With Good Behavior (21 page)

She felt her face flush, thinking about the queen-size bed in his new apartment, just waiting to be christened. As Grant stuck some cash in with the bill, Sophie suggested, “How about we buy a few things for your apartment?”

He looked up at her. “What, like towels and soap?”

She nodded. “And sheets.”

Their eyes locked, and Grant felt a stirring down below. Maybe he was feeling better after all.

S
ophie snapped the flat sheet out in front of her, making it billow over the queen-sized mattress before Grant caught it in his sure grasp on the opposite side of the bed. They gently let it float down, then smoothed it over the fitted sheet. That task complete, they stared awkwardly across the bed, and an edgy vibe filled the room.

“They’re perfect.” Grant nodded toward the sage-green, leaf-patterned sheets. “Thank you so much for buying them.”

“You’ve already thanked me about ten times.” Sophie grinned. “I was happy to buy them. It’s my little housewarming gift to you.”

She thought back to the department store they’d visited after dinner. It was obvious Grant liked the sheets and towels she picked out for him, but he seemed to hesitate. Nervously murmuring that he needed to find an ATM, he’d scurried away, leaving her standing alone with the bedding near the cash register.

He’d returned to find her beaming as she proudly presented the items, already purchased and bagged.

“You didn’t have to get me a gift, you know.”

“Well, I couldn’t find a congratulations-on-your-first-apartment-after-prison card,” she said with a smile.

His hearty laugh dispelled the tension. Grant felt full of gratitude. All he wanted to do was to be with her—hold her in his arms and ply her with kisses.

He set one knee on the bed and swiftly crawled across the mattress. Kneeling on the bed with bare feet, he met her eye-level.

His presence mere inches from her, the strength of his body next to hers, the warmth in his eyes, the curve of his lips, his laugh—it all flooded her senses. Placing her hands on his shoulders to ground herself, Sophie leaned into him.

Clutching her slender hips, he drew her into in a yearning, sensuous kiss. Her knees pressed against the bed and her hands slid down his back, massaging and kneading his taut muscles. As their kiss deepened, they intuitively moved together: Grant pulling her forward and Sophie following his lead up onto the bed, both kneeling on the mattress now while their hands groped each other hungrily.

Grant pried his lips from hers only to nuzzle his mouth near her ear, planting feathery kisses down the curve of her neck until his moist lips landed on her bare shoulder, rosy and freckled from the afternoon sun. His mouth continued its journey, languishing along her collarbone and sliding up along her neck, causing her to tilt her chin and revel in the sensation of him devouring her. Sophie closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure as his mouth grazed over her skin, heating her with his warm breath.

When he slid the spaghetti strap of her light-blue camisole down her shoulder, Sophie began to unbutton his lightweight madras shirt. She simply 
had
 to get it off of his body. Their undressing had a driving, frantic quality, and each eventually realized it was faster to remove their own shirt. Sophie crossed her arms over her waist and lifted her top over her head while Grant shrugged out of his now unbuttoned short-sleeve shirt.

Only when they faced each other, their shirts carelessly tossed to the beige carpet beside the bed, did they pause. Eyeing Sophie’s lacy strapless bra, Grant cleared his throat.

“You’re so beautiful, Sophie …” His voice trailed off, but he forced himself to begin again. “It’s, um, it’s been a dry spell for me. I’ve been locked away in a men’s prison for more than two years.”

Sophie nodded. She was a little rusty herself. She brushed her fingertips across his solid pectoral muscles, which she’d been craving to do ever since the night drunken McSailor had crashed at Kirsten’s apartment. Playfully stroking his chest, she asked, “So, your sentence was four years?”

Grant inhaled deeply, distracted by her soft caress, before he refocused and shook his head. “Three.”

She gazed up at him, puzzled. “But with good behavior, you’d be out in about half of your sentence, wouldn’t you? Eighteen months?”

“With good behavior?” he repeated distractedly, buying himself some time. Unconsciously curling his fingers, his right hand tingled with the memory of careening into another prisoner’s jaw. The ensuing image of a small, dark solitary cell jammed itself into his consciousness, and he found himself having trouble getting air. He panicked, thinking she would intuitively know about his psychotic breakdown in the hole.

