Page 103 of Saving Grace

He breaks away, dipping his head by my ear. “I love you more than you’ll ever know, Gracie.”

I suck in a ragged breath, and a sob tumbles out with the next exhale. Tears sting the back of my eyes.

Mack’s hand squeezes my breast, reducing to two fingers as he pinches the nipple. I gasp, hardly able to catch a single breath.

He growls against my neck. “Now, come with me, gorgeous.”

I lean my head on his shoulder, and his mouth covers mine. His tongue sweeps in, stroking. The fire in my belly he’s been igniting since I landed on the paint table surges. Two warm fingers find my clit, pinching, swirling across it. I explode around his cock. Each wave tightens. “Mackin—” I jerk my hips against his hand, legs shaking. Splintering release encapsulates every cell of my body. “Oh my god. Mack!”

“Good girl.” He grunts. “Fuck!”

His pace turns erratic. He pushes me to the floor with one hand, slamming into me harder than before. He bends down, fingers sliding into my mouth. I suck them before they hook over my jaw. He slams in, faster still.

“Gracie!” My name is a roar. The slap of his body slamming into my own. Devine. Hot rope floods my center. A moment later, his thrusts die out, and he peels me from the floor. I’m pulled flush to him, sweat sticking us together. Gentle hands search my body quickly, as if checking me over for damage. When none is found, he pulls out. I am at a loss without him. Spinning on my knees, I take his face in my hands.

“Mackinlay...” He studies my face, as if waiting for me to tell him he hurt me, his face falling by the second. “It’s okay. I’m good. Better than good. And...”

“What is it?” His breath hitches.

I kiss his jaw. His lips. Pulling his head down, I dot another to his forehead. Tilting his head up, I meet his gaze. “I love you, Mackinlay Samuel Rawlins.”

I’m folded into his hold before the next heartbeat.

I haven’t only found my place. I have found my home.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

MACK

Grace sleeps peacefully beside me. I haven’t slept a wink all night. I glance over at the clock.

3:07 AM

Jesus, today is gonna be shit. I can just feel it.

Grace’s phone vibrates on the nightstand on her side of the bed. What the fuck?

Who. The fuck . . .

I reach over and glance at the screen.

The name glaring back at me, burning out my retinas with the brightness turned way up, dumps a rock into the pit of my gut.

Joel.

Sweet fuckin’ Christ. Doesn’t this loser know when to give up?

As if on cue, Grace starts murmuring in her sleep. Torn between letting her rest and moving across the bed to burn the fucker’s existence out of her phone, I stay where I am and do nothing.

A small whimper slips through her lips.

I lean back, straining to gauge the expression on her face in the darkness. She’s asleep, but her face wars with emotion.I lay back down and pull her into my arms, hoping that by being wrapped around her I will protect her from whatever is plaguing her dreams. I’m no stranger to nightmares I would rather escape. And I would walk into hers if I knew I could save her from that particular torture.

“No, please... sto—” A small sob keens from her throat.

Fuck.

I hold her tighter. Brushing the hair from her face. “You’re okay, gorgeous. Just wake up.”

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