A.N. To begin, I should mention that this piece was never meant to be anything more than a quick fix for my romance story starved brain. I created it to be light and romantic, but I should caution that there is a fair bit of smut in it. Regardless, enjoy it and please let me know what you think.
It had been snowing throughout the night.
Now, in the soft shadows of pink and orange hues that cut across the sky as the sun slowly rose in the early morning hours, the pristine white sheet that covered the land glimmered, soft and ethereal. The snow continued to fall, gently now, soft and delicate, and occasionally, a strong wind would brush across the ground, gathering the white powder, swirling it within its invisible grasp. Jordan stood against her window, a slender hand grasped around a cup of hot tea, a soft smile on her face. It was so beautiful, the winter scene, but for the ice. The ice that would lie hidden by the inviting white blanket, deadly and dangerous, and for the first time, she wondered idly how she would get to her mother's on time for the lunch she had planned.
She sighed heavily, setting the cup down on a darkly stained wooden stand that stood next to the window, and crossed her arms beneath her chest, ignoring the tugging sensation she felt in her stomach. The Sunday lunches her mother insisted upon had fast become the one of the few things she looked forward to, a moment of peace in her otherwise chaotic lifestyle. When she had been in college, drowning herself in her studies, her mother had cautioned her, telling her she had taken on too much. But she had never relented. She had always been an academic, eager for more, anxious for new information. How beautiful it was to learn of ancient lands and dead cultures, of people who had lived and died, who had conquered and built. Alexander, the young Macedonian warrior, had always been her favorite, but every ancient civilization had taken over her heart, and the thirst for more knowledge had never been vanquished. She was an academic, a historian, proud and brilliant, and she had become the professor she had always dreamed of becoming shortly after earning her Masters degree. She welcomed the stress that accompanied the position from grading papers, the nights that seemed endless as she sat in front of her computer, typing up an essay that would later be published in some scientific journal or another. She was young, only 24, but she had accomplished more than others in her field. Her life was chaotic, constantly moving, and though she embraced it, she found herself wanting more.
And at her mother's Sunday lunches, she had found the peace that escaped her during the long week, finding comfort with her family.
But then, that had been before he had come back.
She supposed, in a way, she could always blame her older brother. He had, after all, been the one to befriend Grayson so many years ago. Grayson had been such a beautiful boy, was still beautiful in a refined way, but their relationship at first had been strained. Jace had never understood why his best friend and younger sister could not seem to get along, but then, he had been oblivious to the truth. She was his sister, the only reason Grayson had tolerated her, the three year age gap that separated them made significant by his obvious disdain for her, and Grayson had taken away the close friendship she had with her brother.
But then, she had been the one that Grayson had called every Thursday when he had been sent away to war. At first, she had thought it was a mistake; he couldn't talk to Jace, so he settled for second best, anything to connect him to home. But then he had called her a second time, a third, until she was pushing aside her work every Thursday in anticipation of the phone call that would come without fail. In many ways, it had been therapeutic. His philosophical ideas rivaled hers and for the first time, she had found someone who would argue with her and enjoy it as much as she did. Grayson had always been her brother's best friend, but suddenly he had become something more. He had become her friend as well and she found herself sharing parts of herself with him. She had always been quiet by nature, trusting only a few people in her life, but in Grayson she had found solace. He listened without judging her and shared his life in return. He brought out something within her, that part of her that had been dormant for so long. He made her laugh with his endearing jokes and endless wit, and for hours after the conversation had ended, she would find herself smiling softly, contentedly.
She could blame her brother for bringing Grayson into her life, but it had been she who had welcomed him home from war, hugging him close, surprising her on looking brother with her uncharacteristic behavior. It had been she who had helped him locate an apartment; oh you'll love it Grayson, it's perfect for one person and it's right down the hall from me, helping him move into it while he settled into his new job at the local hospital.
And it had been she who had fallen in love with him.
She sighed again, noticing the time on the grandfather clock in the corner of the living room and moved from the window. Quickly, she slipped on her sandals before leaving her apartment and walking down the hall. Her mother had always welcomed Grayson at her Sunday lunches and Jace had invited him days ago. Grayson had never been able to deny her mother or her cooking.
She stopped in front of his front door, her hand lifted, momentarily suspended as she paused in her movements. He had come back to his apartment early the previous evening, his shift at the hospital long and exhausting, and she knew he would still be asleep. Softly, she tapped on the door, the sound echoing in the vacant hallway. When he didn't answer, her hand drifted to the door handle and she twisted it. His door was unlocked, he always left it unlocked whenever he asked her to wake him up, and she walked to his bedroom, her movements graceful and quiet. His bedroom door was open, and she stepped through, stopping by his bed and kicking off her sandals. Gently, she sat herself on his bed, crossing her legs beneath her.
He lay on his back, the dark sheet tangled low on his naked hips, the beautifully sharp angles of his hips tantalizing against the black of the bed sheet. Short dark brown hair caressed his forehead, thick locks sweeping across it in disarray. His face was relaxed in sleep, his cheekbones elegantly arched, and the angles of his jaw line sharp. He had the face of a Roman god, and how many times had she wanted to run her fingers through the thick hair that he had let grow out since his return from that barren desert he had called home for two years? Stubble grazed the lower half of his face, and there were shadows beneath his closed eyes, evidence of his exhaustion, but he was still so beautiful. His arms were spread out at his sides, his hands large and calloused, the fingers long. Muscles shifted and relaxed as he moved in his sleep, and her breath caught as she watched him. His shoulders were broad, his chest inviting, and how desperately she wanted to lay her head on that hard plane of hot muscle, to feel those strong, sleek arms wrapped around her. His stomach was flat and there was a thin line of dark hair that traveled the length of his abdomen, disappearing beneath the sheet.
She sighed softly, her hands resting on her jean clad thighs. He looked so beautiful lying there, deep in exhausted sleep. Heat radiated off of his body, drenching her even though they were separated by mere inches. Inches away from his hot, satin flesh. Awareness flowed through her, awareness of herself, awareness of him. There was desire, an emotion she had come to associate with him, and she could feel it throbbing deep within her stomach. At first he had been her friend, and she had denied the attraction she held for him, the love that gripped her. He was so beautiful, and that had always intimidated her. So beautiful. What would he see in her? She loved him but she was a realist, knowing that he saw her as someone to trust and confide in. Never anything more. It hurt, but it was a pain that she kept silent.
