Free Jailbait by Emily Goodwin

has happened that I don’t know about.” I stare at the man before me, overcome by the weirdest feeling of longing for what we once had, while at the same time feeling like I’m finally home.  
    Dammit. Why does he have such a hold on me like this?  
    “I said we’ll talk,” he reminds me.  
    I bite my lip and nod. “Right.”  
    A few seconds pass silently as we both stand there in the dimly lit kitchen, unmoving. “So,” Grayson says. “Are we having sex or not?”  
    “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”  
    He steps closer and my heart speeds up with indignation. It sparks the fire and I lunge forward, putting my hands on his chest. I push him against the cupboard and put my lips to his, kissing him as hard as I can, harder than I’ve ever kissed anyone.  
    Grayson kisses me back with the same desperation. His arms wrap around me, picking me up and placing me on the island counter. I hold on, pressing myself against him.
    “Pepper,” he growls, taking his lips from mine. He puts them on my neck, nipping and sucking at my skin. I toss my head back and let my hands drop from his shoulders, running down his firm chest, along his abs, and onto the waist of his jeans. I circle the metal button with my thumb and widen my legs, allowing him to move in closer. His cock is already hard, barely confined behind his jeans.  
    He lets out a moan when I pop the button and pull down the zipper. I let my fingers slowly explore the full length of his erection, taking my time when I get to the sensitive tip. Then I let go, putting my hands on his waist. Already, he misses my touch and is craving more. He lowers his hands to my ass and scoots me to the edge of the counter. It’s the perfect height for his cock to rub against me in the exact right place.
    Still kissing me, Grayson reaches down and yanks off my riding boots. They fall to the floor with heavy thuds. I grab the hem of his black t-shirt and pull it up. He lifts his arms and helps me take it off. His chest is decorated with scars and tattoos. I could stare at them for hours, studying, memorizing, asking questions.  
    But right now, I can’t even think straight.  
    Grayson urges me back so he can take my breeches off. I lean back on my elbows and lift my ass so he can get the tight pants off. They’re thrown on the floor somewhere near my boots. I yank his jeans down, he takes off my shirt, and in those few seconds we’re apart, I become desperate. He falls forward again, wrapping me in his arms and kissing me like the end of the world is coming.  
    His bare torso feels so good against me. Warm. Strong. Comforting. And holy hell, sexy. He gathers my hair in his fist again as he kisses me, then uses it to pull my head back. He’s busy with my neck, awakening every nerve inside of me. Tingles plague my body, sending little pulses of pleasure to my core. I’m so hot for him.
    His hands travel down my body, not stopping until his fingers hover between my legs. Positive he can feel the heat coming off me, he nips at my skin with his teeth, and then moves his mouth back to mine. I ache for him and the desperation grows. He pushes against my most sensitive parts, moving his fingers in a slow circle. I let out a gasp and curl my fingers, nails pressing into his skin.  
    He urges me back further, and I have to let go of him and rest my weight on my elbows. Slowly, he strips me bare, dropping my panties on the ground behind him. He parts my legs and steps in.  
    “Gray,” I pant, feeling too exposed up here on the counter. Light pours down on me, illuminating my body. I feel like I’m on display and self-consciousness hits me. He pulls back and blinks but is unable to keep his eyes from scanning my body. And now he’s looking like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world, like I’m the only thing that matters and if he doesn’t have more, he’ll die.
    “You are so fucking beautiful,” he growls, lust burning in his eyes.
    Any self-consciousness I was