Jaw Breaker (Forbidden Flowers Book 3)

by Donya Lynne

  And give that man brownie points for not just thinking about her, but about Jess too.

  “What are you two drinking?” he asked.

  Jess squeezed up beside her. “Caribbean mist.”

  The bartender stopped in front of them and leaned in.

  “Two caribbean mists and another scotch and soda, please.” He set his empty glass on the bar beside hers.

  With a brusque nod, the bartender ran off to fix their drinks.

  “My name’s Grey,” he said, speaking loud enough to be heard over the music.

  “Grey? Really?” She couldn’t help smiling. “Like the name of a certain character from a certain book that shall remain unnamed?”

  He rolled his eyes impishly, his cheeks flushed. “I’ve never read that book, so I barely know what it’s about, just what I’ve heard through the grapevine.”

  “You should read it. It’s very educational.”

  He flashed a perfect smile, making the sexy dimple in the center of his chin more pronounced. “I’ll think about it.” He studied her for a moment. “My full name is Greyson. It’s a family name. But everyone calls me Grey. I promise I don’t hurt women for pleasure, or whatever that guy does in those books.” His slashing eyebrows ticked inward as if the idea of hurting women made him uncomfortable, which scored him even more brownie points.

  Katherine pretended to be affronted. “You don’t?” She gasped dramatically. “That’s too bad. Here I was hoping that you would tie me up and flog me senseless.”

  His mouth fell open, and he appeared both lost for words and completely thrown.

  She laughed and placed her hand reassuringly on his forearm, which was resting on the bar. “I’m only kidding, Greyson.”

  Relief washed over him, and he smiled again. “Ah, okay.” He looked to the side and chuckled tightly. “You had me worried for a second.”

  Then he did something she didn’t expect. Something that made her stop laughing and draw in a shaky breath.

  He placed his hand over hers.

  He was still chuckling, his gaze averted almost shyly, and yet his casual, effortless touch felt more intimate than if he had reached under her dress and caressed the inside of her thigh. She didn’t even think he realized what he’d done. As if comforting people came naturally to him . . . to the point that he didn’t even think about it.

  But his touch wasn’t comforting at all, not to her. It was dizzying. Arousing. All-consuming. And he had rough hands. Man hands, as she called them. Pleasantly callused, warm, and dry. She didn’t know what it was about rough hands that turned her on so much, but they did. To her, calluses were a sign that a man not only worked hard, but also played hard. And given Greyson’s physique, it was a safe bet his calluses were a result of both. He struck her as the kind of man who climbed mountains or ran military-grade obstacle courses worthy of SEAL training for fun. He possessed a Special Forces vibe that made her think he’d be just as sexy dressed in SWAT gear and holding an AR-15 as he was dressed in the shimmery gray shirt and black tailored slacks he was wearing tonight.

  In the moment that his hand touched hers, an electrical current traveled up her arm, strengthening the strange connection she felt with him.

  Becoming aware that she’d stopped laughing, he turned and looked at her. Whatever emotion he read in her expression made his smile fade, and a moment later, lust-filled enchantment seeped into the lines of his face. His thumb brushed over the back of her hand, and she sucked in her breath, which in turn made him suck in his.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, stepping closer as someone jostled him from behind.

  “Katherine.”

  “Katherine.” He rolled her name over his tongue. Who would have thought her own name could be an aphrodisiac? But the way it sounded rumbling over Greyson’s vocal cords was enough to make her insides quiver and her long-neglected libido stand up and take notice. “You have a beautiful name.”

  She’d never thought of her name as beautiful until just this second. “Everybody calls me Kate.”

  “I like Katherine.”

  So did she, especially when he said it. “Then you can call me Katherine.”

  They stared at each other for a moment, and the rest of the patrons in Alesca briefly faded away. “I like Greyson myself,” she added. Greyson was a rugged and sophisticated name. Grey was kind of blah. Like the color.