Misreading his anxious expression, a coquettish smirk played on Sophie’s pink lips. “Maybe your behavior wasn’t so good? Maybe you were …” She dropped her voice huskily. “Very bad?”

All images of Gurnee were gone in a flash. “Bad?” Grant asked. He brazenly lifted one hand to cup her breast, his smooth voice matching the silky softness of her bra. “I feel 
very
 bad behavior coming on. What do you think about that?”

“I think I can handle it.” She sat back on her heels and locked eyes with him as she unclasped her bra. Allowing the lingerie to fall softly from her small breasts, she tossed the bra to the floor, where it joined the outer garments in a heap.

Suddenly seized by nervousness, one hand unconsciously flitted up to cover herself. “I’m, um, I’m kind of flat. Sorry.”

He looked almost wounded. “You’re exquisite,” he countered, drawing her back up to kneeling. Her nipples grazed his chest, driving him crazy with anticipation. He smoothed one hand over her hair, and she released the band holding her ponytail. Thick reddish-golden hair brushed over her shoulders and curled near her breasts. Her coppery eyes scorched him.

Grant plunged forward to ravage her mouth with kisses while his hands explored her firm breasts—cupping, caressing, and stimulating her hardening flesh. “You see, they fit in my hands perfectly.” Gasping for air at the touch of his long, supple fingers, she skimmed her fingertips down his ribcage and along the hard lines of his hips.

“I like Bad Grant,” she murmured between kisses. Her slender fingers skated on his waistband and began unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans.

“Ladies first,” he urgently whispered back, dropping his hands and racing to remove her white pants. Grant whipped them down her lean thighs before she’d even pulled his jeans over his rear end. Although to be fair, he cheated by gyrating his hips and preventing her from getting a firm grasp on his jeans. His evasive maneuvers made her giggle.

Next, Grant problem-solved by playfully pushing her backward on the bed to finish removing her pants. Sophie’s head landed on a pillow as she willingly fell onto the sheets, circling her calves around to extend in front of her. Soon her creamy, lithe legs were fully exposed.

Grant paused at the vision of her smooth, milky skin adorned only with silky white panties. Her long, lean body lay before him in all its glory, beckoning. She grinned at the sight of his jeans hanging jauntily off his hips, the waistband of his navy-blue boxers easily visible. “Take off those jeans, McSailor,” she ordered.

He raised one eyebrow. “McSailor?”

“Oh!” she erupted in giggles once again. “Didn’t I mention the nickname Kirsten gave you?”

Narrowing his eyes, his voice sounded suspicious as he asked, “Exactly what happened the night I passed out in her apartment?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you about it after you take off those pants.”

He considered her offer and quickly peeled off his jeans. Crawling up the bed, he sidled in next to her and leaned on his elbow as they lay side by side. His right hand grazed the skin inside her right knee, then his fingertips brushed up the length of her thigh. With each advancing inch, she breathed in a little more, her chest rising and expanding with each inhalation until she was almost hyperventilating.

Her skin tingling, Sophie’s mood turned serious. Grant could read the want and need in her brown eyes. Both felt a catch in their throats as the air became thin. Grant’s hand rested lightly on her stomach, his tantalizing fingertips teasing her with a promised advancement and breach into her territory. His military training would not go to waste tonight.

Both knew exactly what they wanted, but taking this opportunity to practice 
direct
 communication once again, Sophie planted a warm kiss on Grant’s awaiting lips before sliding off her panties in one fluid motion.

Grant’s grateful face hovered over hers, and he whispered, “Let’s christen these sheets, shall we?”

She nodded and his lips crashed onto hers again, his hand moving to cradle her face as they kissed passionately. His hand stroked her long, silky hair, then slowly traveled south, pausing at her breasts to caress and massage her nipples, then snaking down the center groove of her flat abdomen.

Enraptured by his kisses, Sophie felt weightless and floating, utterly aroused and craving his attention to her body. But when his nimble fingers finally made their way to her receptive core, she entered a new level of ecstasy. Those long, artistic fingers that seemed so out of place on his muscular, military body; those fingers that were nonetheless perfect for Grant since they fit his gentle, intelligent nature; those fingers that adeptly repaired any piece of equipment on the ship; those fingers that fidgeted when he was nervous—those fingers now fired up a heat inside her so intense and so deep that she let out a guttural moan.

