Betting on Grace (5 page)

Great. Now he was a fucking secretary. Another forkful
of food went into his mouth as he nodded his head at Cody. There wasn’t a
chance in hell that he was going to mention Cody to Mercy, but the kid didn’t
need to know that.

“Night,” Cody finally said as he pushed to his feet.

Lane wasn’t trying to be an ass; he just wasn’t in a
talkative mood, so he sent Cody off with a curt nod.

In fact, he had something else entirely on his mind as
he polished off what was left of the Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes that
had been overflowing his plate moments earlier.

Shoveling the last bite in his mouth, he decided it
was high time he addressed the issue.

Grant didn’t want to do anything except sit in front
of the television. Hell, he didn’t even want to get up and get another beer.
Glancing down at the one in his hand, he realized that would be something he’d
really need to come to terms with in, oh, say, less than three minutes.

Looking at the three empty bottles sitting on the
table beside his recliner, he wasn’t sure how good of an idea that really was.
Especially since he had to work in the morning. But shit, he deserved it, and
up to this point, he was still trying to achieve that ever-elusive buzz that
was just out of reach.

After he had escaped his father’s tirade that morning,
he’d had to endure endless phone calls and texts from the man throughout the
day. Grant never answered the phone and finally tossed the damn thing in his
truck just to avoid it, but then he’d been met with forty-two texts and
seventeen voice messages. They all said about the same thing, letting him know
what a worthless piece of shit he was for turning his back on his father in his
time of need. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

Nothing Grant hadn’t heard before on numerous
occasions.

It still irritated the fuck out of him to hear it.
Irritation was all he would cop to, though, which was why he’d resorted to
drinking from the second he’d stepped through his front door. He damn sure
wasn’t going to admit that the words actually hurt him.

Downing what was left of his beer, Grant tried to
focus on the television.
See that, Dad, I’ve still got a television!

Oh, for crying out loud.

For the better part of the last half hour, he’d been
alternating between clicking the remote and replaying in his mind all of the
hateful bullshit his father had left on his voice mail. As much as he had
tried, clicking through channels, searching for something to watch wasn’t
enough to drown out the angry voice of his father still reverberating in his
head.

Considering he didn’t give a shit about watching
television in the first place, it was no wonder he hadn’t found anything that
caught his attention. His thoughts were all over the map, so focusing on the
screen was hard enough.

A sudden knock on the front door jolted Grant from his
thoughts, but he didn’t bother to get up.

“It’s open!” he hollered, willing whomever it was to
go away.

Not happening, apparently.

The door pushed inward, and in walked Lane in all of
his handsome glory. Even after twelve hours of work, Lane looked good enough to
eat. He was covered in a fine layer of dust, his straw hat crushed on one side,
one of his pant legs tucked into his boot, the other covering his other boot.
He looked like he’d tussled with the livestock for the better part of the day.

Yet he still looked so damn good.

“Hidin’ out, are ya?” Lane asked, a hint of
exasperation in his tone as he shut the front door behind him, effectively
sealing them off from the rest of the world.

Grant knew he shouldn’t be quite so happy about that,
bearing in mind his current mood. No one had to tell him that he was acting
like a hothead and had been for most of the day.

“Tryin’,” Grant answered, meeting Lane’s gaze. “What
do you want?”

“You, but that’s beside the point,” Lane responded
smoothly, his original weariness absent from his tone.

Why did that make him feel so damn good?

Grant tried to brush off the response, keeping in mind
Lane’s good-ol’-boy answer to everything. If he let him, Lane would strip Grant
of all his frustration within seconds, and that would leave him … tired.

But he could think of something else Lane could strip
off him.

That might make him feel a little better.

Speaking of stripping… Holy mother of God.

“
What
are you doing?” Grant asked as he sat fascinated
by the sight of Lane standing in front of him, tossing his tattered hat on the
table that currently held the empty beer bottles and then pulling his T-shirt
over his head.

Oh, fuck.

