after Olivia.”

  “Honey, look at me.” His gentle voice made her look up at him, and her words suddenly felt silly because of what she saw in front of her.

  “You’ve been driving me crazy for a year.”

  “But…” she started to argue when he pushed his hardness up against her, making her back arch.

  “Fuck!” he hissed, his eyes dark on her chest. “I’m dying to see you, honey.” He was being honest, and suddenly her apprehension faded away. “I want you so fucking bad.”

  The way his deep voice bit out those words, full of need and desire, made her lick her lips. She watched as his eyes devoured the sight. Damn, that was hot. He wanted her. Bad. That fed her confidence.

  The tips of her fingers made their way up his forearms with a feather-light touch, leaving a slight trail of need behind until she reached his shoulders, where one stayed and the other moved to the back of his neck, pulling him close.

  “You want me?” she asked, her voice husky.

  “You know I do,” he replied, his jaw twitching. She couldn’t help but grin at him as she rolled her hips into his lap, wishing there were no barriers between them, almost closing her eyes in pleasure with how good he felt.

  “Watch me,” she said seductively, his hands at the sides of her ass. His back hit the couch, and he lay back to watch her.

  Her own hands trailed back down his body and up to hers, skimmed the bottom of the hem of her shirt, then went up to her chest. His hooded eyes stared intently. Oh yeah, he wanted a show! She moved her hands back down, her fingers skimming between her breasts. He growled.

  “Shell,” he warned, and she smirked, her hands going to the hem of her shirt and pulling it up slowly. His hold on her hips tightened, and her sex clenched. She exposed the bottom of her black lacey demi bra when his hands moved up to the bare skin of her sides. She closed her eyes as a shiver fell over her body. She lifted her shirt and threw it over her shoulder haphazardly, without paying attention as to where it landed. Her fingers slid into and down her hair, down her neck. She closed her eyes, thinking about how good it would feel if it were his touch.

  The thought made her hips swivel reflexively, rolling into his hardness, her eyes closing and her mouth parting at how good it felt. Her fingers moved from her collarbone down between the valleys of her breasts that were on display in one of the sexiest bras she owned. She moved to grab his hand, her eyes transfixed by his as she led his hand up her body, her nipples straining to be touched. She was going to tease him. His hands reached right below her mouth, and she kissed his palm. Slowly and lightly, she kissed the tips of his fingers, all while she watched him. Watched his reaction. The fire burning in his eyes made her brave as she brought his pointer finger into her mouth. His eyes moved from her lips to her eyes, and she knew he liked it. She moaned when he sat deeper into the couch, bringing his hard length to an even better spot.

  “Fuck,” he cursed, his free hand digging deeper into the flesh at her side. She sucked. She licked. She nipped. She felt sexy while doing it. Closing her eyes slowly, looking down at him with hooded eyes, she knew he was getting off on it too. “Shell…” he warned again, and she hallowed her cheeks the moment two of his fingers were in her mouth. She was hardly inexperienced. She had always been sexually adventurous and enjoyed almost every act possible. But none had felt as erotic as that moment.

  In the blink of an eye, he grunted deeply, while she lost his hand and fingers and was thrown onto the couch, his body looming over hers.

  “I hope you’re fucking ready,” he growled, a hand at her waistband undoing her shorts, pushing them down alongside her panties. “God, you’re fucking wet. I can smell your pussy. Did you get off on that? Sucking my fingers? Did you wish it was my cock?” His voice rumbled deeply. Just the way he spoke surprised the hell out of her. Here she’d been expecting soft and sweet from him, and she was getting hot and dirty. So much, she could have had an orgasm with a couple more sentences from his lips.

  Who knew Mr. Propriety could talk dirty?

  “Grant…”her voice was breathy. She was completely caught off guard by his dominant behavior.

  “Tell me…” his nose nuzzled down into her neck, while one of his hands splayed open wide as it came up her bare thigh. He stopped only mere centimeters from her neatly trimmed mound, making her moan... Every cell in her body ached for more.

  “Grant, please.” Her strangled cry fell onto deaf ears as his touch lightened over her thigh. She bucked up, hoping that would have him catch her drift, but instead, he held her thigh tightly down.

  “Tell me.”

  “Yes,” she whimpered as his mouth opened over her neck and he kissed her.