  His hand curled over hers and squeezed as he drew in a deep breath. “Then you can call me Greyson.”

  She gazed into his eyes. They were the most interesting color. A cross between gray and blue. Hmm, maybe gray wasn’t so blah after all. She was staring again, hypnotized.

  There was no denying what was happening between them. She wanted him. He wanted her. She had never felt stronger chemistry with anyone. Not even with her ex, Phil, who she’d been smitten with when they had first met.

  How could she feel this strongly about a man she’d didn’t even know? She couldn’t say it was love at first sight, but it was definitely lust at first sight, with the potential for something much more.

  The bartender destroyed the moment by returning with their drinks. Greyson jerked away, tearing his hand from hers to pull out his wallet.

  Cold air replaced the tingling warmth of his hand, making the absence of his touch annoyingly obvious.

  He tossed two twenties on the bar. “Keep the change,” he said.

  The bartender nodded in thanks and tucked the bills into his palm.

  Greyson stuffed his wallet back into his pocket, handed her and Jess their drinks, then grabbed his own. “Would you like to join us?” He glanced toward the table on the balcony where his friends were talking up a pair of long-legged blondes.

  She exchanged glances with Jess, silently imploring her not to let her time with Greyson end. Jess nodded as if to say there was no way she would take this opportunity away from her. Katherine could have kissed her.

  “Sure,” she said, facing Greyson again.

  He took her hand and guided them up the stairs to their table, not even giving the blondes a second glance. More brownie points piled onto his scorecard.

  He introduced her and Jess to his friends, Mike and Ed. Greetings circled the table, then he pulled out the chair nearest the banister so she could sit. He took the seat beside her, resting his arm on the back of her chair. Jess took a seat across the table, next to Ed.

  The music was too loud for them to talk much, keeping them from getting to know more about each other, but the way sparks exploded across her skin when his fingertips brushed her shoulder, she didn’t think talking was going to be necessary.

  The air crackled around her and Greyson. She hadn’t felt this way since college, free and full of lusty hormones crying out for a good time.

  As they sipped their drinks, exchanged heated glances, and watched the people dancing below them, as well as on the platform across from them, they inched closer to each other until she was pressed against him.

  “You smell good,” she said, raising her voice just loud enough for him to hear her.

  He dipped his nose against her ear. “So do you.” His breath warmed her earlobe, sending a fiery shiver down her spine.

  She had to force herself not to pant as she glanced over her shoulder at him. His smoldering gaze burned like flaming embers into hers, then dropped to her mouth as his fingers grazed the back of her shoulder again. He drew closer, and that sexy, smirky grin did naughty things to her belly.

  Her body tilted toward him, and her breathing deepened. His face was so close to hers she could smell his aftershave. It was a clean, zesty fragrance. Crisp. Like tangy limes sweetened with honey. His eyes searched hers, and he was wearing a slight frown, as if he were confused about his response to her.

  She understood completely how he felt, because she was just as confused by her reaction to him.

  His mouth hovered inches from hers, and all she wanted was for him to kiss her. She needed his mouth on hers to know this was real, as well
as to ground her in the moment. Kissing him would seal the deal or kill it. If he was a good kisser, she would know she’d found her summer fling. If he wasn’t, game over. At this point, everything hinged on the kiss. He could have the smallest penis in the world, but she was so turned on that if his kiss made her feel half as good as his light caresses on her back and shoulder, she would put all her chips on Grey and consider her search for a man to spend the summer with complete.

  The tip of his tongue wet the seam of his mouth, and she pulled in her breath, preparing herself. Just as he began to lean in, his friends laughed loudly at something Jess said, and Greyson jerked away, turning toward them as he retrieved his arm from the back of her chair.

  Her lungs deflated, and she turned away to hide her disappointment. The magical moment was gone. She was back in the club, with frenzied techno beating the air all around. Bodies crushed in on one another in a wave of movement resembling mass fornication. An overlying buzz of intoxication—induced by both alcohol and synthetic drugs—crackled the atmosphere.