But she had been unprepared against the smoldering heat of his gaze whenever he looked at her since his return from war, those brown eyes intense and dark. She was helpless against the casual touches where heat sparked and flamed, her skin burning from the brush of his fingertips. She was aware, always so aware, her body traitorous as it succumbed to the heat of his eyes and fingers again and again.
He wanted her.
The thought was always so explosive, so unbelievable.
But he never acted upon it.
"Grayson," she called softly, and he moved slightly, his lips moving as he murmured in his sleep. She called his name again, a little louder, and still he didn't wake.
She reached out, a slender palm flat against the muscles of his stomach and she shook him gently, ignoring the heat that flared and burned her hand. He was so warm, his skin so smooth, and she fidgeted slightly.
"Grayson, wake up sweetheart," she said, the endearment tumbling from her lips before she could stop it, and she shook him again, harder this time. She gasped when his large hand closed around her wrist and tugged. Unprepared, she lay stretched out on top of him, her soft chest pressing against the hot muscles of his torso. She glanced up, meeting eyes that were almost black with sleep. They were such a beautiful color, those eyes, a rich brown color that reminded her of smooth chocolate, but it was the heat that captivated her, the intense want radiating from them as he looked at her. He held her wrist captive as he raised his other hand, cupping her jaw, his thumb brushing across her lower lip. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her, and in the back of her mind, she knew she wouldn't stop him, couldn't stop him. She wanted it so badly. Her breathing slowed, unable to look away from those eyes, and she felt him tense beneath her. He wanted to kiss her, he was going to kiss her, and she felt her eyelids growing heavy.
His sudden grin surprised her, wholly masculine and too enticing for her fast beating heart to handle. She scowled at him, disappointment blatantly clear in her deep blue eyes, and looked away, absently trying to tug her wrist from his grasp. He tightened his hold, his other hand slipping into the thick dark brown waves of her hair that tumbled down her back in casual disarray.
"Morning to you too baby," he said, his deep voice laced with distinct amusement.
"Get your ass out of bed. It snowed last night and we'll have to leave early to make it to my mom's in time," she said as she moved to get off of his body. His hand slipped around her waist, holding her to him.
"Mmm," he growled and she shivered minutely. "I think I like this though. You're so warm and soft. We can just stay here all day instead."
She flushed as he snuggled closer to her, his movements pressing her body against his. She felt every hardened ridge shifting and relaxing against her and, below the thin sheet, a distinct hardening that made her gasp.
"Grayson," she said, her melodic voice low and threatening. "Out of bed. Now."
He sighed, allowing her slide off of him and he nearly groaned from the contact. She sat next to him, her legs drawn up against her chest, her arms around her knees, looking at him from the corner of her eyes. He turned on the lamp that rested on the nightstand and stood up, and she felt her jaw drop.
He was naked.
He scanned the floor around the bed, looking for his jeans, and her eyes roamed over his body hungrily. His back was broad and beautiful, his skin a gorgeous darker shade from his Italian ancestry. He found his jeans on a chair and he picked them up, and he turned to his side, pulling them up his long legs. He left the jeans ride low on his hips, unbuttoned and unzipped, and she could see the sharp angles of his narrow hips, the dark hair that trailed down his abdomen to disappear beneath those jeans. He was so beautiful, so masculine, and she fidgeted again. He noticed and turned towards her, one large hand on his abdomen directly above the zipper of his jeans.
"Were you staring at my dick?" he asked teasingly, a dark eyebrow raised in question.
Her blue eyes widened as she turned her head towards him.
"What? No! No of course I wasn't," she stammered, and he only smiled, predatory and dangerous.
'I think you were," he murmured, and she narrowed her eyes at him, turning her head. She heard his bare feet on the wooden floor as he walked to the bed, felt the mattress dip beneath his weight. Her breath caught as she felt him slide an arm around her waist, pulling her back against him. She felt his muscular thighs pressed intimately against hers as she settled between his legs, his hard chest flush against her back. There was heat, intense and comforting, and she could smell him, intoxicating and sensual. He brushed the curls away from her neck, and she closed her eyes momentarily as she felt the desire pound throughout her body in intense waves. He chuckled, low and deep, and then she felt him, his tongue on her neck, his lips settling the hot skin. She moaned softly as he sucked, her head titling to the side, and he took advantage, tugging lightly on her earlobe with his teeth, kissing his way down her jawline. His hands were fire on her body, smoothing down her stomach, her abdomen.
Months of heated glances, and now he was seducing her, but she couldn't question it, couldn't analyze it, not with his hands touching her so intimately, not with his mouth pressed against the skin of her neck.
She gasped when she felt him tugging on the clasp of her jeans.
"Grayson," she began, then gasped again as he lightly bit the flesh of her neck.
"Shh Jordan. Let me. I want to feel you, I've been wanting to feel you," he said as his fingers slipped beneath the thin underwear she wore. He pushed them down, jeans and cotton sliding down her long, slender legs, and she helped him, kicking them off when they reached her feet. She had wanted this, needed him to touch her, and her body was burning, aching for his touch. His fingers were hot as they grazed the soft flesh of her thighs, but still he didn't touch her where she needed to feel him most. One hand skimmed beneath her tee shirt, flush against the hot skin of her gently rounded stomach. He traced the lush flesh of her breast, his fingertip following the lace of her bra, before traveling up, up. He hooked his finger through a strap and tugged, exposing one breast to his wandering hand. She whimpered as he palmed her, his hand large and hot against her skin. Slowly, so slowly, his thumb brushed across a hard nipple and she moaned, her back arching.
"God you are so warm," he murmured into her ear, licking lightly at her ear lobe. He caught her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it, tugging at it. She moaned, and he kissed her neck again as he slid one long finger inside of her.
"Oh God!" she cried softly as his finger moved within her hot body, his other hand tormenting her hard nipple. Two fingers now, and she pressed back against him, her hips rising and falling as he entered and retreated, filling her with his long fingers, her movements tugging the front of his jeans lower until the hard length of him was exposed, the tip brushing across the low of her back.
