That got his attention. He walked into the bathroom.

“Turn around,” he said.

She did, facing the mirror.

“Pretty dress.”

Her gaze met his in the mirror, her lips turning up into a smile. “Thanks.”

He drew the zipper down, his knuckles brushing bare flesh. He couldn’t resist as he bared the skin of her back, so he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“Do we have time for this?” she asked.

He gently pressed on her back, bending her forward. “Absolutely not.”

Moving into her, he was already hard when his crotch met her butt, rubbing his body against hers. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel her, the heat of her, breathing in the scent she gave off.

It was heady, and he wanted her.

“If you’re going to fuck me, you should unzip, and I should get out of this underwear.”

He opened his eyes, saw the passion reflected in hers, and dropped down on his haunches, reaching under her dress. He found her panties and pulled them down.

“I wish I had time to eat you, make you come,” he said, lifting her dress and pressing a kiss to her hip bone.

She let out a breath. “I do, too.”

He stood, opened the center drawer and took out a condom from the box there. “I’ll make you come another way. With my fingers, when I’m inside you, fucking you deep.”

“Grant.”

His name floated from her lips like a sexy whisper. He unzipped his pants, put the condom on, then lifted her dress over her butt. Damn, she had a pretty ass. He took a minute to let his hands roam over her, slid his fingers between her legs.

“You’re wet,” he said.

“I’m ready for you. Just you talking to me, touching me … I’m ready.”

He pulled the straps of her dress down over her shoulders, taking her bra with it, baring her breasts. He cupped a handful of her, rolling her nipple between his fingers as he slid into her pussy.

“Oh,” she said, pushing against him as he thrust.

He let his hand roam down, palming her sex, rubbing her clit as he drove into her again and again.

“Yes, there,” she said, giving him momentum.

He’d been consumed by her since that kiss downstairs. Looking at her, breathing her in—she made him want her in ways that were inexplicable to him.

She tightened around him, gripping him, making this pleasure unbearable. He needed to come in her, but first, she was going to come.

He played with her clit, listening to the sounds she made as he moved within her. He was learning her body, finding out what hit her hot buttons. She liked him to move his hand fast and easy against her, and as she clenched around him in orgasm, he shoved deep in her and let go, shuddering as he came, feeling her body unravel around him in deep, rhythmic waves.

He was sweating against her back, out of breath and had never felt anything so good.

She lifted up and leaned against him. “I’m going to need a quick shower now.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They both jumped in the shower and did a quick rinse off. He got dressed, then got out of Katrina’s way and headed downstairs.

“What is she doing up there?” Anya asked. “It usually takes me twice as long as her to get ready.”

Grant just shrugged. “No idea. I think she might have changed her mind about what she was wearing. Or … wait. I think she said something about hopping in the shower.”

Anya rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

She went back to scrolling through her phone, so he figured they had managed to skate by without the kids figuring out what had happened upstairs. Or maybe the kids were smarter than he gave them credit for and they simply didn’t care.

Either way, Katrina came downstairs a short time later, looking gorgeous in her new black capri pants that hugged her curves. She wore a hot pink tank and tennis shoes and looked absolutely edible.

How could a woman dressed so casually look so damn sexy? He wanted to undress her and lick every inch of her.

He filed that thought away for later.

They drove to the ballpark and made their way to the ticket window, where, thanks to his brother, tickets were waiting. He’d texted Tucker yesterday after he’d gotten the idea to take Katrina and the kids to the ball game.

That had been a fun conversation.

I need four tickets to tomorrow night’s game.

Tucker had texted him back with: Asshole. Next time give me more notice when you want four seats. You’ll be lucky if I can get you bleachers. We’re popular, ya know.

Grant had texted back with: But you can get me box seats anyway, right?