Grant's Flame (Shark's Edge #5) - Angel Payne Page 0,63

to crack another smile. Grant huffed. “This really isn’t funny, Rio.”

“Agreed. But honestly? Your jazz hands could use some work.”

He flashed a smirk—likely the sexiest version I’d ever seen of it. “Well, I think that’s the only skill you’ve said my hands needed improvement with.”

“Hmmm.” I hummed in mock contemplation, appreciating his well-timed change of the subject. We’d definitely both reached our Shark quota for the day. “I don’t know about that, Tree. I may have to collect more data before I can be sure.” Playfully tapping my index finger to my chin, I added, “I don’t know that I’ve evaluated your full skill set yet. I mean, you’re making a mighty huge claim here, and—”

And there I went, having to toss around a descriptor like huge. Suddenly, the man was exactly that, rising from the corner seat in a move that reminded me of Godzilla’s eruption from the sea. His stare was comparable, a menacing combination of so many gorgeous greens and blues. Beyond my control, mini tsunamis chased each other throughout my bloodstream.

“My skill set, hmmm?” he murmured. “Oh, I promise you haven’t even scratched the surface, little girl.”

I gulped. He barely noticed, closing the space between us with strides that made the water slosh. “You know, you can be very intimidating when you want to be. Has anyone ever told you that? Okay, wait.” I held my hand out. “Don’t answer that. There are only so many Lacis and Stacis I can stomach hearing about.”

He grabbed my hand, using the grip to move in and then press his body completely against mine. My breath stuttered. My heartbeat careened. My skin was hot and sensitive, aware of every inch where he was hard yet slippery against me. With my free hand, I stroked up to his shoulder, hyperaware of how I was dripping all over him. How I instantly yet completely yearned to be dripping around other parts of him…

He didn’t stop pushing in.

He kept going, continuing closer and harder, until I was bent backward, over the spa’s outside edge. When my torso was all but splayed flat, he leaned down with me until he could speak right beside my ear. “What’s this? Jealousy from the formidable Rio Katrina? My, my. I didn’t think that was possible.”

He stood up tall, and I quickly followed suit, trying to push him back with my free hand so I could catch my breath. The action was pointless because he easily captured my other wrist and then held them between us, even while I tossed my head back and stabbed him with a cutting laugh.

“Are you kidding? With a bedpost that has as many notches as yours? I think a girl would have to be numb not to feel at least a twinge of the stuff.”

I yanked my arms back, trying to get free from his grip, but got nowhere. Grant tightened his hold, curling his hands in so mine ended up against the sculpted slabs of his pecs, and I could feel the air he pushed in and out of his flaring nostrils.

Instantly, anxiety clawed at my chest, but I tried to tamp it down. I knew Grant was playing around, and if I told him to stop, he would. At some point, though, I was going to have to get over this nonsense about him holding my hands or arms without flashing back to when he told me about Sean’s accident.

“A twinge, huh?” His gaze intensified, belying distinct energy. Aroused force. I swore I could even smell it on him, and I wasn’t surprised. The man had never been coy about his need to be in charge, and I’d been increasingly happy to let him try it with me. After his long and stressful dunk back into the Sebastian Shark tank, it made sense that he craved a default dive back to the waters where he controlled all the tides.

See? He was aroused. I was aroused. Everyone was having fun here.

“Yeah, just a little.” I went for a careless shrug, but I knew he wasn’t buying it, so I really poured it on. “You know…a tiny, itty-bitty bit. Not too much, though. I mean…” I pulled at his hold again, gritting my teeth in frustration when he wouldn’t budge. “I wouldn’t want your head to swell up even more.”

I couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t take it.

Not. For. One. More. Second.

“Let go,” I said through gritted teeth and made one last feeble attempt to pull my arms—my hands—hell, I didn’t even know

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