  Greyson’s hand slid around hers, drawing her attention back to him.

  “Dance with me?” It was both a request and a question.

  She bit her lip, knowing instinctively that if she danced with him, they would leave Alesca together. She didn’t know how she knew that, but she did. Maybe it was the urgent, almost desperate look in his eyes. Maybe it was the way his fingers squeezed hers. Or maybe it was just this bizarre connection between them. All she knew was that once she left this chair, she wouldn’t return to it.

  Katherine had never had sex with a man she’d only just met, and this wasn’t even a first date. She’d known Greyson all of thirty minutes, but she was already so turned on that if he wanted to take her to the men’s room and fuck her against a urinal, she wasn’t sure she had the strength to say no.

  Have you ever felt like that? So driven by feral need and desire that you didn’t care where you were or who saw you? You just had to fuck? Not make love. Not have sex. But fuck? Like wild animals or cavepeople bent over a boulder, giving in to their primal urges?

  That was where Katherine now found herself. Between that boulder and Greyson’s hard place.

  “Katherine?”

  She returned to the present and held her breath as she searched his face. Could she trust him? Could she trust herself?

  “Would you like to dance?” he asked again.

  She wanted him. She did. Unapologetically and without remorse.

  Nodding, she gripped his hand and shifted forward in her chair.

  Jess stared at her, eyes wide and inquisitive.

  As Greyson took her hand and began to lead her away from the table, she paused, leaned down, and whispered, “Don’t wait up.”

  A victorious smile broke over Jess’s face as she watched her walk away, led by the man she hoped would not disappoint her.

  “Go get him,” she mouthed, just before Katherine faced front as they reached the stairs.

  Clutching her pocketbook in one hand and Greyson’s hand in the other as she followed him down to the main dance floor, she had every intention of getting him. And once she got him, she wouldn’t let him go for two months.

  Whether he knew it or not, Greyson had just become her summer fling.

  Chapter Three

  On the dance floor, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, not just because it was crowded, but also because the music had gone from upbeat and slightly frantic to slow and sultry. Slow dancing meant dancing close, fully inside each other’s personal space.

  His hands traveled over her bare skin as if he couldn’t get enough of her. She certainly couldn’t get enough of him, skimming her palms from his shoulders and down his chest. He wrapped his fingers around hers and tucked her hand against his pec, swaying her from side to side.

  And pressed against him like this, she could feel his excitement. He was clearly erect. Maybe not totally hard, but hard enough for her to know his size held promise. That was one supersized bulge bumping against her hip.

  Her choice of Mr. Manhunt was looking up.

  Licking her lips, she dropped her gaze to his mouth. A force stronger than herself pulled her to him. She wanted to kiss him. Wanted to feel his lips caress and punish hers as his body did the same.

  “Do you want to get out of here?” he said, breaking her from her momentary reverie.

  She nodded, still gazing at his mouth.

  “Me too.” He took her hand and turned toward the back of the club.

  In the corner along the far wall was a hallway that led to an exit. Greyson directed her down the hall and held the door open for her as they pushed through.

  “I’m parked in the garage.” He pointed across the street, then took her hand as they hustled to the side entrance.

  He opened the door, letting her enter, then trailed inside after her.

  “Elevator.” He tugged her to the side and slapped the up button before rubbing his palm down his stubbly beard, shifting his weight side to side.

  He seemed to be in as much of a rush as she was . . . as eager to get under her skirt as she was to get him there.

  The elevator doors opened, and before she could even blink, he damn near dragged her inside, then hit the button for the third level.

  Her hand found his, and their fingers clamped around one another in a viselike grip, latching on with the kind of determination that meant only one thing. They were both committed to the same end result.

  They both breathed heavily, as if just the idea of doing what they were about to do was enough to make their bodies feel like they were already doing it.

