Grayson reached for a towel, wrapping it around Olivia's damp body before sweeping her up into his arms. She didn't protest—just rested her head against his chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles along his collarbone. His heart was still thudding beneath her touch.
The bedroom lights were dim, casting a soft amber hue over the crisp white bedding and sleek furniture. Floor-to-ceiling windows showed the city glowing beyond, but all Grayson could see was her.
He laid her down gently on the bed, the towel slipping loose. He stepped back just enough to take her in—still glistening from the shower, her legs slightly parted, hair fanned across the pillows, eyes half-lidded and waiting.
"I could get addicted to looking at you like this," he murmured.
Olivia gave him a look that was half challenge, half invitation. "Then what are you waiting for?"
Grayson dropped the second towel from around his hips.
He didn't rush. He crawled onto the bed slowly, like a man approaching something sacred. He kissed her ankle first, then up her calf, her thigh, and over her hipbone, eyes never leaving hers. Olivia squirmed beneath him, breath catching again as the tension reignited between her legs.
"I want to take my time now," he said, his voice low, thick with promise. "You deserve to feel every second of this."
He kissed up her stomach, then between the valley of her breasts, before taking one nipple into his mouth. He sucked slowly, letting his tongue swirl before moving to the other, teasing it with the flat of his tongue until her hips lifted in a silent plea.
"Grayson…" she whispered, her voice already breathy again.
He settled between her legs, propping himself up on his elbows. One hand slid between them, fingers parting her folds again. She was still slick, still sensitive, and when he rubbed her clit just once, her entire body jumped.
"I could do this all night," he said. "Watch your body respond to mine. Make you beg. Make you lose your voice saying my name."
His fingers slipped inside her again—two, then three, moving slowly this time. She gasped, hands fisting the sheets, thighs beginning to tremble again.
But this time, he didn't let her come.
He stopped.
With a frustrated whimper, Olivia lifted her head, eyes narrowing. "Seriously?"
Grayson smiled. "Patience, little fox."
Then he grabbed her thighs and pulled her down to the edge of the bed in one smooth motion. He stood, positioning himself at her entrance again, watching her reaction as he stroked the tip of his cock along her folds—teasing, testing, just barely slipping in.
"Tell me you want it."
She groaned. "I want it."
"Tell me who you want."
Her eyes flared with heat, lips parting.
"You, Grayson. I want you."
He thrust deep.
She cried out—sharp, desperate—as he filled her again. This time was different. His rhythm was slower, deliberate. Each stroke hit deep, his eyes locked on hers the entire time. Olivia's hands found his chest, then his shoulders, dragging him closer until he was hovering over her, their lips brushing with each thrust.
"You feel that?" he rasped. "That's mine now."
She moaned, legs wrapping around him tighter, trying to take him even deeper.
He buried his face in her neck, his breath hot against her skin. "Say it."
"It's yours," she gasped. "All of me."
That sent him over the edge.
Grayson's movements quickened, his thrusts harder now, more erratic. Olivia's nails raked down his back, and her voice—those sweet, broken moans—pushed him closer with every sound.
When she came again, it was with a cry that echoed off the windows.
He followed her, burying himself to the hilt as his orgasm tore through him, raw and intense.
Grayson's movements quickened, his thrusts harder now, more erratic. Olivia's nails raked down his back, and her voice—those sweet, broken moans—pushed him closer with every sound.
But just when he thought he was completely in control, Olivia shifted beneath him.
"Wait," she whispered, breathless, her hands sliding from his back to his shoulders.
She pushed gently.
Grayson raised an eyebrow but let her move him, curious.
In one fluid motion, Olivia rolled them over, straddling him, her thighs bracketing his hips, her palms pressed flat against his chest. Her soaked hair clung to her flushed skin, and her lips curled into a slow, wicked smile.
"My turn," she said.
Grayson's hands slid to her thighs, squeezing as he looked up at her—completely captivated. "I'm not complaining."
