There’s that sigh again. “More often than I can count. My mom always says, ‘Think, then speak, Gracie.’”
Leaning across her, I wrap my hand around her thigh and pull her over, so she straddles my lap. “It’s good advice, but I’m really glad you’ve never learned to take it.”
“Do you think I’m a tramp or hard up?” She rolls her hips forward.
My cock is so hard that it takes my breath away. “I think you’re the most fabulous woman I know. I’m sure if you want sex, you only have to ask or say yes, so probably not hard up.”
She rocks against me again and moans. “I never ask or say yes.”
“Never?”
“Well, not in a pretty long time.” She kisses my cheek.
Cupping her ass, I drag her forward and hold her tight against my shaft. “How long?”
Leaning her forehead on mine, she lets out a long breath. “Three and a half years.”
The goddess straddling my lap hasn’t had sex in so long, it leaves me breathless. “Why?”
She shrugs. “I don’t like empty sex.”
I probably should examine that for a long time, but it’s impossible to think as we are. “I want to taste every inch of you, Grace.”
“Landon.” The way she says it makes me like my name way more than I ever have before. “Do you mind if I use the bathroom and wash up? Maybe find my good sense? Maybe not?”
While I’m harder than a diamond, I can see where it’s wise to take a step back. After all, this is a strange situation. We’re locked in what’s basically a kitchen, and until this afternoon, hadn’t spoken to each other in two years. “I don’t mind.”
She drags herself from my lap. “See. Nice.”
The way her jeans hug her ass is enough to drive any man insane. I watch every soft sway as she crosses to the bathroom door. The black blouse is fitted tight to her waist. The few buttons that are open at the front reveal the swell of perfect tits under a tank top.
I breathe long and deep to get my hard-on under control. Maybe I’ll make a meal. I’m hungry, and I know Grace is famished.
The leftover steak from the dinner service is wrapped up in the fridge.
Pulling a cutting board out of the cabinet and a knife from the block, I think about tacos. “Grace, do you like tacos?”
She pops her head out of the bathroom door. “Is that a random question?”
I can only see her blond head and one nearly bare shoulder with a black bra strap. Still, the idea of what she might be hiding behind that door is driving me mad. “I have the means to make some if you like tacos.”
Her smile is bright and infectious. “Love them.”
Once she’s back behind the door, I grab some peppers, onions, seasoning, and get to work. I get the onions and peppers seasoned and sautéing. Back to the cutting board, I slice the steak but wait to add it since it’s already cooked.
On another burner, I’m about to give the tortillas a little singe when the bathroom door opens. Glancing over my shoulder, I have to do a double take.
In black panties and her black tank, Grace walks over to the couch. She eases down, watching me while biting her bottom lip. “You’re going to burn your tortilla.”
Snapping out of my shock, I turn back to the stove, put the food aside, and turn off the burners. I pop a lid on the vegetables and put the cutting board in the fridge.
I’m so fucking hard, I have to close my eyes while I wash my hands. “You look amazing.”
“But you’re not looking.”
While I dry my hands on a kitchen towel, I turn toward her. “I nearly set off the smoke alarms because I was most definitely looking.”
“Did you want to finish cooking, or…” She shrugs, unsure of herself.