Page 69 of Finding Grey

I wrapped my arms around his neck, unable to stop smiling. “Rain, hail or shine, baby. As long as you’re mine.”

“Aw,” he crooned. “You rhymed.”

Laughing, I clambered off his lap, only to grab his hand and pull him after me. “If you think that’s good. You should hear my encore.” As soon as we reached the bedroom, I turned to tug at the hem of his shirt. “Take this off.”

He did as requested, pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it aside. “Have I ever told you how hot you are when you boss me around?”

“You haven’t. But by all means,” I pushed against his chest until he fell back onto the bed, “let me get bossy.”

Joining him, I straddled his hips and took hold of his wrists to lift them above his head. I paused then, to relish the moment. Dante Sinclair, rock legend and poet, was trapped beneath me, ready to be mine. “From this day forward, you belong to me,” I told him. He smirked up at me and my hands tightened around his wrists. “Say it.”

“I belong to you,” he drawled, his eyelids heavy with arousal. “Take what’s yours, baby.” His hips lifted, curling against me, seducing me, and I shivered in delicious anticipation as he spoke again. “I want to feel how much you want me.”