Olivia sank down onto him slowly, inch by inch, never breaking eye contact. The pace was hers now—controlled, confident, torturously slow. Grayson groaned beneath her, his hands tightening on her waist.
"Fuck, Liv…"
She rolled her hips in a slow circle, watching his jaw clench. Then she did it again, and again, faster now, riding him with a rhythm that drove him wild.
She leaned forward slightly, one hand still pressed to his chest, the other gliding up his arm, over his neck, then into his hair. "You like thinking you're in control, don't you?"
He couldn't form words—just a strained grunt as his hands moved to her ass, gripping, guiding, desperate for more.
But Olivia kept her pace. Taunting. Teasing. Taking exactly what she wanted from him.
"I could make you come just like this," she whispered, lowering her lips to his ear. "Make you beg for it."
Grayson's eyes snapped open, fire in them now.
"Oh, little fox…" he growled. "You shouldn't start a game you can't win."
And with that, he flipped them again.
After, he collapsed beside her, pulling her into his chest. Both of them were breathing hard, tangled in sheets and each other.
Olivia let out a gasp of surprise that melted into a moan as her back hit the mattress and he filled her in one deep thrust.
His mouth was on her neck again, one hand pinning her wrist above her head, the other gripping her thigh as he drove into her harder now, chasing that final high.
Their bodies moved together like they had a language only they understood—one of challenge, surrender, dominance, and trust.
She was just as wild beneath him as she was on top, just as demanding, just as free. It wasn't about who was in control. It was that they both were. At different moments. In different ways. And neither of them wanted it any other way.
Olivia's eyes met his as her body tensed again, her voice breaking on his name.
"Grayson—!"
That was all it needed. They united—noisy and passionate as if everything inside them was both igniting and crumbling simultaneously. A mutual descent, a mutual peak.
He kissed her once more before lying down next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist and drawing her near. They were tangled—damp hair, twisted sheets, reddened skin, aching muscles—yet Olivia's smile remained. And so did Grayson's.
"So," she murmured, still trying to catch her breath. "Do you still believe you won?"
Grayson chuckled, his thumb gently tracing the curve of her hip. "No, I think we both came out on top."
They fell silent for a few moments. Then Olivia turned her head slightly, her lips brushing against his jawline.
"So," she whispered playfully, her voice warm with a teasing edge. "Does this qualify as a second date?"
Grayson laughed, a genuine, deep, and relaxed sound. He kissed the top of her head, his hand caressing her bare back.
"No," he replied softly. "This is just the bonus round."
They lay tangled in the sheets, the glow of the city casting long shadows over the room. The air was thick with heat and the kind of silence that wasn't uncomfortable—just full. Olivia rested against Grayson's chest, her body loose and sated, her breath finally steady. His fingers traced slowly down the line of her back, then along the curve of her side, brushing the inside of her arm in long, lazy strokes. Each pass sent goosebumps rising on her skin.
Neither of them spoke.
Grayson stared up at the ceiling, then turned his gaze toward the wall of windows, where the skyline sparkled in the distance. The view was stunning—gold and silver and quiet midnight blue.
But all he could think about was her.
The morning would come soon. The real world. Reality. What then?
What did he really know about Olivia Webber?
Not enough.
And yet, he wanted to know everything. Every story. Every scar. Every thought behind those clever, teasing eyes. But the closer he moved toward her—emotionally, physically—the more she seemed to pull away. It wasn't overt. Just subtle. Measured. Like she had lines she didn't let people cross… not easily.
He'd have to leave her again soon.
This wasn't his city. Hell, it wasn't even his part of the country.
Grayson let out a quiet sigh.
Olivia stirred against him, shifting slightly as she looked up, her cheek still pressed to his chest. Her brows furrowed just enough to reveal that flicker of uncertainty. "You okay?" she asked softly. "You don't… regret doing this, do you?"
There was something in her voice—guarded. Defensive. Like she'd asked the question before and hadn't always liked the answer.
Grayson leaned down and kissed the top of her head, then wrapped an arm tighter around her.
