Grayson stepped out of the elevator just in time to see her.
Olivia stood in the hallway, arms crossed, leaning casually against the wall like she had all the time in the world. Her silk dress shimmered softly under the hallway lights—pale mauve, clinging in all the right places. The cowl neckline dipped just enough to tease, the thin straps resting delicately on her shoulders. It was elegance wrapped in temptation.
Her chestnut hair framed her face in soft waves, lips curved into something between amusement and challenge. "Took you long enough," she said, voice smooth and low.
The elevator doors were nearly shut behind him, but Grayson's hand shot out, stopping them. He stepped forward, directly into her space. Olivia didn't move. Her arms remained lazily crossed, that knowing smile still playing on her mouth. She looked up at him through thick lashes, arching her neck slightly to meet his eyes.
God, she was stunning.
Grayson towered over her, his wrinkled suit jacket rumpled from the long day, but her eyes didn't stray from his. She finally uncrossed her arms and placed her hands gently on his chest, the tips of her fingers brushing the soft cotton of his shirt beneath the jacket. It wasn't a barrier—not really. If anything, it was a dare.
He still hadn't said a word. Just smirked. Then he kissed her.
There was no prelude. Just fire. Heat. All the tension and almost-touches that had simmered between them all day boiled over into that one kiss. He pushed her against the wall, mouth crashing against hers, desperate and hungry. One of his hands cradled the back of her head while the other slid down her side, mapping every curve, every line.
Olivia responded instantly, her hands wrapping around his back as if trying to pull him closer—like maybe she was trying to fuse them together. Their mouths moved in sync, their tongues tangling, her breath catching as he groaned softly into her mouth.
Grayson's mind was racing, but his body had already decided this wouldn't stop here.
He broke the kiss with one final, lingering squeeze at her waist, pulling back just enough to gaze into her eyes. Her lips were kiss-swollen, flushed to a deep shade of rose, and her breath came in ragged, uneven gasps. Yet, her eyes blazed with the same intense need that churned within him. In one swift, seamless motion, he scooped her up with a surge of strength and tossed her effortlessly over his shoulder, her laughter mingling with the rustle of their movements.
Olivia let out a breathless laugh, her voice high with surprise. "I can walk, you know."
He didn't answer. Didn't need to. Grayson reached his suite door, swiped his key, and kicked the door shut behind them as it began to swing back. Without missing a step, he carried her straight through the suite's elegant sitting area and into the bathroom.
The St. Regis bathroom was a sanctuary of marble and gold. Cream-colored stone gleamed beneath soft lighting. A soaking tub sat beneath a window that framed the city skyline, but the oversized walk-in shower caught his eye—rainfall showerhead, glass walls, steam-ready.
He set Olivia gently on the long marble counter, her legs dangling, dress hiked slightly up her thighs. She raised one perfectly arched eyebrow at him, lips still curved in that ever-teasing smirk.
Grayson turned, walked to the bathroom door, and shut it with a soft click. Then locked it.
He moved back toward her, slowly. Purposefully. Reaching out, he turned the shower on—hot, steady, steam already beginning to rise.
Then he looked at her, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that seemed to bridge the space between them. She was still watching him, her eyes holding a knowing glint as if she could already predict the events about to unfold. Grayson walked back over to her with deliberate steps, his eyes raking down her body with a focus so intense it felt like a physical caress, making Olivia's breath catch in her throat.
Grayson finally spoke; his voice was low and rich, resonating in the space between them like a deep, velvet melody. "I have to admit, Ms. Webber… you are full of surprises." He kissed the side of her neck, slow and deliberate.
Olivia tilted her head just enough to allow him more access, her voice playful. "Is this why you've locked me in your bathroom?"
"Oh no," he murmured, his lips brushing against her skin. "That's not the reason at all… my sly little fox."
His hand moved with intention, sliding one delicate strap off her shoulder. His mouth followed the path, lips grazing her newly exposed skin. She shivered beneath his touch, the fine hairs on her arms rising with goosebumps.
Her breathing hitched slightly at his next words.
"Because someone had me running all over this damn city today…" His voice was rougher now, more pointed, even as he dropped to his knees before her. "…and I need to take a shower."
As he spoke, her dress slipped lower, pooling around her waist. Before she could respond, his mouth closed over her breast, hot and possessive. One hand cradled her back while the other thumbed her nipple, teasing it until it stiffened under his touch.
"Ah… you… said…" Olivia struggled to speak, her voice thinner, breathier. "…you were back in New York—mmm—just today."
Grayson bit down gently, just enough to make her gasp, then released and sucked softly, smoothing the sting with heat. Olivia's head fell back against the mirror with a dull thud, her body arching into him.
He shifted to her other breast, giving it the same focused attention—alternating between slow and fast without any predictable pattern, just pure intensity. Then, without warning, he paused. Grayson rose, allowing his fingers to glide over her skin as he moved away.
"How could I leave," he said, smile curling, "when there was so much at stake? You called on a great bet, Olivia. I rose to the challenge."
He shrugged off his wrinkled suit jacket, tossing it to the side. His shoes followed next with a dull thud. The air between them buzzed with tension.
