Page 50 of Saving Grace

“You can touch me, Mack. I won’t break.”

“It’s your choice, Grace. It will always be.”

Relief unfurls in my rapidly moving chest. I nod. I knew this about him already. The day I saw him with Trigger, I discovered the shape of his heart. He continues down the hall, and when we walk into his bedroom, I can’t hold back a second longer. Hands around his face, I sink my lips over his. He opens for me, and I take everything I can until we’re a tangle of tongue, teeth, and breath.

Breaking away, he groans, “Fuck, Gracie.”

Eyes darkened, he lets me down to my feet. I stand, waiting for the blow. He’s changed his mind. Realized who he’s kissing.

Holding my face, he walks forward, sending me backward. The back of my legs hit his bed. “I’m going to have a shower,” he rasps. “When I’m clean, we can?—”

I press a finger to his lips.

He stays silent, so I drop my hand and grab the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head. His throat works.

I release the button on my jeans and push the zipper down.

“Gorgeous girl, you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna. Not for me,” he rasps.

My hands still on the waistband of my jeans. “Maybe you’re right. I need a shower, too.”

“You don’t need a damn thing, you’re fuckin’ perfect.”

A blush floods my neck and face, and I can’t look at him. An iron fist grips my heart with his words, fighting the disbelief that’s too quick to spring to mind.

His hand lifts my chin, turning my head until I’m forced to meet his gaze. “I would ask who did this to you, but we both know. So now, I’m going to show you exactly what you’re worth. How fuckin’ incredible you are. That okay with you?”

All I can do is swallow, ignoring the tears burning behind my eyes, as I give him a shallow nod. He tugs his shirt off and tosses it onto the bed. A second later, I’m being hauled into the en suite, his hand wrapped around mine. In only shorts, he leans into the shower and turns on the water.

Seconds later, steam curls through the small space and out the en suite door. Filling the room, but not doing a thing to settle the blood thundering through my head. Or the rattle my heart is making watching him. His forearms flex as he pushes my jeans from my hips, and he throws them out the door and to the bedroom floor. He turns back to find me breathless. Tilting his head, he shutters his eyes closed ever so briefly.

I fight back embarrassment and the whimper wanting out of my throat. Desperate to fixate on anything but my insecurities, I let my eyes wander over his muscled body. The fire in my core that sparked with the touch of his hands on my skin a second ago sinks. Now I’m glad the lacy navy lingerie I splurged on last month is what covers my skin.

Mack raises a hand. “Can I touch you?”

“Me first?” I utter on threadbare breath.

He smiles and steps forward. I lift a hand to his sculpted chest, running my fingers over the peaks and valleys of his shoulders and pecs, and letting them drift lower. Small shrapnelwounds dot his skin. Their coarseness files against my fingertips. “Did these hurt?”

Stupid question, Grace.God, I am ridiculous right now.

“A little,” he rasps.

I follow the defined V past his hips. But the scar from his surgeries snags my fingers. And all I can see as I trace the raised line is Mack laying on some foreign street in some crappy country, banged up so bad he can’t save himself. Emotion clogs my throat as I whisper, “Shit.”

Warm hands cup my face. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, Gracie.”

I don’t understand why I’m on the verge of tears. We’re only a little more than friends. We didn’t even know each other when this all happened. But stripped down to the bare necessities, it’s like my first chance to heal. After months of survival. Mack seeing me vulnerable and raw is a growing pain I desperately need.

“Shower’s ready, gorgeous girl.”

I’m swept into his arms and against his chest a heartbeat later. A second passes and my feet meet warm tile. The steaming water courses down my body and soaks my lingerie. Why am I still wearing it? “Take it off, please.”

He swallows, hesitating. “We can take our time, if you need to.”

“Sure.”

That little voice pops into my head, screaming,See? He’s not into you, Graceless.

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