Page 110 of Saving Grace

Something drops onto my head. Then another something. Moisture sinks into my hair, hitting my skin. I quiet, stilling as I listen to his breathing.

A groan claws up his throat. His Adam’s apple works fast. The veins in his neck pound quickly. Tears create a sheen over his stubble. I look up to his wrecked face. This stoic, kind, amazing man is falling apart with me. For me. I push up, fingers wrapping around his jaw, pulling his face down to meet my gaze. “Mack?—”

I haul in a breath and whimper. “Mackinlay, I’m o—” I slump my forehead to his. “I’ll be alright. I’ll be alright.”

He groans, staring at me. It’s raw. Unrefined pain released in one single sound. His shattered, quick breaths have him distraught. I stroke his face with my trembling hands and sniff back the tears. Seeing him this way straightens my spine. I push down my own demons before they take him under, too.

No way.

I won’t let them touch him.

“Breathe, Mackinlay,” I whisper.

He pulls in a lungful, and his face softens. I don’t let his dark blue gaze sway from mine, my palms planted on his face. I study him, taking in the strongest, bravest person I have ever met. And the waymysuffering destroys him?

This is what real love is.

Wheneverythingis shared.

The good, the bad.

The pleasure, the pain.

“Gra—” He sucks in a lungful. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” I press a light kiss to his mouth. He tilts his head, allowing me more. My hands trail down his neck. I ground myself before looking back up at him. With a lone finger, I trace the curve of his bottom lip. His breathing settles, only to bottom out again with my touch. I plant my kneeson either side of his lap. “Never be sorry for loving me this much, Mackinlay.”

His face cracks a little and he schools it back. “Seein’ you hurting is like having my insides ripped out. Worse than anything I’ve ever felt.” His voice is no more than a rasp.

I have never loved another person the way I love this man right now. It’s so strong, so beautiful between us that it downright hurts.

We love, we hurt.

We fight, we hurt.

We breathe, we hurt.

It’s the agony of something otherworldly that I’m certain not many find. The kind of ache that lets you know you’re alive. Comforted in the fact you’re the most important person in the whole world to the other. Sweet, sweet agony.

I trace my fingertips over his jaw, his lips, his nose, and across his forehead. He closes his eyes. His breathing settles, and I readjust myself on his lap, my distraught body now softened to his, with heat pooling low in my belly. The emotions concentrate to one point, pulling me closer to him. His hands grip my hips. I follow his gaze as it studies my face before dipping to my lips.

“Supper can wait,” he rasps.

I chuckle softly. “Yes, it can.”

He smashes his mouth to mine. I open for him instantly. I’m his. He is mine. With the baggage between us, the sentiment means so much. The hurts we have both overcome.

His hand slips under my button-down shirt, thumbs skittering over my ribs then find my aching nipples. Hands around his throat, I press closer. Somehow, no matter how intimate we are, I can never get close enough to Mack. I tug his shirt from his back, wanting more of him. Needing to lovehim. The overwhelming yearning to bring this man the soul-shattering exaltation he gives me drives my hunger.

“You wanna move, gorgeous?”

I shake my head, too desperate to care we are on the floor in the middle of the living room. Planting kisses down my neck, his hands work my clothes free, sinking down until his mouth closes over my hard peak now aching for the tug he brings. I arch into him as he gives me everything I want. He knows me so well. Plays every achingly sweet spot in my body with his fingers, his mouth...

His rigid length rubs into my wet, thrumming center. I grind on him, needing the pressure on my clit. Needing him inside me, I claw at his shoulders.

“Mackinlay, more. I need more.”

Now.

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