Harlow

Grant’s apartment was just outside Rosemary. It was small and I was surprised by that, but then again I wasn’t. His place looked like him. The furniture was worn and it was everything a bachelor pad should be, from the dartboard on the wall to the empty pizza boxes on the counter.

“I should’ve cleaned up before I brought you here,” he said, walking up behind me. I stepped back until I was touching him.

“I like it just like this,” I replied.

Grant’s head dipped to my shoulder and he kissed my neck. “And why is that?” he asked.

“Because it’s you. It’s comfortable and real.”

Grant’s arms came around me and held me. “I don’t know if I want you thinking of me as comfortable. That sounds real close to boring.”

Grant was anything but boring. “Well, you’re not that.”

He moved a hand down to the bottom of my skirt and tugged it up. “I feel the need to prove just how exciting I can be,” he whispered in my ear.

I didn’t want what we were doing to be all about sex. I wanted something deeper than that. But then maybe that was what Grant wanted. I liked it . . . no, I loved it. He made me feel amazing, but was that all we would ever be? When this was over, would I have been just another girl he had sex with? Or would he remember me for other things?

“You tensed up. What’s wrong?” he asked.

Nan’s words replayed in my head. He would get bored with me. He would want something exciting. Was she the exciting one he wanted? Did I even want to be that? I wanted Grant. Who wouldn’t want Grant? That was a given.

I had always been boring. I was sick of being boring. I was sick of being forgettable. No. I wouldn’t bore Grant. When we ended it, it would be mutual, not because I’d been the boring prude that Nan accused me of being.

I reached for his hand and slipped it up higher as I spread my legs.

“Make me forget the image of you on that counter with Nan,” I told him boldly.

Grant looked pained, and he moved his hand from between my legs and cupped my face instead. “I’ve already forgotten it. I’m sorry she said that to you.”

He was taking care of me again. Treating me as if I would break. I shook my head. “No. I haven’t forgotten. I can’t get it out of my head. I don’t like thinking about you and Nan together. I’m jealous that she had you first. I want to be more . . . I don’t want to be forgettable.”

Grant scowled. “You could never be forgettable. You’ve claimed me in ways Nan never did. Nothing about you, Harlow . . . nothing is forgettable. Don’t ever think that.”

His words were always so sweet. His way with words was his greatest talent. “Then do this for me. I want to see a kitchen counter and remember us on it. Not you and Nan. That hurts too bad.”

A low growl came from Grant’s chest and he grabbed my panties and pulled them down, “I can’t stand the idea of you ever hurting because of me. I fucking hate that. I want to make you happy. I wish I’d never been with anyone before you.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “I’ll make you forget it but know that I forgot every other woman I’ve ever been with the moment I slid inside you the first time.”

Before I could react, he ran a finger along the edge of my heat. “Do you know why she told you about the counter?” he asked in a husky voice that always made me shiver.

Yes. To hurt me. But I didn’t say that. Instead, I shook my head.

“Because I had taken her and closed my eyes,” he breathed against my neck. “And when I came it wasn’t her name I yelled. It wasn’t her I was fucking.”

My breathing became heavy and I let my head fall back on his chest. His finger pushed up inside me. “It was your name I cried out. I was drunk, but even drunk it was you I was fantasizing about. Once I got a taste of you, nothing else worked for me. You were all I could think about.”

That wasn’t what I expected to hear, but it helped make that image in my head much more bearable. I let my panties shimmy down my legs and stepped out of them.

“I don’t want you fantasizing about me with her or anyone,” I said, turning to look at him as I pulled my shirt off.

Grant picked me up and sat me on the counter before he started unbuttoning his jeans. His eyes never left mine. I reached around and unsnapped my bra, then let it fall forward slowly. His eyes dropped to watch me and the heat in them made me smile. It eased the jealousy of him touching Nan.

He didn’t even step out of his jeans. He pulled me to him and started to sink in before he stopped. “Motherfucker, I almost did it again,” he swore.

He reached over to a drawer that was full of junk and pulled out a condom. I didn’t want to know why the heck he had a condom jammed in there, but then again this was Grant we were talking about.

“I don’t like condoms,” I said.

Grant took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I don’t either, but I need to get checked again, then we need to get you on birth control before we go without one.”

He was right and I was glad he was strong enough to think about it. Truthfully, I was so ready to feel him inside me I wouldn’t have remembered.

This time when he grabbed my hips he sank inside me and bit down on my shoulder with a loud groan. That was exciting. Really exciting. He licked where he had bitten me then looked into my eyes. “I don’t have to pretend. I’m right where I want to be,” he said and slid his hands up my sides and covered my breasts. “Damn, these are nice.”

I leaned back on my hands and lifted my knees up his sides. “Don’t be gentle with me. You want to fulfill a fantasy, then use me to do it,” I told him. I didn’t want him using someone else to take my place. I was burning that out of his mind right now.

Grant swore and his hands clamped onto my hips and he began slamming into me over and over, his eyes never leaving mine. I slid a leg up and draped it over his shoulder.

“Holy fuck!” he yelled and grabbed my leg. He was losing his control, and the wild look in his eyes made me want to push him further.

I lay back until I was lying on the countertop and put my other leg over his shoulders. He turned his face and bit my leg while holding my gaze. I cried out. This was better than I imagined. Having sex in the kitchen was a major turn-on.

“Come here,” Grant ordered, pulling my hips up so close that my legs were draped over his back completely now. “You drive me fucking insane. Your plump little lips and big, round nipples, and these long-as-hell legs. All I want to do is stay buried inside you. You got me, Harlow. You fucking got me, baby. I . . .” he paused and groaned as the tremors of my approaching orgasm squeezed him. “I can’t fight this. I don’t fucking want to,” he finished, then both his hands landed on each side of my head. “Come with me,” he whispered, and I broke apart into a million pieces. I screamed his name and bucked underneath him while he chanted things about how tight I was and how good I felt. Every word out of his mouth sent me crying out in pleasure again. He had magic words. That was the only way to explain it.

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