He expertly rubbed and circled her clitoris, and Sophie could not stifle her explicit sounds of pleasure with each rapid exhalation. Was he going to bring her to orgasm 
already?
 She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, providing Grant with a burst of satisfaction and confidence as he read her look of pleasure and arousal at his hand.

As her pelvic muscles contracted around his fingers, Sophie felt heat spread into her abdomen and radiate throughout her body. She shuddered and a look somewhere between bliss and alarm crossed her flushed face as she realized he was undoing her, leaving her with little self-control. She simultaneously wanted to beg him to continue and plead with him to stop, lest she cry out like an animal from his astonishing touch.

McSailor’s fingers were miraculous and marvelous! Suddenly an image appeared in her mind, like a marquee flashing in her eyes:

FOR A LIMITED TIME ONLY... MCSAILOR’S MAGIC FINGERS!

A bright smile formed on her lips, and she somehow regained enough focus to gaze into those crystal-blue eyes.

“Something funny?” he asked, resting his hand on her inner thigh.

Her response was breathy and low. “You’re very skilled, McSailor.”

With a sudden move, she rolled onto her side and maintained eye contact while she entangled her legs with his, something 
he
 had desired since the morning he woke up in Kirsten’s apartment and watched her beautiful body at rest. He sensed her weight leaning into him, causing a pressure to well forcefully inside his boxer shorts. As her delicate lips met his, he gave in and was soon lying on his back, defenseless.

Unlocking their lips, her hands traced the contours of his abdominal muscles. She glanced at the growing bulge in his boxer shorts and grinned, pleased that she was arousing him too. Sliding her finger beneath his waistband, she peered up at him with a wicked smile. “What do we have here?” she inquired, lifting the waistband as if she were planning to peek inside his shorts.

Instead, she yanked down his boxers, exposing his erection to the light, to breathe and grow. “Oh my,” she cooed appreciatively, tossing the boxers toward the expanding heap of clothing on the floor. “Looks like we have our very own Spire right here!”

He gave a low, sexy laugh, slowly shaking his head. “You are crazy, Soph—”

A gasp prevented him from finishing his sentence. Her soft hands firmly stroked and stimulated him as he became harder and harder. Her expert touch slid down the length of his shaft and caressed the tip, which made him clutch at the fitted sheet and nearly buck off of the bed. Where had she learned how to incite such arousal in a man, leaving him vulnerable and helpless? Grant didn’t know and he didn’t care. He just wanted her to keep going.

Feeling a rising force below his belly, he panted for air and instructed, “My jeans … the pocket … Sophie!”

She pushed off him and contorted her body across the bed, stretching for his jeans and rummaging through his back pockets until her hand discovered the desired item. Crawling back toward him, she held the packaged condom up for his inspection, eyes questioning.

Grant swallowed. “There was a drugstore next to the ATM.”

“Wishful thinking, Madsen?”

He shrugged. “Hey, 
you’re
 the one who bought the sheets.”

Tracing the condom across his thigh, she inquired suspiciously, “So, you don’t carry these around with you for a quickie with a cruise passenger?”

He smiled and reached for her, drawing her body on top of his. “I much prefer the cruise staff,” he informed her. “Particularly the hot waitress.”

They resumed their kissing, and Sophie felt his erection pushing against her lower abdomen. Drenched in excitement and desire, and sensing it was time, she helped him slide the condom onto his throbbing penis. They could not move fast enough. Grasping his wiry biceps, Sophie gazed down at him with yearning.

Craving to be inside her, to be joined with this amazing woman, Grant eased himself into her wetness, and they both exhaled to finally be as one.

Sophie inhaled sharply as he cupped her bottom with both hands and pressed her toward him. With each thrust deep inside her, she felt a shuddering sensation that intensified and spread throughout her body. Her sighs and moans were swallowed by Grant as they continued their sweet kisses. He provided the perfect mix of ravishing and respect during their lovemaking, and a rhythmic tightening overtook her as the Grant tsunami crashed over her, wave after wave, making her call out in rapture.