"That's it baby," he murmured into her ear. "Let me feel you. You're so wet right now, you know that?"
She moaned softly, her hips moving, rising, falling, rising, falling.
He pressed her tightly against him, and she could feel him, so hard behind her.
"You feel that?" he asked her as he rolled her nipple between his fingers, and she did, hot and hard and long. It would be so easy, she knew, to lift herself up and settle herself over him, taking him deep into her aching body. He would fill her, and she would ride him, her back against his chest as she rocked with him. But he held her down, his fingers moving quickly within her body, his thumb brushing across the swollen protrusion that ached.
"That's it Jordan. Come for me and let me feel what it's going to be like when it's my dick inside you instead of my fingers," he growled. " You're so goddamn tight."
Her mouth fell open and she pushed her hips hard against his hand, forcing his fingers deeper. He groaned appreciatively, meeting every thrust of her hips. His skin was hot against hers, and dazed, she saw his large hands possessing her body, one at her breast, the other driving her closer to climax, and she felt beautiful beneath his hands, her body molten as his hands claimed her, as his lips marked her. He felt her shudder, her back arching hard as she came around his fingers, clenching and releasing. He coaxed her orgasm, pushing her higher and higher, and she was gasping and shaking and thrusting against him.
He grinned into her neck as she slumped against his chest, her breathing erratic and her skin hot.
"Oh God," she whispered, her eyes closed, her hand absently stroking his knee.
"One more time," he growled into her ear. Her eyes flew open as she turned her head to look at him.
"What?" she exclaimed then squealed softly as he rammed his fingers deeply into her. He saw her eyes widen, the blue of them dark and luxurious before she closed them, letting him please her again. It wasn't long before he felt her shuddering against him, and he loved the small screams and gasps that tore from her throat as he brought her to climax. He pressed her against him, and she could feel him, so close to that part of her that ached for him so badly, and she moaned as she felt her orgasm increase with intensity.
He pulled his fingers from her, slipping them into his mouth, one after the other, and she moaned weakly as she rested against him, a soft smile on her face. He tugged on her nipple one last time before pulling it from her shirt. He groaned softly, pressing a soft kiss onto her neck.
"What about you?" she asked, her voice soft. He grinned against her skin.
"Don't worry about me. But you better get dressed. Can't be late for the Sunday lunch," he said, his voice deep and smug, and she glared at him momentarily. He lifted himself from the bed, his arms slowly releasing her body as he lay her back against the sheets.
"I hate you Grayson," she murmured before pulling the sheet over her face. "Now get that fine ass of yours in the shower."
His deep laughter echoed throughout the apartment.
It had been three days since she had been in his arms, felt his fingers bring her pleasure. Three days of casual interaction, of heated glances when he saw her in the hallway, but nothing more. Once, he had even knocked on her door, leaning against the doorframe, looking so beautiful, so seductive, and she had felt her heart stop in her chest. Desire flared, and she wanted to pull him into her apartment, press her body against his. But he had only smiled at her, arrogant, though his eyes were so dark with want. She had licked her lips, an unconscious invite, and he had followed the movement closely, his body tensing, his eyes narrowed.
He wanted her.
But he asked to borrow a glass of milk instead.
Even her brother had noticed the sexual tension that simmered between them at the Sunday lunch, glancing back and forth from his best friend to his younger sister, his eyes widening when he saw the bite marks on her neck, before grinning knowingly. She had scowled at him, throwing a napkin at him. He had only laughed at her.
Grayson wanted her, but now he was playing a dangerous game. He had given her pleasure, but denied her more, waiting for her next move.
Her mind was set.
She was going to play his game.
Smiling softly, ignoring the heat that consumed her body, she waited for him to return from work. It was so late in the evening, but she had been waiting for hours, anxiety and excitement battling within her. She heard the front door of the building slam shut, heard the heavy footfalls as they traveled up the stairway and down the hall, and released a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.Soon…
She waited another fifteen minutes, sipping hot tea at her kitchen table. The cup was still half full when she stood, breathing deeply, grasping desperately at whatever control she had left. Quietly, she left her apartment, moving down to his, her nightgown twisting around the tops of her thighs. The straps were thin, green silk resting against the white of her shoulders, and the gown clung to her voluptuous body, skimming over full curves. She pushed the long, dark brown curls from her face, allowing them to tumble down her back before knocking softly at his door. She heard him move inside the apartment, soft footfalls, and the sharp sound of metal scraping against metal as he unlocked the door.
He was shirtless, trousers riding low on his hips, and barefoot. He blinked when he saw her, then grinned broadly as he leaned against the doorframe, his muscled arms crossing over his chest. His eyes were dark as they traveled the length of her body.
"Good evening Jordan," he said, his voice low and sensual. She stepped close to him, smiling softly. Gently, she pushed him inside the apartment and he let her, watching her as she shut the door behind her.
"Three days and you haven't made another move. You play a dirty game Grayson," she said as she moved forward, close, but not touching him. He played her game, allowing her to maneuver him across the wooden floor of his living room, gently pushing him towards the couch.
"Do I?" he asked, his voice soft and dangerous. Her heart spasmed within her chest, erratic as blood pumped furiously throughout her body, her desire deepening.
"I saw those looks you've been giving me whenever we see each other. One might think you were thinking some very naughty thoughts Grayson," she said as she looked at him, her eyes heavy and seductive and she saw him swallow.
"Might have been."
The backs of his knees connected with the couch.
"I bet," she whispered as she skimmed her fingers down his chest, watching his stomach muscles jerk from the gentle contact before tangling her fingers in that thin line of hair on his abdomen. "that you were wondering what it would be like to be inside me, weren't you?"
She flattened her hands against his chest, pushing him, and he fell back onto the couch. He relaxed his body, watching as she leaned over, pressing a scorching kiss on his collarbone.
"Jordan, what are you doing?" he growled, his hand lifting to tangle in her hair.
