Page 55 of Saving Grace

“I mean, I know I’m good, Gracie, but still, the fact remains.”

She slaps my arm and plucks the juice from the fridge, setting it on the counter. Moving beside me again, she starts cutting up the salad ingredients I have laid out. I dot a kiss to the crown of her head. I wasn’t lying—taking care of this girl is my pleasure. Seeing her come almost made me lose my load in my shorts.

Those blue eyes glance my way, and she clears her throat.

“What?” I ask, shunting the chicken in the pan around with a wooden spoon.

“Scorecard or not. I want you to have what you gave me, too.”

The spoon slips from my hand, clunking onto the side of the pan. “Lunch first?” I manage to rasp.

The vision of those pretty pink lips wrapped around my cock hijacks the functioning part of my brain. She leans a hip against the counter, her tattered short denim shorts sitting over her fitted pale blue V-neck shirt. The cleavage I had my head buried in half an hour ago heaves. Apparently, I have the same effect on her as she does on me.

But she says, “Lunch first.”

An hour and two full bellies later, we curl up on the sofa. Grace flicks through the channels. I’m not paying the big rectangle any attention, with my gaze fixed on her. Her long hair is pulled around to one side. We bask in the AC like lounginglizards. She turns on her seat and drapes her long legs over my lap.

“Can you give me a riding lesson later, when it’s cooler?”

I can’t help the grin bursting over my face. I chuckle and rub my stubbled jaw.

She pulls the cushion from under her head and tosses it at mine. I lean down and dot kisses up her leg.

“Stop,” she says between breathy giggles. “Stop it, I’ll pee my pants.”

“You want me to get you wet, gorgeous?”

“No, I want a riding lesson on ahorse. Thank you very much, Mr. Rawlins.”

“Mr. Rawlins?!” Both eyebrows shoot into my hairline. I scoff at her. “Gracie, I amnotthat old.”

“Sure, you are.”

“One orgasm and you turn into a brat.” I toss the cushion back to her and it smacks her in the face. I freeze.

Shit, I didn’t think before I threw it.

A fit of giggles bursts from her lips as she throws her head back. Her legs disappear from my lap, and a heartbeat later, she is straddling me, her hands gripping my face. Soft lips press to mine. I open for her, like she has for me.

She can take anything she finds in this man’s heart.

Gracie’s a natural. She rises with every other footfall Trigger makes around the round yard. In her old jeans and a yellow checked button-down shirt rolled up at the sleeves she found at the charity shop, she grips the pommel with one hand, theother holding the reins. The wind is up this afternoon, but the gelding is sound, head down, ears forward. It’s as if he knows he’s responsible for precious cargo.

“How about a lope?” I call to her.

“What?” She glances at me, gripping the pommel tighter.

“Push him into a lope. Squeeze him with your legs and sit back as he rocks into the faster gait.”

Her face twists, and she reins the gelding to a stop.

I walk to where they stand. Grace’s breaths are quick in what I’m sure is excitement and a little fear. I mean, who wouldn’t be a little scared on a horse the first time?

“You want me to hop up there with you?”

“Can you do that? It won’t be too heavy for him?”

I slide her sneaker-clad foot out of the stirrup, and it hangs by Trigger’s side. I make a mental note to get her real boots. And a hat, for that matter. Sliding my left boot into the stirrup, I push off the ground and haul myself up onto the horse behind her. I remove myself from the stirrup, wrapping my arms around Grace. She glances back, happiness radiating over those elegant features, concentrated in her blue eyes.

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