The walls were the color of his shirt, a dark blue/gray. The furniture was heavy, masculine, dark wood, all angles, squares, rectangles with no-nonsense manly etching in the drawers and cabinets.

The house was tidy and clean, although full of stuff.

His room wasn’t tidy and clean or full of stuff. No trophies he won playing sports as a youngster, ribbons displayed. Over the bed there was a huge black and white photo of the Colorado Mountains that I knew was taken by Cotton, a famous photographer who lived in said mountains. There were jeans, boots, long-sleeved tees and flannel shirts in tangles on the floor. Books on the nightstands, so many of them, they overflowed to the floor. There was change in a small bowl on one of his dressers. Sturdy, manly matching lamps on the nightstands and another one on the low bureau.

And that was it. No other decorative touches. Nothing.

And the bed was huge.

Huge.

Squared off head and footboard with slats, dark gray cover covering a down comforter, dark blue sheets. There were six pillows, six in disarray at the head of the unmade bed.

“Boots off, darlin’,” Gray muttered, my body jolted and my eyes flew to him to see him pulling at the knot in his tie.

“Wha… what?”

“Boots…” his eyes locked on mine and the fever in them corresponded in heat flooding my body, “off.”

Oh…

My.

I dropped my head, lifted my foot and pulled off my boot. Then I did the same with the other.

I’d just straightened when Gray was in my space and moving, rounding me close, herding me as he unwrapped the scarf from around my neck and tossed it aside.

My stomach dropped again, my heart started thumping again and heat gathered between my legs.

He moved forward, shuffling me back, hands to my jeans jacket, he pulled it over my shoulders, down my arms and then it was gone.

My mouth went dry.

Then one of his arms wrapped tight around me, the fingers of his other hand drove into my hair, cupping my head, he tilted it, his slanted the other way and his mouth crushed down on mine.

His tongue was sliding in my mouth as I fell backwards, my arms automatically wrapped around him and he landed on top of me in his bed.

Oh yes, it was oh my.

My breath went out of me taking his weight but he rolled instantly so I was on top even as he continued kissing me.

I didn’t care about my breath being gone. I was used to being breathless. Gray kissed me to that state all the time.

Then his hand left my head, both went into my sweater, up, my arms were forced up, my head jerked back and whoosh! It was gone.

I no sooner processed this fact before I was on my back again, Gray’s mouth on mine but his torso was angled away from me because his hands were on the buttons of his shirt.

I got lost in his kiss before he arched his back completely, whispering, “Help me out, dollface, I want to feel you skin against skin.”

Oh yes. I wanted that too.

But more, I wanted to see his chest again.

With shaking hands I started helping him undo the buttons on his shirt then they were undone. He tore it over his shoulders, down his arms and it was gone.

My eyes had a nanosecond to drink him in.

Just as I remembered. Fantastic

Then his mouth was back to mine, his tongue in my mouth, his warm, hard chest crushing my breasts, his hands on me, my hands on him and he felt so good, every inch, every centimeter.

His hands slid around my back, I felt the fingers of one at my bra then it was loose then he lifted up and it was gone.

Over the last week, Gray hadn’t avoided my breasts. When we were making out on his couch, he’d cupped one over the bra, his thumb gliding across my nipple and that was fabulous. And yesterday, in the haystack, his hands under my clothes, he paid them a considerable amount of attention.

But he’d never seen them.

Suddenly, uncertainty slithered in as he again arched his back, his eyes gliding down my body and he took me in.

It hit me then this was going fast. Really fast.

And I was a virgin.

I needed to slow things down.

“Gray –” I whispered, his eyes went from my body to mine and I clamped my mouth shut at the look in them.

It was blistering. It was appreciative. And it was carnal.

I was again breathless.

“Prettiest thing I’ve ever fuckin’ seen,” he whispered then he came back to me but did it by twisting his torso even as his hand slid up my ribs to cup the bottom of my breast, lift it and then his mouth was there and he drew my nipple sharply between his lips.

Heat shafted through me, my back left the bed and both my hands slid into his hair as I whimpered.