"Playing your game Grayson. And it's my move, I believe," she mumbled, kissing down his chest, his stomach, her tongue skimming across the smooth flesh. He groaned, low and soft and sexy, as her fingers tugged on his belt, unfastened his jeans. Slowly, she slipped her hand inside his trousers. She bit his stomach as her hand wrapped around him, grinning as he sucked a quick breath of air through his teeth. His jaw was taut, his eyes closed, as she rubbed him, dragging her palm along the long length of him, satin over steel. She released him, pulling down his trousers enough so that he sprung free of confinement, big, bigger than she had imagined, and beautiful.
She fell to her knees beside the couch, his thighs pressed intimately against her shoulders.
"You really do drive me crazy, you know that?" she asked, whisper soft. He moaned softly as her thumb traced the underside of him, brushing over scorching hot flesh.
"Do I?" he ground out, his voice husky and low.
"Do you want me Grayson?" Another brush of her thumb, this time swirling around the head of his manhood.
"Good answer," she murmured before taking him into her mouth. His eyes flew open, the warm brown of them almost black. Her tongue circled the head of him, once, twice, before he was enveloped in the warm cavern of her mouth. Her hand grasped him, stroking him as she licked him, as she sucked him. Slowly she moved, taking a little more of him deeper into her mouth. His large hand dove into her hair, pressing her head against him, holding her to him. His hips rose, small short thrusts so as to not overwhelm her. She moaned at his response, her enthusiasm growing as she sucked him harder, her tongue swirling and tasting him. He was so big inside her mouth, and it was so erotic. More erotic than she had ever dreamed, and the taste of him was so good. He thrust his hips, a little harder, feeling himself push a little deeper into her mouth, and she met him happily, loving the power she held over him. He was losing control and it was so beautiful watching him crumble beneath her mouth and hands. His muscles were taut, his eyes closed, and his chest rose and fell in rapid succession. He growled deep within his chest, the soft noise so sensual. He was close, so close, and she could feel him swell and harden even more. His fingers tightened around her head, and he thrust upwards, shuddering as he emptied himself into her mouth.
He collapsed against the couch and she released him, moving to straddle his waist. She leaned over him, kissing his neck, his jaw, and she gasped when his hand dove into her nightgown, freeing a breast and sucking the nipple deep into his mouth.
"Oh that's lovely," she gasped into his ear before trapping his earlobe between her lips. He growled softly, his hands moving over her waist, her hips, pulling on the material. He wrapped his fingers around her bare thighs, caressing, loving the feel of her.
"Grayson?" she murmured against his neck as she bit and sucked the taut flesh.
"Hmm?" he hummed, his mouth on her breast.
"Your move," she whispered and pulled away from him. Her breast slipped from his mouth, her thighs from his hands. Dazed, he stood up absently reaching down to pull his trousers back into place, watching the gentle sway of her hips as she walked away from him. She opened the door, stopped and looked over her shoulder. Her eyes met his, dark blue and so sexy. She smiled softly, smug and tempting, before stepping out into the hallway, shutting the door behind her.
He sighed heavily, collapsing onto the couch, his arms at his sides, staring at the blank screen of his TV. His body felt drained, but also euphoric, his heart racing as his mind slowly made sense of what had just happened.
He had never known she could behave so wantonly, and he was reminded of how much of an enigma she really was. She confused him, but that only made him want to make sense of her. Some part of him sensed that he never could. It would take a lifetime to discover all of her secrets. She was mysterious, private, and he found himself wanting to be close to her, observing, learning.
So intriguing. Like no woman he had ever known before.
It was no wonder he loved her.
He wanted her, and now she was playing his game.
He smiled into the silence.
Thursday had quickly become a day that Jordan associated with Grayson. When he had been overseas, it had been on Thursdays that he had called her. It had been on a Thursday that he had returned after two years, and on a Thursday that she had realized that she was in love with him. And it was on Thursdays that she left the university campus in the early afternoon, her classes over for the day and a plastic container nestled in the front seat of her car. As a bachelor, he had become use to easy meals, food that required minor heating, already pre-cooked, already seasoned, the Sundays when her mother would feed him his only chance for decent food. But now, on Wednesday nights, she pushed aside her work, spending hours in her kitchen preparing a meal for his lunch the next day. It had quickly become a ritual between them, and she experimented with different recipes, though he seemed to like her Italian creations the best, sometimes throwing a few cookies or a piece of pie into the container along with the meal she had prepared for him.
She pulled into the hospital parking lot, quickly locating a space for her car. In the afternoons, the hospital was surprisingly vacant. It was during the evening hours that the emergency room would fill with people needing various treatments. Grayson had learned this unusual routine early, using the more calm hours of the morning and afternoon to check on his bed-ridden patients. They were permanent residents at the hospital, each one diagnosed with a different technical term, one cancer, another leukemia, another some complicated medical term, all terminal.
She grabbed the plastic container and her purse, shivering lightly beneath her sweater as she hurried across the parking lot. A rush of heat welcomed her as the doors slide open automatically, and she stepped into the lobby eagerly. She smiled at the receptionist, a pretty woman in her late 40's.
"You look absolutely frigid Jordan," the receptionist stated without preamble and Jordan laughed.
"Hello to you too, Mrs. Ashe. Grayson around?" she asked, setting the container onto the counter.
"He's in with a patient now dear, but I imagine he'll be done shortly. What's on the menu today?" she asked, poking at the plastic container with her long fingernail.
"Fettuccini alfredo with shrimp. I've made it before. It's Grayson's favorite."
"I should say so," Grayson said, coming up behind Jordan without warning. She squealed softly in surprise and turned, her face connecting with his chest. She grumbled as he reached for the container.
"Warn a girl when you decide to come up behind her without making a sound, would you?" Jordan said, and Grayson laughed easily. He turned to the young woman behind him, a small boy clutched in her arms.
"Mrs. Ashe here will take care of you. I'll want to see him again in two weeks to check on him. Be careful in the snow and you," he said, looking at the little boy, "watch out for the ice eh? Try not to bump that head again."
The little boy giggled, his thumb making its way to his mouth.
"Shall we?" Grayson said, waving the plastic container in front of Jordan's face enticingly. "I'm hungry, woman."
Jordan rolled her eyes playfully as the young woman laughed.
