Grayson's Vow

I had kissed men before—okay some of them more boys than men—but suddenly I realized that no, no, I had never been kissed. Not if this was the way a kiss made you feel. I had never, ever been kissed like this.

"You," Grayson said as he broke from my lips, "are so delicious. I can't get enough of you." And then, thank the Lord, he leaned back in and kissed me again, his tongue slipping into my mouth as I ran my hands down his lean, muscled back. He was so beautifully built, so broad and tall, so solid. A thrill shot through me at the intriguing feel of the unfamiliar contours of his masculine body. I wanted to know every part of him, every dip and hard plane. I could feel the hard press of his erection at my belly and it sent a jolt of arousal through my blood.

Moving my hand down between us, I rubbed it over the hard bulge at the front of his jeans. He jerked, pressing himself into my hand.

"Kira," he rasped, "I have to stop. God help me, if I don't now, I won't be able to." I shivered. I felt the same way, almost wanting to beg him not to stop, to take me right here against this cold wall. But no, José was right outside the door. He could walk back here any minute. When I gave myself to Grayson, I wanted to have lots of time, and I wanted it to be in a bed.

Grayson stepped away from me, and my eyes wandered down to the evidence of his arousal. The front of his jeans looked strained and full. I swallowed, wanting very much to feel it in my hand again.

Yes, I wanted him, I admitted. I wanted him with an aching desperation that scared me witless and excited me senseless.

I had thought I could resist him, but I had underestimated the power he possessed when he was not only bent on seduction, but when he allowed me to glimpse the tender side of his personality. And now, I had no desire to resist.

"We should get back," I said, smoothing my hair as best as possible.

He studied me for several beats before using one finger to move a wayward curl of hair off my cheek. "Stay with me tonight," he whispered. "Come to my bed, Kira."

Fear and want coiled simultaneously in my belly. It would be playing with fire. I knew it would be. And yet . . . I wanted to. I wanted to know him intimately. I wanted him to make me feel beautiful and desirable like he'd done the night before. I wanted to know the feel of his body as well, what he liked, what made him wild with passion. I might develop feelings for him, in fact, I probably would. Perhaps I already had. But I'd manage them. After all, what was life without a few exciting adventures? Wasn't it worth a little heartache to know a touch like Grayson Hawthorn's? One that lit me up from the inside out. What if I never knew one like it again? Shouldn't I snatch this experience up while I had the chance? Even if difficult, I would manage my emotions. And I would never, ever allow myself the foolish hope that becoming physical with my husband would lead to feelings on his part.

"Yes," I said, meeting his eyes.

Triumph filled his expression and he took my hand, pulling on it. We called goodbye to José and then stepped outside into the bright sunshine. We strolled up the hill and when we entered the house a few minutes later, I grabbed my suitcase, which Grayson had placed inside earlier and turned around to return it to my cottage.

"Hey, whoa, where are you going?" he asked.

I turned. "To my cottage."

"You're not staying there anymore. I moved you up to the house."

"You moved me?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. I liked my little cottage. I liked having my own space. And if things were going to advance between Grayson and me in . . . other ways, it was going to be imperative I had a place that was only mine.

"Yes. Part of the reason you were sick is that you were breathing in all that dusty air, taking cold showers—"

"That's ridiculous. I had a virus. You don't get a virus from dusty air or cold showers."

"Maybe. Maybe not. You're still moving into the house."

"I'm not."

"You are."

We stood in a standoff in the foyer for several moments, until Grayson crossed his arms, leaning casually against the wall. "You already agreed to stay in my room tonight."

"Yes, tonight, but that doesn't mean I'm moving in with you."

"You are."

"I'm not," I ground out. The grand staircase caught my eye and I looked at Grayson, raising one eyebrow. "I'll race you. Winner gets his or her way."

He laughed. "Race me? Oh, little witch, you don't stand a chance in a race against me. You might as well surrender now."

"I'll never surrender. And I don't mean a foot race. I'll race you down the bannister. You take one side, I'll take the other." I'd been dying to slide down that bannister since I'd first seen it. This was the perfect opportunity. I was a bannister-sliding expert. If anyone knew grand stairways, it was me. My father's home had three.

Grayson laughed again. "You must be joking."

I raised both brows in answer.

"No, of course you're not joking. This is ridiculous, you do know that, right?" But he began walking toward the staircase. I followed and when we'd made it to the top, he moved to the right and I moved to the left. I positioned my butt up on the dark polished wood.

"I can't even believe I'm doing this," Grayson muttered, positioning himself on the other rail.

"If you're nervous, I'll give you a head start," I said, smiling prettily at him.

He grinned back devilishly. "No need, witch, let's do this."