Page 16 of Giving Grace

“I—” her hands go still and whatever she’s about to say gets choked out by the flush that come back in full force when what I just said sinks in. “I didn’t come here to stir up shit.”

“No?” I feign confusion, tilting my head just a bit. “Because I gotta tell you, Grace—shit is definitely getting stirred.”

She opens her mouth and it hangs that way for a few seconds before she manages to form a response. “I came here for an—”

“Apology.” I nod thoughtfully. “Yeah—that’s what you said but that’s not why you’re here.”

“Is that right?” Tone sharp enough to cut, she crosses her arms over her chest, mirroring me. “Since you seem to know everything, why don’t you tell me—”

“You saw it. How hard you made me this morning.” Like this morning, I suddenly find myself standing over her and I have no idea how I got here. How I got so close to her without even realizing it, but I’m in it now. I’m here and there’s no pulling back. No retreat. “And you want to know if you can make it again.”

Her mouth falls open when I say it, her sky blue eyes going wide and round, her head tipped back so she can look up at me. “I didn’t…” She shakes her head, the tip of her tongue pushing out to lick her slightly parted lips. “I mean—”

“It’s okay, Grace…” Lifting a hand, I wrap my fingers around the back of her neck, the rough pad of my thumb stroking the long, slim column of her neck, quickening the frantic drum of her pulse at the base of her throat. “I’m kinda curious to know, myself.” Leaning in, I move over her to brush my mouth against hers, feeling something fierce and savage—something I haven’t felt in what seems like a lifetime—roll through me when she shudders in response. “So, what do you say we find out?”

Eleven

Grace

As soon as his mouth touches mine, I start to sink. Every muscle, every joint in my body go loose. Let go.

“Ryan…” That’s as far as I get, my mouth hanging open like I can’t track the question. Because I can’t. I can’t think straight because Ryan is standing over me. His hands are on me. In my hair, the pull of it causing a tingling warmth to shoot down my spine, drawing a direct of sensation from his fist to my pussy. “I didn’t come here for an apology.”

“We’re past that now,” he tells me, the tips of his fingers skimming the waistband of my jeans, teasing me. The heat between my thighs begins to pulsate. His mouth hovering, brushing against mine, every time I take breath. “Yes or no, Grace?”

“Yes.” I raise myself onto the balls of my feet after I say it, closing the space between us to skim my lips against his. “Yes, please.” I whisper it against his mouth, the end of my plea bleeding into a soft moan when the hand in my hair tightens, angling my head back even further and his mouth crashes into mine. Claims it with a hot, languid sweep of his tongue, licking and swirling inside my mouth until my arms are flung around his neck, clinging to him for dear life because I’m dying. I’m drowning and Ryan has no intention of saving me.

He breaks the kiss off on a low groan that sounds like my name. “Be sure,” Ryan says before he moves away from me completely. The sudden absence of him makes me dizzy and I open my eyes to find him gone, walking away, across the living room to disappear through a doorway into what could only be his bedroom.

Follow him.

I’m supposed to follow him.

I want to follow him.

I want to chase him down and rip his clothes off like a wild animal, but I don’t because I know what this is. Why he left me standing here alone. He’s giving me time to change my mind. Time to come to my senses and leave before things go too far. A part of him probably even wishes that I would.

I get it.

I understand.

Because there’s a part of me that wishes the same thing. The still sane part of me that’s telling me to put my coat back on and walk out the door before I lose my mind completely.

Half listening to that voice, I pick up my coat and walk it to the door. I’ve got my hand on the knob, can feel it turn in my hand.

But I can’t make myself do it.

I can’t make myself leave.

Hanging my coat on an empty hook, I pull my phone out of my pocket and tuck it into my coat pocket before kicking off my shoes and pulling off my socks. Barefoot, I cross the living room to stand in the doorway Ryan disappeared through to find him sitting on the edge of his bed, head bent and turned away from the door, the glow of the bedside lamp setting the dark red of his hair on fire while he looks at something in the open drawer of his nightstand. When he hears me, he shuts the drawer and his head comes up, a convoluted mixture of relief and anxiety moving across his face.

“I thought you left.” I can tell by his tone that I’m right—there’s a part of him that wanted me to. Because my mouth doesn’t seem to want to open, I just shake my head and he gives me one of his odd, flat smiles in response because he knows that like him, there’s a part of me that wishes I had. “Still can,” he says, like he’s reading my mind. “It’s not too late.”

Yes, it is.

It’s too late for both of us.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him. “Not unless you want me to.”

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