"I regret a lot of things, little fox," he said, voice quiet but certain. "But I promise you—you will never be one of them."
Olivia smiled, a hint of blush coloring her cheeks. Her body, which had gone a little tense, softened again, sinking fully into him.
"Good," she murmured, teasing. "I'd hate to disappear after you spent so much time chasing me."
That made him laugh—low and warm. He turned his head and kissed her, slow and deep, their lips moving together with the kind of familiarity that felt dangerous.
Then he rolled them, her back sinking into the pillows as he moved on top of her again. The kiss deepened, hunger reawakening between them. Olivia's legs parted instinctively, inviting him closer.
Balancing on one forearm, Grayson slid his other hand down her body until his fingers found the sensitive nub of her clit. He tapped it once—soft, deliberate.
Olivia's breath hitched. "Grayson… I—"
Whatever protest she was forming died the moment he slipped two fingers inside her. She was already wet again. Ready. Her body didn't lie.
"I'm sure I told you this before, Ms. Webber," he whispered, brushing his lips against her ear. "Once is never enough for me. And I'm starting to realize—I can't get enough of you."
He shifted to the side, giving himself room to watch her.
God, watching her…
The way her head tipped back. Her thick chestnut hair spilled down her shoulders, clinging to her damp skin. Her back arched just right with each stroke of his fingers. Her mouth parted, soft gasps escaping as her hips moved in time with his rhythm. She was slowly unraveling again—beautiful, wild, his.
Her hands moved to her chest, fingers tweaking and twisting her nipples. He growled low in his throat, jealous of her hands. That should be his mouth there.
She looked stunning like this so in control of her own pleasure, but on the edge of letting it go.
"You know," he said, curling his fingers just right inside her, "since I won our little game… I think it's only fair you tell me everything I want to know."
He intensified his pace fast, deep strokes of his fingers, rubbing his thumb against her swollen clit in perfect rhythm.
"Say yes… Olivia."
Her eyes fluttered open, wild and hazy with pleasure. She was right there, right at the edge.
"I can't… I… commit to—ohhh…"
"Do you want to come, little fox?" he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. "I know you do. Your body reacts to me… just like mine reacts to yours."
He moved his body between her thighs again, his cock hard, thick, twitching with need. He rotated his hips, dragging the length of himself across her folds, grinding against her clit.
Olivia moaned, desperate now, her body arching to meet his.
"Grayson…" she gasped. "Fine. Okay. I will now fuck me, Grayson Steel."
He paused just long enough to see her face.
Even in her dazed, overwhelmed state… she still had that look. That spark. That defiance he couldn't get enough of.
"As you wish, my little fox," he growled.
He grabbed both her wrists, pinning them above her head with one strong hand. Then, with the other, he guided himself to her entrance and slid in with expert ease—one long, smooth stroke that had them both gasping.
She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper. And he gave her exactly what she asked for.
Everything.
Grayson buried himself to the hilt, still holding her wrists pinned above her head. Her body welcomed him like it always did—hot, tight, already pulsing around him. He swore under his breath, dragging his hips back slowly, then thrusting forward again with more force.
Olivia cried out, her back arching off the bed as her legs wrapped tighter around his waist, trying to keep him as close as possible.
"God, you feel…" he couldn't even finish the sentence—just pressed his forehead to hers and groaned. "So fucking perfect."
His hips rolled in slow, deep thrusts, dragging every inch along her inner walls, making her moan with each grind. She writhed beneath him, wild and desperate, but he held her still—controlling the rhythm, every movement measured, maddening.
"You're doing that on purpose," she breathed, her tone somewhere between accusation and praise.
Grayson smiled against her cheek. "Of course I am."
He dipped his head and flicked his tongue over her nipple before sucking it into his mouth, his hips still moving, never losing rhythm. Olivia's body bucked, the tension between her thighs building again—sharp, electric, relentless.
Her wrists strained against his grip. "Let me touch you."
Grayson didn't answer. He kissed his way up her throat, then whispered right at the shell of her ear, "Not yet."