Grant was spellbound from the first sight of the dark
hair that disappeared into the waistband of Lane’s jeans. He then let his eyes
graze upward, following the dark blue cotton as it skimmed higher, admiring the
sexy definition of Lane’s abs, the smattering of dark hair that covered Lane’s
chest, the corded muscles of Lane’s neck… And then the shirt was gone
completely, and their eyes collided.

“Need a shower,” Lane said easily, his attention on
Grant.

Breaking the eye contact, Grant once again slid his
gaze down the front of Lane.

“You know where it’s at,” Grant replied, yanking his
eyes off the chiseled abs and hard planes of Lane’s incredible physique.

“Sorry, I forgot where it was. Care to show me?”

Grant frowned at Lane. He was not going to play this
game.

Right. Tell your dick that, too.

Grant ignored that little voice in his head at the
same time he ignored his dick’s reaction to the sexy cowboy now toeing off his
boots in the middle of Grant’s living room.

“Lane,” Grant began, ready to offer the big man a
warning.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” Lane shot back as
he reached for Grant’s hand and damn near launched him to his feet with one
well-timed tug.

“Fucking hell,” Grant grumbled when he found himself
vertical, standing directly in front of Lane. “I don’t have time for this
shit.”

Lane was unbuttoning his own jeans while Grant
watched. He knew he should’ve stood his ground and pushed Lane away, but he
just couldn’t do it. This was exactly what he needed to take his mind off the
shitty day he’d had.

“Show me the shower, Grant,” Lane demanded, his rich
brown eyes boring into Grant.

“Sonuvabitch,” Grant complained half-heartedly, taking
a single step forward but not getting anywhere.

The next thing he knew, Lane had wrapped his arms
around him and pulled him close, their mouths meeting with a vigorous hunger
that no amount of anger could dispel.

“Damn, you taste good,” Lane mumbled against his lips.
“My favorite combination … Grant and beer.”

Grant didn’t get a word in edgewise because Lane fused
their mouths together once again and proceeded to back Grant toward the
bathroom. The next thing he knew, they were both naked, standing beneath the
lukewarm spray in his small shower.

“You know what I need?” Lane asked, his lips trailing
down Grant’s neck, effectively eliminating all thought from Grant’s mind.

Grant had to hold back a yelp when Lane ventured
farther and then nipped his collarbone.

“I asked you a question,” Lane declared firmly.

“What?” Grant asked, sliding his arms around Lane and
gripping his ass, pulling Lane against him as their cocks rubbed together.
Fucking shit, that felt good.

“Are you asking me to repeat the question? Or asking
me what I need?” Lane asked.

Grant laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Does it matter?”

“Maybe.”

“What do you need?” Grant tried to keep his tone
serious but failed thanks to the triple shot of desire that had been injected
into his bloodstream. The only thing he could think about at that point was the
sexy, naked cowboy in his arms.

Lane’s lips and tongue traveled back up Grant’s neck,
making their way to his ear. Lane nipped his earlobe at the same time he said,
“I need to feel your mouth on my cock.”

Grant groaned. “Yeah?” he asked breathlessly as Lane
wrapped his big, callused hand around Grant’s dick.

Ahh, hell. Grant was pretty sure those were stars he
saw behind his closed eyelids.

“Yeah. I want you on your knees with my dick in your
mouth. I want to watch,” Lane continued, nipping Grant’s earlobe again, “my
dick fucking your face.”

At the moment, Grant wanted the same damn thing.

As though Lane just realized that Grant needed a
little coaxing, Lane took a step back, placing one hand on Grant’s shoulder and
encouraging him to go to his knees. Which he did. Much to his cock’s dismay,
though, because as he lowered himself to the porcelain floor beneath them, Lane
released the firm grip he’d had on Grant’s dick, leaving him aching for his
touch once again.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Lane moaned as he slipped his fingers
into Grant’s wet hair, pulling roughly, enough that Grant felt the tingle down
his spine.

