Page 52 of Saving Grace

“How much?”

He takes my hand and tugs me to my feet, pressing my fingers to his throat. His pulse bounds, hard. Fast.

Lowering my hand, he rests it over his chest. His heart slams into my palm. His breaths are quick, shallow.

I force my eyes up to him and this time I send my hand downward by itself. The hard ridge in his shorts jerks when I brush my knuckles over it.

His breathing shatters as he rasps, “I want you about as much as I want oxygen. But I’m not taking anything from you. I’m not him. I’m giving instead. My turn to take care of you.”

I open my mouth to say something. I don’t even know what.

He dips his head. “Do you want this?”

I know he means this thing between us. The tension. The chemistry. The bond we’ve made, living and recovering in this house together. I know Mack like I’ve never known another man before. Another person. I trust him.

“Yes,” I breathe out.

He crowds me now, his hot breath hitting my face. Nipples hard, panties soaked, I can’t get close enough. His hands cup myjaw, his mouth dropping to cover mine. Pliant, I lean into him, opening as he sweeps in. My fingers are in his hair. His trail down my neck and over my shoulders.

He breaks away, pressing kisses to my throat, tracking lower across my collarbone, one side and then the other. I pass the point of no return, my insides melting further with every carefully placed kiss. He takes his time, checking back in every now and then. And when his lips brush over the soft flesh of my breast, I can’t help the whimper that falls out.

“You want me to stop, gorgeous?” His voice is deep, gravel.

“Please,” I pant, “please don’t.”

He pops his head up, eyebrows raised as if needing clarification. I shake my head and push his head back down with both hands. His hearty chuckle vibrates through my chest. Resting my palms on his broad shoulders, it takes all I have to stay upright as Mack continues his work of taking care of me.

Each kiss brings electricity to the surface.

With every press of his lips to my body, it’s as if I’m waking up from a numbness so constant, I forgot it was there. He’s more overwhelming—in the best way possible—than I imagined.

I need more.

I need his touch, everywhere.

So, when a hand slides over my hip and tugs me closer, I huff a moan in assent.

“I could do this all day, gorgeous.”

“I would let you...” My words are almost inaudible.

He rises and sweeps me off my feet, one strong arm under my butt, the other wrapped around my shoulder. I can’t take my eyes off his face. I’m the one getting loved on, but it’s his face that’s strung out. I touch his jaw with my hand absentmindedly. He turns, kissing my palm. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He falters a little as he places me on the bed. I can tell all this carrying and lifting me is taking its toll on his hip and leg. So I shuffle backward. He crawls over my almost naked body, eyes roving my curves. “Sweet Jesus, gorgeous.”

I fight the urge to cover up.

My hands drift toward my chest, and he bats them away. He slides his under my back, dipping his head between my breasts. His teeth skate over my hard nipples. I arch off the bed. The clasp on my bra snaps apart.

“Very clever, Mackinlay,” I gasp through a smile.

A soft chuckle slips past his lips. “I thought so.”

The cheekiest grin lights up his face. I all but melt into a puddle on the duvet. Dark blue eyes tighten as his breathing kicks up. His hands slide the straps over my shoulders. Material still covering me, he nods to it. “Take it off for me, Grace.”

I know what he’s doing.

He wants me to own this.

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