Grant couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped.
She hit him with a look equivalent to a kick to the balls. “You think this is funny? My dream just went to hell and you’re laughing?”
She shrugged out of his grip and stomped into the house past him.
Well, shit. “Baby, I’m not laughing at you or your dream, I just…” He followed her into the house. “If those assholes can’t appreciate your humor, the girl you are, then who the fuck needs them? There are other TV stations out there who’ll appreciate you. We’ll look…”
But as he babbled on like an imbecile, she spun around on her her heel and with her hands on her hips, her how dare you glare morphed into a broad gotcha grin.
His words halted and he narrowed his gaze, her shift in demeanor smacking him upside the head. “You little shit. You got the job, didn’t you?”
She tipped her head to the side, her eyes all sunshine and mischief. “Not exactly.”
“Spill it, freckles.”
“So…all that stuff I told you was true. I did trip and talk about my cat. And they offered someone else the anchor job. But…” She rocked forward on her toes with every word, like she was barely restraining herself from bouncing up and down. “They offered me my own show.”
“What?”
She made a sound he’d never heard come from her before—the oh, my God squeal that teenage girls seemed to have the patent on. Then her words poured out of her at a speed that could break the sound barrier. “They’ve been wanting to do a daytime show that features the kind of stories I research, feel-good stories about athletes and local organizations. Dig into the beyond-the-playing-field things. And they wanted someone the viewers could relate to—someone who would make them laugh but also who knew her sports. And they think that’s me. They want it to be me!”
She did hop this time and then launched herself at him. If she’d known how very girly she looked in that moment, she’d never worry about being too tomboy again. He wrapped his arms around her and spun her off her feet, her elation contagious. “I’m so proud of you, baby. I knew someone would have to see how perfect you are for this.”
He set her down on her feet and she grinned up at him. “I had you going there, didn’t I? Mr. Dom who can read everybody got punked by my superior acting skills.”
He attempted a stern look, though he was too thrilled for her to truly pull it off. “You had me worried out of my mind. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“And miss out on this fun? Hell, no.”
He gripped her hips and seated her against the growing bulge in his jeans. “You realize how much trouble you’re in now, right, Charlotte? You didn’t think tricking me would have consequences?”
Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips in a nervous tic that had anticipation tightening in his groin. “Maybe I don’t mind consequences.”
He pulled her down onto the couch with him, a soft yelp slipping past her lips. “Well, now I really have no choice. Purposely goading me. Reckless girl.”
“Sorry, sir.” The words were an apology, but he could hear the want in her voice, the ache.
God, he loved how playful she was. It made everything all the more fun. He turned her to the side, then draped her across his spread thighs. She squirmed against him for a moment, then softened, her muscles melting against him. He could already sense her slipping into subspace. She fell under so easily now it took his breath away. Beautiful.
He lifted her skirt and slid her lacy panties down her thighs. He ran a hand along the smooth skin of her ass, loving the quiver her body gave at his slightest touch. Her sexy scent drifted up to him and he had to take a few seconds to settle his own aching drive. Sometimes he wanted her so badly he feared he’d fire off like an inexperienced teenager.
“You think it was nice to make me worry about you, Charlotte?”
Her fingers curled into the couch cushion. “No, sir.”
He rubbed a circular pattern along the globes of her ass with his palm, then drew back in a high arc and delivered a stinging smack on the right side. She arched her back and her breathy moan stoked the embers already burning hot in him. He gave her a matching swat on the other side, her fair skin going pink instantly. He relished seeing his handprint on her, his mark. His fingers traced the shape. Pity those marks faded so quickly.
“You made me pace the floors, love.” He spanked her center, right above the soft, already damp folds of her sex. She let loose a more desperate sound as a shudder worked through her. Whether she realized it or not, her hips tilted higher, silently asking for more. He brushed his fingers along her wetness, dipping inside and feeling the clench of her pussy. “You know, if I was a betting man, I’d say that you tricked me knowing this would be the outcome. Am I not being hard enough on you, freckles? You need more discipline than I’m giving you?”
Since they’d moved into together, he’d been testing her limits, getting a feel for where she needed him to push and where he needed to pull back. But maybe he’d been too soft. Figuring out how to do this with love in the mix had been his own version of edge play—scary and thrilling but uncharted territory.
She turned her head, her cheek pressed to the couch but her hooded gaze on him. “All I need is you, Grant. You don’t have to be careful with me or hold back. What pleases you is going to please me.”
The words wrapped around his chest and squeezed, the gift of her true submission almost too heady to process. She was his. Honestly and without fine print. No contracts or carefully negotiated rules. Just he and Charli finding their way together.
He brushed the back of his hand over the line of her jaw. “Get up, Charlotte. Show me you know how to properly apologize for your inconsiderate behavior.”
Charli pushed herself up and off his lap, her blood pumping and her head buzzing. Today had been one of the happiest she could remember, but nothing had felt complete until she’d walked into this cabin and told Grant about it. And he’d been right. She knew he’d make her pay for teasing him, but she’d needed nothing more at the end of this day then to give herself over to him, to surrender.