"I'll see you later dear," Mrs. Ashe said, waving Jordan off. She smiled at the older woman, waving to the little boy and he waved back, giggling again, before following Grayson to the lounge. He was already in the room, the container on the counter next to the microwave. He groaned happily when he opened it, noticing the slice of chocolate fudge cake that she had added.
"Chocolate. God, I love you woman."
"You say that every time I bring you food," she pointed out as she sat herself down on a chair near the small table.
"And every time I mean it," he said as he put the cake on a paper plate, shoving the pasta into the microwave and turning it on. He glanced around, and she sighed, bemused.
"Need a fork?" she asked him, pulling the plastic utensil from her purse. He smiled at her, looking entirely too handsome, and moved to sit in the chair next to her, the paper plate in his right hand.
"You're a goddess," he said as he took the fork, scooping up some of the cake before shoving it into his mouth.
"Oh God," he moaned in delight and she smiled.
"You know, I could really get use to all these compliments."
"Never told you this but my colleagues are jealous."
"Because I bring you food?"
"Absolutely. It pisses them off."
"And you do nothing to try and calm them down, I'm guessing."
"Hell no. I even throw in little moans just to let them know how good my food is. Their faces when they look down at their microwave dinners, God, priceless."
"You're hopeless," she said, laughing softly. "One day I'll bring you a burger from a fast food place. See how arrogant you are then."
"Still a burger from a gorgeous woman. The jealousy factor will remain," he said, finishing his cake.
She shook her head, walking over to the microwave when it beeped and removing the pasta.
"Here," she said, placing the hot container in front of him. Eagerly, he stirred it, twisting a few of the thick noodles around his fork before eating it. She sat back down, smirking as he moaned theatrically.
"Before you leave today, do you want to stop in and see Carol?" he asked before his mouth closed around the fork once more.
Carol had been Grayson's first patient, a vivacious woman in her early 50's. It hadn't been long before she was diagnosed, taking the news of her impending death surprisingly well. She had moved into the hospital shortly afterwards to receive the constant care required due to her illness, and Jordan had met her only a few days later. She was a woman with a temper, outrageous and brash. She flirted with the male nurses and had even playfully made a pass on Grayson a number of times, something that had become a source of endless amusement for Jordan. She had been a professor before falling ill, and Jordan found her incredibly intelligent. Though she was sick, Carol proved to be quick witted, eager for a debate, and Jordan had made it a point to visit the woman at least once a week.
"Have I ever said no?" Jordan asked him as he finished his pasta. He shrugged before standing, taking her hand and pulling her from the lounge. They took the elevator to the fifth floor, walking down the twisted corridors of the hospital before stopping in front of a wooden door.
"Go ahead. I have to go and check on some of my patients," he said, releasing her hand, and she shivered minutely from the loss of heat. He walked down the corridor as she turned and knocked on the door softly.
"Whoever you are, stop knocking and get your ass in here. You're ruining my show!"
Jordan laughed as she pushed open the door.
"Jordan! Well why the hell didn't you say it was you?" Carol asked, picking up the remote from the bed sheets and turning down the volume on the TV that hung above the foot of her bed.
"Julius confessing his love for Matilda?" Jordan asked, motioning to the soap opera on the TV. Carol nodded.
"But Matilda is pregnant by Steve, who is, in fact, Julius' brother. Oh the drama!"
"Why you watch this junk is beyond me. It's never ending you know. Hardly satisfying."
"It's entertaining. I don't know if you know this, but it's fucking boring around here. It's either put the moves on one of the hot male nurses or soap operas. Funnily enough, none of the nurses ever return my advances."
"There's always the doctors," Jordan pointed out as she sat in the chair next to the bed.
"Educated, most of them handsome. There's something to be said for men of the medical profession," Carol nodded sagely. "And you seem to have the best looking one after you."
"I always thought you were intelligent, girl. Don't make me think otherwise."
"There's a girl. I'm sick, not blind. Don't think I don't see those hot little glances between the two of you. Makes Matilda's affair with Steve look tame."
"So those male nurses?" Jordan prompted, and Carol laughed at her obvious attempt to change the subject.
"Screw the male nurses. Let's talk about the doctors. I'd love to get my hand on one of them with their hard bodies and tight butts."
"The clipboards do you in, yeah?"
"I think it's their methodical ways. Makes a woman want to ruffle them up."
"I don't know how you can be bored Carol. You're always so entertaining."
"It's the sickness. I'm going mad you know. Losing it all upstairs. Personally I can't wait. Maybe then I won't get weird looks whenever I hit on one of the nurses."
"I doubt you've ever cared about 'weird looks'," she said, relaxing against the back of the chair.
"True enough. Now, back to Doctor Sexy. Hot gazes. Steamy looks. Air sizzling from sexual tension."
"Oh Jesus," Jordan moaned, resting her forehead against her palm.
"Ahh, it's true then. So tell me," Carol said, pushing her body across the bed so that she was closer to Jordan. "how is the man in bed?"
"You haven't slept with him yet?" Carol exclaimed, horrified at the thought.
Carol sputtered, her thin arms flailing in the air.
"Well why the hell not?"
"Are we really going to get into this?"
"Absolutely. You're disgracing yourself girl. The boy wants you. Badly. And you still haven't slept with him. Don't tell me it's because you don't think you're good enough."
Jordan was silent. Carol glared at her.
"Have you seen the man?" Jordan exclaimed, trying to defend herself. "He's gorgeous."
"Jordan, I'm warning you..."
Jordan sighed, defeated.
"We're getting there, thanks to this game we have going on."
"Finally! The real reason. Sex games, eh? Always fun. Now tell Auntie Carol all about them."
"You're hardly my aunt."
"Semantics, girl. Now details!"
"I woke him up the other day so we could make it to my mother's Sunday lunch on time. Things, er, happened. Yesterday, I reciprocated. His move now."
"You need to work on your details," Carol said pointedly, not bothering to hide her disappointment.
"Don't you get enough from Matilda and Steve?"
"This is absolutely better. Really, I can't stop my heart from racing, it's that exciting."
Jordan laughed, shaking her head.
"So the things that he did do to you," Carol said slyly. "Was he good?"
"Amazing," Jordan sighed.
