Page 89 of Cockpit
“Maybe I was itching for the limelight, Grayson, but you can’t fault someone for wanting to spread their wings. Like you said,
people change. People try things and see if they like them. If they don’t, then they adjust and try again. You changed. You used to be shy and unassertive, and you’re neither anymore. Should I fault you for being that way?”
“No. I learned from my mistakes.”
He stares at me, that muscle pulsing in his jaw and his subtle scent of shampoo and soap filling my nose. There are so many things he wants to say written in those eyes of his.
“We’ve done enough talking, Malone,” I murmur as I take the initiative for the first time since we’ve met. I lean forward and kiss him. Gently. Slowly. Teasingly. His body jolts in surprise. “You canceled our date.”
Another kiss. A slide of his hand up my back to pull me into the V of his thighs where he’s sitting on the railing. Another soft sigh into the night.
“I figured you’d had enough of my crazy life.” He chuckles and then meets my lips again.
“Not crazy. Just protective.” Our lips brush over each other’s as we speak. His hand cups the back of my neck. His thighs squeeze gently against mine. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean to upset you, and I didn’t look at the situation through your eyes or Luke’s.”
“I’m sorry I went off the deep end.”
“Not that I’m any judge of it, but you really are a good father. You just need to remember that it’s okay to be a man, too.”
He guides my hand to rest atop where his dick is hard and presses against the fabric of his shorts. “Is that man enough for you?” I chuckle against his lips.
Just the feel of him hard for me sends a hit of desire straight to the delta of my thighs.
“Is this the part where we kiss and make up?” I ask as every sense goes on high alert at the mere promise of another kiss. Of another touch. Of him.
Our lips meet. Our tongues dance. Our bodies react.
“I like this part,” he murmurs as one hand slides under the back of my shirt so that his fingers skim along the skin just above my waistband. He drugs me with his mouth. He entices me with his touch. He makes me anticipate with that groan in the back of his throat. “Luke’s inside,” he murmurs against my lips and rests his forehead against mine.
“And?”
“And what if he wakes up?”
“It seems you have eyes in the back of your head when it comes to him, so I think it would be perfectly fine if you kissed me.”
“Like this?”
His lips possess mine. Thoroughly. Intoxicatingly.
“Just like that.”
The bed is hot despite the cool sheets against my bare skin.
The sun is bright through my eyelids.
When I stretch my arms overhead, I feel the tug of Grayson’s hand against my side, pulling me in against his body, and the tempting hardness of him against my ass.
Good God, the man is like a drug. He can piss me off, cancel a date on me, test me on more levels than I’m used to, and yet, I still want more of him.
That’s a scary thought.
I wiggle my ass against his crotch, which earns me a sleep-drugged groan and has his hand pulling me tighter into him.
Then there’s the knock.
“Dad?”
The thought of sleepy morning sex goes out the damn window as Grayson jumps out of bed as if I’ve just poured a bucket of ice water on him.
