“I’ve got it. It’s only fair,” Gray said.
“You’re letting me stay here without charging me for it. I can at least keep the place clean for you.”
He tried to wave me away, but I wasn’t having it. I reached around his body and grabbed the plate, spinning him in my direction.
“Come on, it’s my turn to clean up. If you really like cleaning up, then let me cook at least,” he said.
“I’m not a freeloader. Let me pull my own weight around here since I don’t have much money to pay you,” I said.
“I don’t think you’re a freeloader, Michelle. And I highly doubt that Anton did, either.”
His words were like a punch to my gut. So much that I dropped the plate and took a step back. My foot hit a puddle and as my arms flailed, I felt myself going down. Falling. Towards the floor. Ready to land on my ass and crack my head open in front of this beautiful man I was fighting with at the kitchen sink.
Until that familiar sensation wrapped around my waist.
The plate crashed to the floor behind him, rolling around until the sound settled out. But I was too lost in his eyes to care. He slowly brought me to my feet again, like he’d done before all this started, only this time he didn’t let me go. His hands pressed into the small of my back, drawing me closer to him. His eyes fell to my lips. Studying me the way I had him. My eyes danced with his. My hands slid up his chest. I cupped his neck with my hands, smoothing my fingers along the veins bulging just under his skin.
Then suddenly, his lips crashed against mine, which I parted to allow his tongue entrance.
Chapter 11
Grayson
Her tongue was electrifying. It sent shivers down my spine as my cock throbbed against her body. I pressed her into the kitchen counter, the soapy water there getting her wet. I felt her tilt off to the side, deepening the kiss. Her hands felt so wonderful sliding against my skin, and fuck. Her curves. They molded around me perfectly. My hands rushed up her sides. I cupped her cheek. Fisted that beautiful hair of hers. I felt her gasp into my lips and smiled as her body pressed deeply into mine. Her tits puckered against my chest as she tugged at the hem of my shirt, her fingertips sliding along my bottom row of abs.
Shit.
What was I doing?
I pulled away, panting as I tried to catch my breath. Michelle’s eyes fluttered open as my hand released her hair. Holy fuck, did that feel good.
Damn it.
I was kissing Anton’s groundskeeper.
I stepped away from her in a flash, and I saw the look of disappointment roll across her face. I couldn’t bear it. I wanted to kiss her. To fuck her. To bury myself within her. But I was only here for a few days to put a dead man’s affairs in order. That was no time to start making out and fucking around with his official groundskeeper. Anton entrusted his house to me and everything that came with it. That included Michelle.
What kind of disappointment would I be to him if I battered her body like I’d battered his car?
Heat rushed through my veins. My eyes fell to her voluptuous tits and I could see her nipples poking through her shirt. Her hands pressed into the counter as she steadied herself and my cock grew rock hard in my pants. I needed to get out. To put so much distance between us that I forgot how her body had blanketed me. The domesticity was intense, and I liked Michelle too much to do what I really wanted to do with her.
She made me feel comfortable. She was easy to talk with. But I also wanted to fuck her. Badly. I wanted to bend her over every surface and coat every artifact in Anton’s house with her. I wanted to dive between her pussy lips and make her cum so many times she pushed me away to get me to stop. I wanted to take her out back in the yard and fuck her underneath the shade of the tree Anton refused to cut down. I wanted to take her to bed and roll my cock between her walls until she grew so tired from the pleasure she fell asleep around my dick.
“I have to go make a call,” I said. “I have to uh, check on some things.”
“Yeah. Sure,” Michelle said. “I’ll um—take care of this.”
I backtracked from the kitchen and took my phone out of my pocket. I slammed myself out of the house and into the car, desperate to get away from her scent. Her heat. Her voice. Her smile. I dialed my personal assistant to get an update on how things were going. How the vineyard was doing.
Anything to take my mind off her.
“Mr. McDonald. I was wondering when you were going to call.”
“I’m sorry, Maria. It’s been a whirlwind here in Stillsville.”
“Is that an oxymoron?” she asked.
“It might as well be. What do you have for me?”