"I knew it!"
"Talking about someone I know?" Grayson asked as he stepped into the room, a smile on his face.
"You!" Carol said, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You're a disappointment to me, boy."
"What did I do now?" he asked, genuinely interested.
"It's what you didn't do, you silly boy."
"Carol," Jordan growling warningly. The older woman waved her hand dismissively.
"No need to be shy, girl. We're all adults here. Please tell me why in the hell you haven't gotten in this girls pants yet."
"Oh Jesus," Jordan whispered, mortified. Carol crossed her arms in front of her chest, glaring at Grayson. Grayson only laughed.
"I will. Only a matter of time," he declared arrogantly. Carol scoffed. Jordan glared at him.
"Oh will you now?"
"Shall I remind you what happened last night?" he asked, a sly smile forming on his face.
"Oh please do!" Carol begged and Jordan moaned softly into her hands. "Sweet girl she is, love her to death, but her details are horrible. Fill in a poor, lonely, going mad woman would you?"
"You're about as insane as I am Carol, " Jordan said, standing up.
'Which must be a lot since you haven't even slept with Doctor Sexy-Ass here!" Carol interrupted, her arms flailing again.
"But I must be getting home. I have work to do," Jordan continued as though she hadn't heard her. She walked to the door, standing next to Grayson.
"But you didn't even tell me anything! No details! Jordan this is an outrage!"
"Movie night tomorrow, yeah?" she asked Grayson, stretching up to kiss him on the cheek. He nodded, smiling softly at her.
"Bye Carol," she said, and then she left, leaving Grayson to deal with the sputtering older woman.
Friday nights were a time for long baths, and that had been something that Jordan had adhered to since her late teenage years. She had returned from work, cleaning up her apartment before starting her bath. The hot water quickly steamed the bathroom, welcoming and tempting. She poured in a scoop of her vanilla scented bath beads, loving the silky texture of the water from the oils. Quickly, she pinned the heavy mass of dark brown strands on top of her head before stepping into the tub. The steam penetrated her tired muscles, the gushing sounds of running water so therapeutic, and the hot water felt so glorious around her. Grayson wasn't due to be at her apartment for another hour or so, a series of movies resting on her coffee table. They were movies they had seen hundreds of times, movies they could quote, knowing the next scene, but their Friday movie nights had become a ritual, a satisfying end to a stressful workweek.
She sighed softly, stretching her body, turning the water off with her foot, the water rippling over sensitive skin. Her fingertips skimmed her exposed knee, absently tracing small circles, and she noted the calluses that marred the tips. They weren't the hands of a gentle woman, but the hands of a woman who was use to hard work. They were slender, but rough in texture. How disappointing. She was disappointing. At least in her mind.
So many internal doubts.
It seemed strange that Grayson should want her. She wasn't as beautiful as many other females, her body curvy instead of slender like so many men liked. Her breasts and hips were full, her stomach gently rounded. She was soft, a contradiction to her personality. She had seen countless women, beautiful women, throwing themselves at Grayson before.
Yet he wanted her.
The bathroom door opened, and she gasped softly.
'Grayson! You're early," she said, her arms crossing in front of her chest in a futile attempt at modesty. He didn't answer her, merely entered the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Her eyes widened when he began to unbutton his shirt.
"Grayson, what on earth are you doing?" she asked as he slipped the shirt from his body, his hands pulling at his belt.
"Joining you," he said simply, his voice low as he pushed his trousers to the floor. He kicked them off with his shoes and socks, standing before her gloriously naked.
'Move up a bit, would you?" he asked, and helplessly she did as he asked. He stepped into the tub, his long body stretching out, his thighs pressing against her own. She gasped when she felt his large hands on her hips, pulling her back to him. His skin felt hot against her own, and she shuddered as his hands slid across her stomach, embracing her. With her back pressed tightly against his chest and his large, muscled arms circled around her, he buried his face in her neck, not moving, just breathing.
"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" she asked him softly, her arms coming down to rest on his.
"Just let me hold you for awhile Jordan. Please," he mumbled into her neck. She nodded, her fingertips tracing little patterns on his arm.
He sighed heavily, his hot breath skimming over her sensitive flesh.
"I lost a patient today Jordan," he said softly, his thumbs smoothing over the soft skin of her stomach. Alarmed, she turned her head to face him. He only shook his head, knowing what she was thinking.
"Not Carol. This one you never knew. But I had high hopes for her. She seemed to be responding to the treatments really well. And then today she just…" he trailed off.
She turned in his arms, her legs wrapping around his narrow hips, hugging him to her. He was such a powerful man, so dominant and strong, and she could never deny how attractive that was. She loved him for his easy nature, his boyish smile, his strength, his power. But when he was vulnerable, more human than Roman god, trusting her, looking to her for comfort, it was those times when she loved him the most.
His arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly, and she offered him the only comfort she could. She traced a hand over his spine, her fingertips gentle against the taut skin, her head on his collarbone, her face pressed against his neck. She let him hold her, let him press her tightly against his body, feeling his hands smoothing over her warm flesh as though he couldn't get enough. She was so hot, so alive, and he found strength in that. And when she picked up her head to look at him, slender fingers running through his hair in a comforting, soothing motion, her forehead resting against his, his restraint shattered.
He closed the short distance between them, his mouth meeting hers, cataclysmic, desire pulsing through his veins like liquid flames. Her lips were soft beneath his and he moved over them hungrily, learning her, tasting her. Her lips parted and she realized that this was the first time he had ever kissed her. He was demanding and conquering, his tongue rubbing against hers erotically and she moaned into his mouth. His arms tightened around her, one hand sinking into the curls piled messily on top of her head, holding her to him. His body was so hard against hers, a complete contrast that was almost mind blowing. She felt his hand slide possessively down her side, cupping her hip, slipping into the water to grasp at her thigh. He tugged her closer to him, and she felt him, hot and hard and thick. His kiss was hard and urgent and she loved how languid he made her feel, melting into him. He broke away from her, his large hands caressing her back, her thighs, resting his forehead against her own, his breathing harsh and heavy.
Fuck the game.
"I can't do this anymore Jordan," he murmured, pressing a quick kiss on the corner of her mouth.