She whimpered, her breath shallow now, her hips rocking up to meet each slow stroke. She was close again—so close—and he could feel her walls fluttering around him, her body betraying her even as she tried to hold back.
Grayson released her wrists and immediately, her fingers were everywhere—clutching his shoulders, sliding into his hair, pulling him down into another kiss that was all tongue and need.
She rolled her hips beneath him, chasing friction, chasing release.
"I want to ride you again," she whispered against his mouth, voice thick and shaky. "I want you to watch me come on top of you."
Grayson growled low in his throat, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. "You keep saying things like that, and I'm going to lose whatever patience I have left."
She smiled, but it was soft now. Less teasing. Her fingers brushed along his jaw, down his chest, as if she was trying to memorize him with her hands.
"Then don't be patient," she said, voice barely a whisper. "Just be mine. Right now."
And that wrecked him.
Grayson sat back on his heels, pulling her with him—her legs still wrapped around him, her chest flush against his as he rocked into her deeper, harder now. His hands moved to her hips, guiding her, watching the way her breasts bounced with each sharp thrust.
"You are mine," he said, almost like a vow. "You've been mine since the moment you said my name like you owned it."
Olivia moaned arms looped around his neck, holding on as he moved faster, chasing both of their highs.
The sound of skin against skin filled the room, their gasps and groans rising with each movement. She clenched around him, her climax building again—this one bigger, more intense, shaking her from the inside out.
Grayson was right there with her, sweat sliding down his back, his jaw clenched, his control unraveling.
"I'm gonna—" she started, but she couldn't finish.
He could feel it. Her entire body tightened around him as her orgasm slammed into her. Her head fell back, lips parting in a cry that sounded like surrender and something deeper.
Grayson held her through it, letting her ride the wave as he chased his own—one final, hard thrust before he came with a sharp groan, spilling into her, holding her like he never wanted to let go.
They stayed there for a few long seconds—foreheads pressed together, still tangled, still shaking.
Then he kissed her again—slow, deep, different.
And this time, she didn't tease or deflect. She kissed him back just as tenderly, one hand cupping the back of his neck, the other pressed to his chest, right over his heart.
They sank back into the pillows, breathless and quiet, their legs still tangled.
Grayson traced lazy lines along her thigh, now slick with sweat instead of water, and whispered, "Still think this was just the bonus round?"
Olivia chuckled, her voice sleepy and content. "If it is… I think we both deserve extra credit."
He smiled, pulling her closer, her head resting against his chest again. But this time… neither of them had anything to prove.
They lay wrapped around each other in the sheets, breath slowing, skin cooling, but neither of them quite ready to drift off. The quiet hum of the city beyond the windows felt distant now—like another world entirely.
Olivia shifted slightly, curling her fingers lightly into his chest. "Okay," she said softly, "I have one question before I let you fall asleep on top of me."
Grayson glanced down, a lazy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Just one?"
"For now."
He kissed the top of her head. "Alright, shoot."
She tilted her chin up, looking at him through hooded, amused eyes. "Why do you keep calling me little fox?"
Grayson grinned, that half-smirk she was quickly learning to recognize as the start of trouble—or something sweet.
"Because it fits," he said simply.
Olivia raised a brow. "That's it? You're going with it fits? Weak answer, Mr. Steel."
Grayson chuckled, shifting so he could look at her better. His hand trailed lazily over the curve of her hip, then up to her shoulder, like he was still learning the feel of her.
"Okay," he said, voice softer now. "Let me put it this way…"
He paused, eyes scanning her face like he was choosing his words carefully. "Foxes… are clever. Like truly clever. They're strategic, unpredictable, and insanely smart. They figure things out that leave others confused. They're also quick—graceful but sharp. You never know whether they're going to charm you or outwit you. Usually both."
Olivia blinked, lips parting slightly.
"And they're beautiful," he added, voice dipping lower. "Undeniably. Not just in the obvious way, but in the way they carry themselves. Regal. Wild. Untouchable unless they choose to let you close."