As the water sluiced over Lane’s ripped body, Grant
allowed the porcelain to bite into his knees as he positioned himself in front
of Lane. He kept his gaze trained on Lane’s chiseled face, their eyes locking
together while Lane guided his cock into Grant’s mouth.

“Damn, that looks nice,” Lane growled softly. “I love
watching my dick slide past your lips.”

Grant groaned around Lane’s cock, swiping his tongue
over and around Lane’s thick shaft, teasing the underside briefly, enjoying the
fuck out of Lane’s heated response and the salty taste of Lane’s skin.

“Aww, hell, Grant,” Lane muttered, his eyes rolling
back in his head.

Grant cupped Lane’s balls with his hand, kneading
firmly as Lane rocked into him. When Lane’s eyes were once again on him, he
used his teeth to gently scrape along the length of him.

“I dream about this,” Lane admitted, his voice little
more than a throaty whisper. “I dream about fucking your mouth, watching you
take me all the way.”

Grant’s eyes widened briefly, but he expanded his
mouth, taking Lane deeper. Lane was a big man in every sense of the word. He
was well beyond a mouthful, but Grant gave it his all. He loved watching the
pure ecstasy on Lane’s face. It got him every time.

“Just like that,” Lane hissed, his fingers tightening
in Grant’s hair once again. The pleasure-pain sparked down Grant’s spine,
making his balls throb with excitement.

Grant relished hearing the deep cadence of Lane’s
voice as he continued to mumble incoherently, urging Grant to continue.

“Damn, baby, that’s good.”

Grant nearly fell over, planting his palms on Lane’s
thick thighs to keep himself up.

Baby?

Had Lane really called him that? The single word did
incredible things to Grant’s insides, his heart racing out of control. He’d
never expected a term of endearment to mean so damn much to him, but seeing the
reverence on Lane’s face only solidified the meaning behind it.

Grant pulled back, gripping Lane’s cock in his fist as
he stared up at him. “Say it again.”

It was Lane’s turn to look bewildered, but then a sexy
smirk tilted the corners of his lips. “You like when I call you that?”

Grant groaned in response, sucking Lane’s dick back
into his mouth, applying firm suction as he began to bob his head faster,
stroking Lane at the same time.

“Fuck, that’s good, baby. So damn good. That’s it,
take my dick all the way. Wrap your lips around me and suck. Suck me hard,
Grant. Fuck yes.”

Without hesitation, Grant put all of his efforts into
making Lane explode. He would’ve succeeded, too, if Lane hadn’t yanked his
hair, pulling him back enough to keep him from sending Lane over the edge.

“Not yet,” Lane said hoarsely. “Come here.”

Grant got to his feet with Lane’s help, finding
himself banded in Lane’s strong arms, their mouths melded together, their
tongues dueling for control, as they both clawed at one another in an attempt
to get closer.

Once again, Lane used his grip on Grant’s hair to
bring things to a halt, the two of them staring into one another’s eyes as they
fought for breath.

“I want to come in your ass,” Lane whispered. “I want
to be buried so deep inside of you that you forget your own name.”

It was Grant’s turn to say, “Fuck yes.”

■□■□■□■□

Lane had come over with every intention of calling Grant
to the carpet, coercing him to talk about what his problems were, but then this
happened.

And now he couldn’t even remember what he wanted to
talk about.

The only thing that mattered was sliding his dick into
Grant’s hot ass, making love to him until their eyes crossed and nothing else
in the entire world mattered.

Thanks to one of their previous rendezvous in Grant’s
shower, there was a tube of lubricant tucked between the bottles of shampoo and
body wash, along with a strip of condoms that were sitting in the narrow window
near the top of the ceiling. Not that Lane had expected those few condoms still
to be there a little over a month later, but time hadn’t been kind to them in
recent weeks.

But right now, time was all they had.

“Put the condom on me,” Lane instructed as he reached
for one and then handed the foil packet to Grant.

Grant’s mouth opened slightly but then closed, a smile
forming where the confused expression had been moments before.