"Grayson," she began but he silenced her, kissing her quickly.
"Listen to me. I'm not playing anymore. I want you so badly I ache from it. But you need to understand that if you let me finish this, I'm not letting you go. You'll be mine. You just say the word and I'll carry you to that big bed of yours and I'll make love with you, but you need to make sure you can handle the consequences. I take you, I keep you. You got that?"
Silently, she nodded and he kissed her again, hard and hot, allowing her to feel the desire that swelled within him, before pushing her away. He stood up, wrapping a towel around his hips and stepped out of the bath, water dripping down his legs and chest. She watched him leave the bathroom without waiting for an answer, her mouth opening and closing, unable to speak. Scowling, she grabbed a towel and, standing, wrapped it around herself. She left the bathroom, searching for him. She found him in her bedroom, leaning against a closed window. The sun had fallen long ago, the street lamps smothering the white snow in pale orange shadows. His hard body tensed, sensing her presence, but he didn't turn.
"You know, you're so brilliant Grayson. And it never fails to amaze me that even brilliant people such as yourself can have such stupid moments."
He turned then, those gorgeous dark brown eyes searching her own.
"I've been yours for a long time Grayson," she said, her voice soft in the silence. "If you thought for a second that I was going to turn away from you, I really will call you an idiot, I swear I will Grayson. And I'll mean it too."
He chuckled, running long fingers through dark brown strands of hair in an endearingly boyish manner.
"God, you're amazing. Do you know that?" he asked, his eyes like molten chocolate as he looked at her. So sensual. She smiled softly at him.
"You have me. I have to confess that I want something from you as well," she whispered, standing close to him.
"Name it," he murmured, his hands resting on her towel covered hips, his head lowered, his cheek against hers.
No more games.
"I want this," she said, placing her palm flat against his heart.
"That's always been yours," he growled, soft and low. " I dreamt about you when I was overseas you know. I couldn't wait for Thursdays, just so I could talk to you again. God and when I came home and you hugged me…"
She kissed his jaw, tracing the sharp angle of it with her lips and tongue. Her fingers grasped his biceps, gently squeezing, as she pressed her body tightly against his.
"I want you," he growled softly into her ear and she shivered against him. She kissed his collarbone, her mouth hot and wet against warm, male skin. Long fingers slid through dark brown curls, cupping her neck. She smiled softly as his mouth closed on hers, hard and brutal. She felt his tongue, dipping and retreating, tasting, and she moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck. He supported her easily, pressing her tightly against him, his fingers tugging at the towel that covered her frame. Slowly, under the constant pressure of his fingers, he felt the towel loosen until it fell at her feet, forgotten and useless. Her breasts crushed against his chest, the ample flesh so soft against the hard contours of his body. Her hips filled his hands, her waist a sensual curve, and he loved it, loved the feel of her, the warmth that radiated off of her in pulsing waves, penetrating him. He felt her fingers trail across his chest, smoothing along the hard planes of firm muscle. He was so beautiful, so hot against her, possessing her so entirely, so completely.
He pulled away, his eyes meeting hers, smoldering, molten, and she couldn't look away. He moved forwards, backing her towards the bed, trailing one long finger down her collarbone, between her breasts, skimming the smooth skin of her stomach before pushing her gently. She tumbled onto the bed, smiling up at him invitingly, allowing him to look at her. Always, when she had looked into a mirror, she had hated the reflection that stared back at her. So many imperfections, so many flaws. But she felt beautiful under his gaze, his eyes roving over every curve, every line that made up her body, and for the first time, she felt perfect, was perfect, was beautiful, and she loved him all the more for it. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, her legs dangling over the edge of the bed, reaching for his large hands. He allowed her to pull him closer; his eyes closing when she pressed a hot, openmouthed kiss on his flat stomach, her nimble fingers slipping beneath the waistband of the towel, tugging gently. It fell to the floor and she pulled away, smoothing the tips of her fingers down the sharp angles of his hipbones, brushing the trail of hair that coursed down his abdomen, further still, wrapping around the satin-steel length of him. He growled softly, and she kissed his stomach again. His hands caught in her hair, pulling out the pins, loving how the thick brown curls spilled over his hands and her back. So enchanting.
He tugged gently, pulling her face away from his stomach. She released him, pushing herself further onto the bed. He followed her, lowering his body, their legs entwining, his hips pressing tightly into hers. Flames ignited, and she loved how he felt on top of her, welcoming his weight pressing her down into the bed. Her legs brushed against his, grazing his thighs, pressing against his hips. He kissed her again, his hand trailing over her collarbone, his fingers skimming the underside of her breasts. He cupped one, smiling at the sight of the ample flesh spilling over his hand, and she moaned into his mouth, her hips shifting beneath him. He kissed her neck, knowing how hot it made her, and he felt her nails scrapping gently across his back, a pleasure-pain that made him groan. His hot mouth traced a line down her body, licking and sucking and nipping her soft skin, before closing around a hard nipple. Her back arched, her fingers burying themselves in his hair as he sucked at her, his tongue rubbing against her. He shifted, kissing a path to her other breast, sucking it violently into his mouth. His arm slid beneath her arched back, lifting her, and he took advantage of the new position, his free hand palming one breast, her nipple hard between his forefinger and thumb, his hot, wet mouth wrapped around the other, slowly driving her mad. He could smell the vanilla on her skin from her bath, rich and sultry, and he wanted to taste her, taste all of her. She felt so good beneath his hands, his mouth, and he wanted her, wanted all of her, wanted to watch her as pleasure tore through her body, her blue eyes deepening to a sapphire shade that was breathtaking, wanted to feel her wrapped around him as he held her close. He wanted to lose himself within her until the only thing that existed in the world was her beneath him, him deep within her, thrusting, connecting.
Gently, he pulled his arm from behind her and she nestled into the bed, her hands rubbing his shoulders, pushing through his hair. His hands gripped either side of her, smoothing down the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips. He kissed her stomach, his tongue scorching against her soft flesh, and he loved the taste of her, loved the little moans that escaped from her. And when he brushed his mouth against her, that part of her that craved him so badly, his tongue pushing deep within wet folds, tasting her, her back arched; his name tumbling from her parted lips in a small scream. He loved the little noises she made as he pleasured her, his wide shoulders holding her open to him, his hands running across her stomach, her thighs. She was wet, so wet, and his desire for her swelled and pulsed. He licked at her, sucked at her, so erotic, so beautiful.