"Yes, it seems you did," Olivia said, her tone velvety, almost taunting. "You found me, didn't you?" She leaned forward slightly, her eyes locked on his. "What shall you do with me now?"
Grayson took her in—the confidence, the tilt of her chin, the way she sat there on that marble counter: half-dressed, her breasts still bare, nipples still hard from his mouth… and probably the cool air. She was aware of the game they were playing. Hell, she was leading it.
"Technically…" he said, slowly, "you were waiting for me. Is that really winning?"
Olivia shrugged that wicked grin curling her lips. "Semantics."
She tilted her head. "Did you… or did you not find me?"
He didn't respond. Just watched her as she stood, and the dress that had been gathered at her waist slipped effortlessly to the floor like it was made to be removed.
Grayson's eyes tracked every movement—the soft rustle of silk, the smooth glide of fabric against skin. It fell in slow motion, pooling around her feet. Her heels came off with ease, and without them, she looked small and delicate.
This wasn't the first time he'd seen her body. He'd touched it, tasted it—just last night. But this… this was different. There was no soft starlight casting shadows. No ambient city lights painting her skin with a golden sheen.
This was fluorescent, white-hot clarity. Her beauty stood unfiltered, undeniable. She walked toward him, each step slow and intentional. Her hips swayed slightly, her expression unreadable but charged.
Then she stopped in front of him, standing completely bare, unapologetically bold.
"Grayson…" she said, her voice softer now but still laced with mischief. "Are you going to shower?"
Grayson didn't answer right away.
He just looked at her really looked at her. Water was already misting up the glass of the shower behind them, steam curling along the edges like a whisper, fogging the mirror over the sink.
Her skin was flushed, glowing, but it wasn't just the heat of the room—it was him. It was them.
He stepped forward, closing the already small distance between them, and ran the back of his fingers along her jaw, down her neck, over her collarbone.
"I'm going to do a lot more than shower," he finally said, voice low and unhurried. "But yes… starting there seems like a good idea."
He reached past her and opened the glass door. The steam poured out around them in a wave, warm and wet and inviting. Without taking his eyes off Olivia, he reached down and unbuttoned his shirt one button at a time. She stood still, watching him, her breathing slow and even—but her eyes gave her away. They were dark, hungry.
He let the shirt fall to the floor.
Then came his belt. The soft clink of metal echoed lightly against the tile as he undid it. His pants joined the shirt a second later, and when he stepped out of his briefs, Olivia didn't look away.
Grayson held out a hand, and she took it.
He led her inside, the hot spray cascading over both of them as soon as the door closed behind them. The water hit his back first, then hers, soaking them in heat. Her hair turned darker instantly, curling slightly as it clung to her shoulders. Droplets raced down her body, sliding over the curve of her hips, her waist, her thighs.
Grayson didn't move at first. He just watched.
He stepped forward and pressed her gently against the warm tile, his body covering hers. The kiss was slower this time, but no less intense like he was savoring her, now that he had her fully. His hands moved with a kind of reverence, and he kissed her. Deep. Possessive. His hands gripped her waist, pressing her back against the warm marble tile. The water streamed down his back and over hers, filling the space between them with steam and heat, and need.
Olivia's hands roamed over his shoulders, down his chest, her nails lightly dragging across his skin. He hissed at the contact, then kissed her harder.
He reached behind her, grabbed the bottle of body wash, and poured some into his hand. The scent of sandalwood and vanilla bloomed around them. He worked it into a lather, rubbing it over her shoulders, down her arms, around her back—massaging, teasing, exploring.
"I feel like this might be more for me than you," she said, her voice breathless, teasing as she looked up at him, water streaming over her face.
Grayson smirked. "I have to make sure you're clean first."
He leaned in, tongue sliding along the hollow of her throat, tasting water and skin. "Everywhere."
His soapy hands trailed between her thighs, gentle but firm, making her gasp and clutch at his shoulders. Her head fell forward, forehead resting against his. Their breaths mingled, warm and rapid.
Olivia gasped—sharp, sudden—when he cupped her mound. His fingers moved slowly at first, just grazing over her folds, then finding her clit and pressing with deliberate pressure.
He circled, teased, then squeezed the sensitive nub between two fingers, drawing a breathy moan from her lips.
"Grayson—"
He cut her off with a kiss, but his hand didn't stop. He slipped one thick finger inside her, easing past the slick folds with practiced ease. Her body clenched immediately, hips tilting toward him, needing more. He gave it to her—another finger, sliding in beside the first, curling just right.
He pumped harder. Faster. His thumb returned to her clit, rubbing and pressing in alternating rhythms that made Olivia gasp, then moan, then fall apart just a little more with each stroke.
Her head fell back, eyes fluttering shut. She was close. She could feel the coil tightening low in her belly, her breath coming in shallow waves.
And then his lips brushed her ear.
"Not yet, little fox," he whispered, voice dark and smooth as smoke.
"Grayson…"
She could barely get his name out.
But he was already dropping to his knees.
The steam wrapped around his body as he hiked one of her legs over his shoulder and settled in between her thighs like he'd been waiting all day to worship her.