  Wet and warm heat coursed through her body. His mouth traveled down from hers. Over her neck to reach her collarbone, down to her lace-covered breast. He took one in his hands, his mouth right over it. She could feel the heat from his breath even with the lace in between.

  “I fucking love lace.” He sucked, and between the wetness of his mouth and the slight rasp against her puckered nipple, her head dug deeper into the cushion of the couch.

  Her soft cries filled the room. He did the same thing to her other breast, whispering something about black being his new favorite color, and she couldn’t make a smartass remark about black not being a color, because it felt so damn good. Nothing had ever felt as great.

  He moved lower to her belly, kissing her navel as he headed down toward her neatly trimmed mound. His fingers slid through her dampened curls and into her wetness, just as he bit her hip. She cried out. The air grew heavy and hot. The smell of sex filled their space as he worked her with his fingers, bringing her to the edge of orgasm. On the brink of making her come, he pulled his fingers out of her. About to complain, she opened her mouth, but shut it after seeing the look he gave her.

  “I’m not going to hold back,” he bit out. The sound of his belt being undone was clear in her ears. “You’re going to take what I give you, do you understand?” Before she could respond, his lips crashed down on hers hard and hungrily. She heard the rasp of his zipper and felt him thrust into her in one swift move. She moaned. He filled her completely. Moving her legs up to his hip, she thought he was going to fuck her, but he didn’t move. He softened the kiss while he stayed still inside her.

  “Fuck,” he bit out, and she watched him shut his eyes tightly. “Fuck! You’re so damn wet. Fuck, honey… You feel so damn good.”

  “Grant…”

  “Better than I thought…”

  “Baby…” He slid out and slammed back into her.

  It was hard, rough, and just what her body needed. How he knew that was beyond her, but somehow he did. He worked her body like he’d done this a hundred times, and it was magnificent. All hands and mouth, his cock filling her like she had never been filled before. Building the high, higher and higher. Her body tightened, her breathing turned heavy as he glided expertly in and out of her body.

  “You’re close.” She was. So damn close she could feel the tension in her body start to mount.

  “Grant…”She was breathless, fighting coming too soon. She wanted this to last.

  “Look at me.” He gritted his teeth, and she bit her lower lip, forcing herself to keep her eyes trained on his. “Fuck,” he groaned. “Your eyes undo me, honey… prettiest shade of whiskey…” he bit out. He was so fucking hard she couldn’t help but arch her back, meeting him thrust for thrust.

  “Let go!” he ordered as she held on to the muscles on his shoulders, her nails biting into his freckled, tan skin.

  One, tw
o, three thrusts, and her body soared, her mouth parted as she cried out in pleasure, and she flew almost as if undergoing an out-of-body experience. Wave after wave of beauty crashed against her soul and hit her heart, hard at first and then soothing out to a slow lullaby.

  With one last grunt, he thrusted forward, and she felt his release deep, her limbs tightly holding on to his body. His face in her chest, his breathing heavy, the delicious weight of his body blanketing hers, she’d never felt something as wonderful as that. She felt wetness hit her eyes and didn't understand it. Fearing he would see her tears and she’d somehow ruin this perfect moment, she held on to him closer. Her limbs curled up deeper into him.

  What they'd shared was rough and dirty and all kinds of hot, but it was also the first time she'd shared herself with someone she was in love with. Like many times in her life, she knew it was a cry or laugh moment, and she decided like all those other times what it would be. She wasn't a cry kind of girl.

  A giggle bubbled up from deep within her chest, like glitter exploding from her heart, and he looked at her. His blue eyes were warm and more than satisfied. She wanted to sketch that look. She wanted to do whatever it took to get that look on his face over and over again. He brushed her hair out of her face, and then his lips touched hers.

  “What's funny?” His voice felt like fine silk over her skin. She pressed her lips together.

  “Nothing.” She shook her head, and his fingertips skimmed her right cheek.

  “Tell me,” he ordered gently, sliding in and out of her slowly. Her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation.

  “Shelly…”

  “Hmm…” she managed to say, mixed with a tiny moan.

  “What made you laugh?” he asked and licked her lip. She opened her eyes to look at him, her hands moving to his face.

  “Serious and grouchy Grant Alexander can fuck,” she admitted, and he stopped moving, still rooted deep inside of her.