Slowly, he pulled away, positioning himself so that he was over her, his hips pressed tightly against hers, bearing his weight on his forearms. One of her arms slid around his waist, the other hand caressing the sharp angle of his jaw as she kissed him. Her hips were moving and she wanted him inside of her, wanted to feel that connection of man and woman. His hands wrapped around her thighs, positioning her legs so they wrapped around his waist, and he slid into her fiercely, sharply. She was tight and hot and she gripped him as he entered her, squeezing him. He was so hard inside of her and thick, and she could feel every ridge, every inch of his powerful length, thrusting into her. He kissed her again, his tongue slipping into her mouth, as his hips moved, pulling himself from her, thrusting deep. He tried to keep the pace slow, allowing her body to get use to the feel of him. She moaned into his mouth, breathless and carnal, and his control shattered.
His hips met hers in a wild frenzy as he slammed into her, trying to push himself in as deep as he could. He gripped the edge of the mattress with one hand, the other wrapping around her thigh as he moved. The bed slammed against the wall, but he didn't care. There was only her beneath him, her surrounding him, her pushing against him, forcing him deeper. He felt every muscle within her tightening and releasing, squeezing him so deliciously, and God he loved it. She was shaking beneath him, her back arching so erotically, her fingers tight around the muscles of his upper arms. Her breasts pressed against his chest, soft flesh against hard muscle, and he could feel the hard nipples skimming his hot skin as their bodies came together, so sensual, so erotic. Her body tightened, a small scream tumbling from her lips as she came around him, and he pushed deeper, pushed harder, faster. His hips grinded into hers and she screamed again, shaking and quivering, and he could feel how hot she was, her body urging him to come within her. He was so hard he ached, but he wanted to be deeper, wanted her to come harder. She was panting, her eyes a sensually dark shade that reminded him of sapphires, and still he couldn't stop slamming into her, his thrusts lifting her hips off of the bed.
But it wasn't enough.
"Come for me one more time," he growled into her ear as he picked her up, her legs wrapped tightly around him, and he slammed her against the wall next to the bed. She squealed as the new position allowed him to penetrate her deeper, touching areas he hadn't before. He wasn't gentle and she didn't want him to be. He was so beautiful, his muscles shifting, taut beneath the golden hue of his skin, and he was so hot to the touch, and she held him close to her, needing to feel him wrapped around her. He conquered her body, taking and demanding more, always more. Purely masculine. All predatory male, and God how she loved it, loved how dominant he was, how forceful, how demanding, loved the soft growls that escaped from him as he moved against her. Something had shattered within her the moment he had first touched her, and for the first time in her life, she felt liberated, beautiful in his eyes, and she didn't stop the screams and moans that were an endless litany on her lips. The sounds excited him, and he moved faster, harder, and he was close, so close, but he wanted to feel her squeezing him again as she came.
"I love hearing you scream," he breathed into her ear, growling softly as she tightened her muscles around him. "God you're so tight and wet. Scream for me baby. Let me know you love how I'm fucking you. "
She felt the cold wall on her back, his thrusts pushing her higher, could feel his mouth hot against her neck, sucking and biting and then she was coming, her body tightening so beautifully, gasping as the orgasm tore through her, one hand pressed against the smoldering flesh of his back, the other tangling in the strands of his hair, holding his head to her. She screamed again and he couldn't hold back, and he pushed himself deep into her, his body taut as he came inside of her. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she tried to slow her breathing, her heart pounding so erratically within her chest, and he held her to him, his body drained, his hands trembling.
He lowered her to the bed, coming down to lie on top of her, their hips pressed tightly together. He kissed her, slow and sensual, and she was languid against him, her body soft beneath his and so hot. Long fingers tangled in the long dark brown curls that framed her face, and she moaned softly against his mouth. The weight of his body trapped her against the sheets and it felt so good, his large body surrounding hers, protecting, so sensual.
"Tell me you love me," he whispered against her mouth. She pulled her lips away from his, her fingertips tracing his jaw, the sharp angles of his face.
"I love you Grayson," she said softly, smiling gently as his eyes darkened. They were like hot, molten chocolate, those eyes, smoldering as he looked at her. He kissed her again, hard and hot, and he could feel himself stirring within her again. She gasped in surprise and he grinned at her, wholly masculine, predatory. She felt him move, slow and gentle, his length swelling and thickening within her.
His hips rotated against hers, his thrusts lazy as he kissed her, his hand traveling her body, caressing and stroking. Her skin grew warm as he brought her to sensual awareness once again, lovingly touching her, slowly filling her. He was deep inside of her and she could feel every glide of that long length as it entered and retreated, every pulse as his desire swelled. He was throbbing within her, but still he moved slowly against her.
"Tell me you're mine," he growled softly into her ear.
"I've always been yours," she whispered, her back arching beneath him.
"Tell me that you'll always be mine."
"Tell me that you love me Jordan."
Another soft growl.
"I love you. God, I love you."
She tightened against him, her orgasm building slowly until it crested, and she was coming around him, all hot and wet and tight. He gasped at the feel of it, and she could feel him, coming into her, filling her with fire and flames. His eyes met hers, dark and intense, and then he was kissing her again, his body collapsing onto hers.
"I love you Jordan," he murmured, pressing light kisses on the corner of her mouth. Gently, he withdrew from her body and he fumbled for the quilt that covered the bed, drawing it over their bodies as he reached out and pulled her into him, her back against his chest, his arm wrapped tightly around her. Her fingertips traced tiny patterns on his forearms as he nuzzled her neck, kissing the warm flesh tenderly. She snuggled against him, sighing contentedly as exhaustion claimed her body. She fell asleep in his arms with a small smile on her face, and his arm tightened around her in response, keeping her close to him, and then he was joining her in sleep, his arm around her, his body surrounding hers, protective and comforting.
He was exactly where he had always wanted to be.