Finding Gray: A Colloway Brothers Prequel (.5) (The Colloway Brothers Book 1) Read Free Page A

right below my ear. The one that makes me tingle everywhere and want to strip down to my bra and panties.
    “That… god ,” I mutter, trying to catch a thought when I feel the bulge between us jump. “That sounds interesting.”
    “Oh, it is.” He pulls back, then. His chest is heaving rapidly and those delectable lips of his, now turned up into a smirk, look fuller and so tempting. So damn tempting.
    It’s testing my resolve.
    Caging my desire, I ask, “How do you play?” I run a finger along his scruff, hoping beyond hope it’s a dirty game, but at the same time not, because a single dirty word may tip me a direction I’m not ready to tip yet.
    “Really? Never played before?”
    “Can’t say that I have. We didn’t play a lot of games growing up.”
    “Well this one’s easy. Black or white?” He looks to what I’m wearing. A white top over black leggings.
    “Hmm…both?”
    “No, babe.” He chuckles. “Have to pick one.”
    I pretend to pout. “Fine. White.”
    “Gotta say, I thought you’d go black.” When he winks I let my hands fall from his hair to his shoulders. I’m treading on thin ice here, my need for him ratcheting my body up to the point it’s quickly cracking beneath my feet. “Your turn.” His ridiculously smirky grin tells me he’s very much aware of what he’s doing to me, too.
    “So, I just ask a question?”
    “Yep.”
    “Any question?”
    “Yes. Any question.”
    “Okay.” I start with a benign one. “Football or basketball?”
    “That’s easy. Football. My turn.” His voice drops an octave or two. That should have been my first clue this little game was about to take a quick left turn, but his thumb had somehow found its way underneath the hem of my blouse and was drawing this intricate pattern on my hipbone. It was spellbinding. It was stealing my breath, and my concentration. When I have to ask him to repeat the question his eyes gleam. Bastard.
    “Hard or soft?”
    Oh, fuck. It’s suddenly hotter in here than freshly laid blacktop. I pluck at my top to move some air before answering, “Well, that depends.”
    “I told you that’s not how the game is played, angel,” he chastises playfully.
    He’s making me squirm and he’s enjoying it. Well, two can play at that.
    “It’s not a straightforward answer.” I let my own voice drop low and sultry. “If it’s, say, a mattress we’re talking about, then I like mine on the softer side. But if we’re referring to just about any body part on a man, for example, then the harder, the better.” I squeeze his bicep when I say this, but we both know I’m talking about an entirely different body part.
    His smile drops. His hazels darken to the color of swamp water. And I hear the sound of victory rushing through my veins when I notice the rise and fall of his chest has increased significantly.
    God almighty. This man.
    I move to sit, needing some space before my knees find the floor and I start unbuckling his belt, but his grip strengthens as he croaks, “Stay. I like you here, between my legs.”
    I laugh. We both know that was as ripe with innuendo as my answer, so I throw him a curveball. “Really? Because I think I’d like you between my legs, too.”
    I play that scene out, unable to get it to stop. Gray kneeling before me. His fingers spreading me. His hot mouth latching onto my—
    He must have the same vivid image I do, because I hear him mutter, “Fuck the game” a second before his mouth crashes to mine.
    Then we’re a flurry of pent up need. His hands are everywhere. On my face. Running down my neck. My arms. Pushing up my shirt. Cupping my breasts. Thumbing my nipples. Working the cups of my bra down right before he’s sucking me, biting me and I’m crying out softly for more.
    Eager to feel him, I run my hands over his strong shoulders. Along his sinewy lats, down his back. With each taut ass cheek in each palm, I squeeze as I run my tongue from his jaw to his ear. I start to pull his