And that was it, I was lost. It was all mouths and tongues, licking, sucking, biting, hands roaming, nails scraping. I heard the zip go down on my skirt then it was gone then my tights with my panties. Then I heard the zip on Gray’s trousers and suddenly he was naked. I didn’t see it, I was too busy running my tongue up his neck, one of my hands gliding along the skin of his back, the other one over the skin over the defined muscles at his stomach. I heard his swift intake of breath as they trailed and then he adjusted. Jerking me with him until I was on my back, Gray’s weight on me, his hips were rolling. My legs opened automatically, his fell between, his hands raced up the back of my thighs, hooking the back of my knees, yanking them up and he drove inside.

My back arched and I cried out, not in pleasure, in pain as that surprising sensation seared through me.

Gray’s body went statue-still for a moment, still buried inside me then just his head came up.

My neck righted and my eyes opened as his hand framed one side of my face.

“Jesus, Ivey,” he whispered.

“I kinda…” I hesitated, “got excited and forgot to uh…” I paused again, “mention I was a virgin.”

“How the fuck did that happen?” he asked.

What a bizarre question.

“Um… when you don’t have sex?” I answered in a question.

He stared at me then his face got that near to tender look but he did it one better because he got that look even as his eyes warmed in a way I hadn’t seen before (and Gray’s eyes were almost always warm). In a way that made my body warm all over, his lips tipped up in a grin and his dimple popped out.

Sensational.

“Yeah, my beautiful Ivey, but how the fuck does a girl like you reach the age of twenty-two and not have sex?”

My belly dropped again but this time not in a good way.

“Like me as in a pool hustler?” I whispered and his thumb immediately slid out to stroke my cheek as his face got closer, his grin disappeared but the tender took over his expression.

“No, dollface, like you like the most beautiful girl to hit Mustang, fuck, maybe the entire state of Colorado in a century. Like that kind of girl.”

My belly didn’t drop with that. It flipped.

“In my life, I haven’t made a lot of connections,” I told him softly and the grin can back.

“You’re connected now, baby.”

I was. I definitely was. In a lot of ways.

All of them good.

I returned his grin.

His hand left my face, slid down my shoulder, arm, in between us and down.

“Wrap your legs around my hips, Ivey. I’m gonna take care of you so you can take me,” he ordered gently, my whole body trembled and his grin turned into a smile.

“My girl likes that,” he whispered.

“Yes,” I whispered back.

His thumb hit the spot, pressed in and rolled.

My eyes closed and my neck slightly arched.

“And my girl likes that,” he growled.

“Yes,” I breathed.

He kept pressing and rolling, I held on tight. He kept doing it, I held on tighter, lifted my face and shoved it in his neck. He kept doing it and started moving inside me slowly.

Oh yes.

That felt really good.

My head turned and I gasped in his ear, “Gray.”

He stopped.

My limbs clutched him and I gasped again, “Don’t stop!”

He kept going.

And going, thumb swirling.

Oh yes.

Yes.

“Gray,” I breathed in his ear.

“Right here, Ivey,” he whispered in mine.

Right there, as right there as he could be.

Instinctively, I lifted my hips, rocking them up with each of his strokes.

When I did this, Gray groaned, his strokes went deeper then they started going faster, harder, his finger pressing and rolling.

Yes.

More, faster, harder, deeper, I held on tight.

Yes. That felt really, really good.

“Gray,” I gasped.

“Right here, baby.”

“Oh my God,” I breathed then there it was.

My head flew back into the pillows, my fingers plunged into his hair and fisted, I cried out then moaned loud then just felt it, lips parted, no breath, experiencing the beauty as it washed over me.

Better than in the haystack.

Better than anything in the world.

The best.

When my body relaxed under him, his thumb left me and his hand pulled one of my arms from around him. His fingers lacing through mine, he lifted our hands and pressed them in the pillow beside my head. Lifting up on his other forearm that he was bracing his weight on in the bed, that hand slid up and his fingers tangled in my hair as his head came up, his eyes locking on mine and he kept thrusting.

I kept rocking my hips and taking him, digging my heels into him to do it, watching him moving inside me and he was so beautiful, it was arguably better than what he’d just given me.