His hand slid up to her stomach, steadying her as she swayed. Then he looked up—wet curls plastered to his forehead, eyes heavy-lidded and filled with pure hunger.
"Winners always get their prizes," he said, and then he devoured her.
His tongue parted her folds with purpose, slow, strong strokes that made her cry out, the sound echoing off the tile. He sucked her clit suddenly, without warning, sending a jolt through her body that had her nearly slipping.
Grayson's grip tightened. One hand held her hip while the other slid back inside her—those same thick fingers stroking in time with his tongue.
His mouth, his hand, his rhythm—everything about him was relentless. Calculated. Expert.
Olivia's knees buckled.
Her fingers tangled in his damp hair, pulling tightly as her body began to tremble. He groaned into her, the vibration making her entire body shudder.
"Grayson…" she whispered again, her voice cracking.
He moved lower, licking deep, then back up to suck again. He paused just long enough to look up and growl, "Come for me, little fox."
Olivia came, and she did Hard.
The orgasm hit like a wave crashing into shore—violent, breathtaking, impossible to hold back. Her body shook around his mouth and his fingers, her moans echoing off the walls as she came undone, melting against the tile.
Grayson didn't move until he'd licked up every drop of her release, his tongue slow and possessive, like she belonged to him, and in that moment, he knew she did.
She could barely stand. Her strength was gone, wrung out from the inside. Grayson rose to his feet, water still cascading down them both. He looked down at her, eyes burning with a different kind of need now.
"Oh, we're not done yet."
He picked her up, her leg still trembling against his hand.
Grayson lifted her like she weighed nothing, his hands gripping the underside of her thighs as he pressed her back against the shower wall again. The tile was slick, warm from the constant rush of water, but her skin was hotter.
Olivia clung to him, her arms wrapping around his neck, still catching her breath, body weak but craving more.
"You didn't think I was going to stop there, did you?" he said, voice low, his mouth brushing the curve of her jaw.
She gave a breathless laugh that sly grin still flickering despite the pleasure that had just wrecked her. "No, Mr. Seel. I was hoping you wouldn't."
That was all Grayson needed; he shifted her higher, one arm bracing her, the other guiding himself to her entrance. The moment he pushed into her slow, thick, deep, Olivia gasped again, eyes fluttering closed as her head fell back against the wall.
He groaned against her neck, teeth scraping lightly against her skin as he bottomed out inside her.
"Fuck, Liv…" The way she clenched around him was torture.
He gave her only a moment, barely enough time to adjust before he began to move. Long, hard strokes that rocked her against the wall with every thrust. The sound of water hitting their skin mixed with the wet slap of bodies colliding, echoing through the marble bathroom.
Olivia's fingers dug into his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as he slammed into her again. And again. Her moans turned into whimpers, then sharp cries—his name, broken in half on her tongue.
"Grayson… oh my—"
He silenced her with his mouth, capturing her cries with another punishing kiss, tongues tangling, lips bruising. His hands gripped her tighter, holding her like he couldn't get close enough.
"You feel so fucking good," he breathed against her mouth. "Like you were made for this. Made for me."
Olivia could only nod in agreement, her breath coming in soft moans mingling with the rhythmic water pattern cascading from the showerhead. The droplets created a gentle symphony as they splashed against the tiled floor, harmonizing with the subtle thud of their bodies pressing against the cool, slick surface of the shower wall.
She was too far gone, pleasure building again, too fast, too intense. The pressure in her core had barely settled from the first orgasm, but he was dragging her toward another without pause.
Her body trembled, muscles tightening.
"Grayson—I can't—I—"
"Yes, you can," he growled. "One more. Just for me."
His hand slid between their bodies, fingers expertly seeking out the sensitive nub of her clit once more. With a deftness born of intimate familiarity, he traced tight, deliberate circles in perfect sync with the rhythm of his thrusts.
The intense sensation caused her to cry out again, her head dropping forward to rest heavily against his chest. Her body trembled uncontrollably, every nerve ending sparking to life. Mere seconds later, the crescendo of sensation overwhelmed her, and she shattered completely, lost in the exquisite release.
Olivia's scream was raw, uncontrolled, as her orgasm tore through her like lightning. Her whole body convulsed in his arms, clenching around him so hard it dragged a deep, broken moan from his throat.
Grayson followed her over the edge a moment later his hips stuttering, arms locking around her as he came hard, holding her tight through it.
Their bodies stayed tangled together, water still pouring over them, their foreheads resting against each other as their breathing slowed.
Grayson finally pulled back just enough to look at her—wet strands of her hair clinging to her cheeks, lips swollen, eyes glassy and soft.
"Damn," he muttered. "You really are full of surprises."
Olivia gave him a lazy, satisfied smile, her voice a husky whisper. "Told you."
He kissed her again, slower this time, lips lingering like they weren't in a rush.
Then he gently set her down, keeping a hand on her waist to steady her as her legs wobbled beneath her.
"Come on," he said, brushing wet hair from her face. "Let's get you dry. I'm not done touching you yet… but we're switching locations."
Olivia raised an eyebrow, amused. "The bedroom?"
Grayson grinned. "You read my mind."