  Katherine had never been so aroused. So excited. So insanely desperate to have sex. But Greyson had her so hot that she couldn’t think of anything else.

  The elevator began its slow upward climb.

  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He did the same to her. The heat was pouring through her. Physical heat, hormonal heat, sexual heat. She just wanted to devour him.

  His nostrils flared. “Fuck it.” He spun her, slamming her back against the wall, and claimed her mouth with the impact of a man plunging his head underwater after a week in the desert.

  Their tongues wrestled, tasting, opening, plundering. She made a needy, mewling noise as she fisted his shirt, pulling him closer.

  His hips drove forward, colliding with her lower belly, and Jesus! He was huge and hard and impressively engorged, making her moan as she instinctively opened her legs. How could she need him inside her so badly after only just meeting him? And not just need him. This feeling inside her was so much stronger than simple need. This delirious yearning was an urgent demand. An obligation. He had to fuck her. There was no other alternative.

  Breaking away, she tipped her head back, panting through parted, swollen lips, practically dry humping him right there in the elevator.

  He appeared almost stunned, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening, but he was right there with her, grinding his massive cock against her.

  She couldn’t remember ever wanting a man—and sex—so badly. The explosive chemistry between them was all-consuming. The bonus was that Greyson appeared to have a cock worthy of worship.

  Finally, the stars had smiled down on her.

  The elevator crawled to a stop, and the doors opened.

  “Come on,” he said, taking her hand.

  She wobbled forward, her knees too weak to function. Come on, damn it, move! Getting her legs under her, she charged out of the elevator behind him as he pulled her down one of the aisles of parked cars. Her heels clacked rapidly as she fought to keep up, the sound echoing off the concrete walls.

  A nearby SUV beeped twice. He yanked open the rear passenger door, but before she could climb inside, he took her arms and pinned her to the side of the SUV, staring hard—almost frantically—into her eyes.

  “Please tell me you like your men big.” He searched her face as if looking for any sign of reticence, barely bre
athing as he waited for a response.

  She bit her bottom lip, resisting the temptation to glance down at the pyramid jutting out from his groin. “How big?” Her extreme arousal made it hard to breathe.

  He snatched her hand and planted it on his crotch. “This big.”

  Whoa! It was even bigger than she’d imagined. There had to be ten inches of thick cock straining against his Armani zipper, maybe even a foot or more. She had known he was huge, but this was enormous.

  Her knees almost gave out from the gratitude rushing through her.

  But it wasn’t just the length that stole her breath. Curling her fingers around his impressive girth, she dropped her gaze and stared. She couldn’t even wrap her hand around him, and she had long fingers.

  Hallelujah!

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she murmured, massaging up and down his length, trying to gauge just how big he was. Not even Phil had been this large, and he’d sported quite a behemoth shlong.

  He started to pull away, and she looked back up to find him wearing a pained expression.

  “Too big?” He frowned, his jaw growing tight.

  What was he talking about?

  “What?” Then it dawned on her. He’d misunderstood her. He had thought his size had put her off. “No, Greyson . . . I—”

  He removed her hand and took another step back, and her heart broke at his forsaken expression.

  “It’s okay. Most women can’t . . .” He sighed and looked away as if being rejected over the size of his cock had been a constant source of frustration his whole life. When he turned back, he forced a smile and reached for her hand. “Come on, I’ll take you back to Alesca and—”

  “Oh no you don’t.” She snatched her hand from his and planted it back on his cock. “You’ll do no such thing.”

  He frowned at her, utter confusion falling over his face. “But . . .”

  “Did I say you’re too big?”

  His frown deepened, and a hint of hope lit in his eyes. “No.”

  “Did I give any indication that I don’t want this?” She rubbed her hand up and down.

  He sucked in his breath and swayed forward, throwing his arm out to catch himself against the side of the SUV before he crashed into her. His head bowed forward to watch her hand ride up and down his length through his pants, then he lifted his dazed eyes to hers. “But . . . I thought . . .”