Grayson brushed a strand of her damp hair behind her ear, his thumb grazing her cheek.
"You, Olivia Webber, are a fox in every sense. Cunning. Beautiful. Smart as hell. Impossible to catch unless you want to be caught. And once you are… it's impossible not to be completely consumed."
Her breath caught—just for a second.
Then she shook her head with a smile and buried her face in his chest. "Okay, fine… that was a much better answer."
"Told you."
She chuckled, her voice muffled. "You've clearly thought about this way too much."
"I have," he said without hesitation, his hand trailing lazily up and down her spine again. "I've thought about you way too much."
Her fingers flexed lightly against his chest, and for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their shared breathing and the quiet rhythm of the city outside.
"Little fox," she whispered, testing it in her own voice now.
"I like the way you say it," he murmured.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I like the way you say everything."
She smirked against his skin. "If you keep talking like that, we're never going to get to sleep."
Grayson let out a low laugh. "And that would be a shame. I'm sure you're exhausted… running circles around me all day."
"I am exhausted," she sighed dramatically. "Being this irresistible takes effort."
He laughed again, pulling her tighter against him. "I should warn you now—I'm not letting you slip away again in the morning."
Olivia just smiled into his chest and whispered, "I guess I'll have to be extra sly then."
"Don't bother," he murmured, already slipping closer to sleep. "I'm not done chasing you."
Grayson could feel her breathing shift—deeper now, more rhythmic. Sleep was pulling her under, and for the first time all night, she wasn't saying anything. She didn't need to. Her body was curled tightly into his, legs tangled with his, her skin warm against every inch of him.
He kept his eyes on the ceiling, listening to the quiet, and let the thoughts take him.
He knew this about himself: he was insatiable.
Especially when it came to sex.
Usually, once he'd been with someone, that need—the obsession—faded fast. There were women who served a purpose. Who wanted what he wanted. Clean, physical, no lines crossed. They knew the rules. So did he.
But Olivia? Olivia wasn't just awakening something in him.
She was pushing a beast out of him. She wasn't about filling a need.
She was the need.
Grayson exhaled slowly, brushing his hand along the curve of her bare hip. The real question lodged in his chest, one he hadn't dared say out loud, not even to himself until now:
Would she chase him?
Because he already knew he'd chase her again. Over and over if she let him.
He didn't know the rules of this game. Didn't recognize the pieces she was moving across the board. But he was playing. And he couldn't walk away now.
Not from her.
"It hasn't stopped me before," he thought with a grin, yawning as the exhaustion finally settled deep into his bones.
He shifted slightly, pulling her closer into his body. She responded instinctively, curling tighter into him with a soft, sleepy sigh.
"Little fox," he whispered near her ear, his voice low and careful. "You still up?"
"Mmm," she hummed, eyes still closed. "Sure… I'm up."
He smiled and leaned in again, this time pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "Are you gonna be here when I wake up?"
She mumbled into his chest, her voice so quiet and teasing it nearly blended with her breathing. "Mmm… sure, Mr. Steel. I'll be here."
Grayson chuckled, letting out a heavy, satisfied breath.
Olivia, still with her eyes gently closed, mumbled sleepily, "Now go to sleep before I get up and disappear just to find some sleep." Her voice was a soft, dreamy whisper, like a lullaby in the quiet night. He tightened his embrace around her, nestling his face into her hair's fragrant, damp strands, which carried the scent of fresh rain.
"Alright, little fox… rest for now. But I can't promise how much sleep I'll let you keep having," he whispered with a playful tenderness.
She didn't respond verbally, but her lips curled into a gentle, sleepy smile against his skin, the warmth of her breath like a soothing balm. She didn't pull away; instead, she settled closer, her body perfectly molded to his, her breathing a rhythmic harmony with his own. Feeling comfort and closeness, Grayson finally let go of the lingering tension. This time, he allowed sleep to claim him swiftly, like a soft blanket enveloping him in its embrace. He knew that when morning light seeped through the curtains, she would still be there, her presence as constant and reassuring as the sunrise.