Inside Out by Grayson Cole Page A

her beer, then, spying his on the counter behind her, finished that one, too. He grinned slyly. “What are you afraid of, Trace? I’m not gonna hurt you.”
    â€œYou sound like a pedophile. ‘Come on in, little girl. I’ve got some candy.’ ” He laughed again—she was glad to know she was amusing him—but Tracey was a little terrified. “I mean, do you really want to do this?”
    He pressed the whole length of his body against hers. “Can’t you tell?”
    â€œNo, that’s not what I mean, I mean, you know what I mean…I mean this is not… You’ve got a girlfriend.”
    â€œCome on, Tracey. Kim is sleeping with Charles, for one thing, and I don’t even care. And why is that? Because I don’t want her. To be honest, I haven’t wanted anybody but you for God knows how long, and I know you want me.”
    â€œI don’t,” she lied. He responded by licking a moist line from her collarbone to her throat up all the way to her chin and over her lips. Tracey felt like she was having a heart attack. There was no other explanation…well, maybe a stroke. A chill ran right up her spine, she could barely stand, and her breath was ragged. Something had to give. She tried to ignore him, just not respond. Maybe then he would leave her alone. No such luck. His hand tangled in her hair and he kissed her again, making her altogether dizzy.
    This time, she had the strength to pull away. “Listen.” He started in on her neck. Her neck was her weak spot and he seemed to know it. “What’ll we say?”
    â€œNothing, it’s our business.” He did not let up on her neck and she found herself squirming. Tracey was not being very assertive. She didn’t want to be assertive. She wanted everything he wanted. She wanted to be a consenting adult. “Don’t make me stop,” he murmured, “please don’t.”
    Tracey didn’t answer him. She just led him by the hand out of the kitchen and into her bedroom. Inside, she turned and slipped his shirt over his head. Garrett didn’t hesitate to put his arms up and allow her. When she dropped it to the floor, her lips pressed to the chest she had wanted to touch ever since she’d first seen him without a shirt. Her fingers caressed the hard muscles lined up and down his stomach, and electricity seemed to leap from them into her hands as she felt them contract involuntarily at her touch. And those arms, those beautiful arms. Tracey slowly sank her teeth into the firm flesh, running her tongue over the skin trapped between them. She crawled over him as he lay back on her bed. Then she slipped his pants down his long, pretty legs. She decided that they were actually more like soccer legs than tennis legs, either one just as appealing. She slid back up towards him, letting her hands explore the silky down covering him. She stopped midway and gave him a delicate lick.
    He groaned and his hips flexed.
    She slithered up his body and kissed him softly, tentatively. Without hesitation, his lips responded to hers and his hands clasped her face to his. Again, fear roiled hotly in her stomach. He rolled on top of her, and there was nothing tentative about it.
    Slowly he started to undo her shirt, and that’s when she started talking, “I cannot believe we’re doing this. I don’t even—”
    â€œQuiet, Tracey,” he grated and slipped the shirt off her shoulders. He unbuttoned her pants and pulled the zipper down. “Lift up,” he said in a sort of doctorly tone. She closed her eyes. He pulled her jeans and panties down. Then he ran his hands reverently over her legs.
    â€œYou have gorgeous legs, baby. You should wear skirts every day.”
    He slipped up her body, kissing her belly, then the skin above the line of her bra while he pressed his thumb into her heat. “Scratch that. Your whole body is so sexy, you should stay