Page 59 of Saving Grace

“Mack?”

He grumbles something incoherent and cracks one eye open.

“If you fall asleep here, I’ll never be able to shift you.”

Brushing the hair matted to the side of my face behind my ear, he nods. I move to stand, but he holds me in place. With a swift motion, he’s on his feet, the tremble in his legs from before nowhere to be seen. Padding into the bedroom, he walks us straight past my bed and into his room.

A moment later, I’m in his bed. He spoons me and pulls me into his hold.

“I should get supper organized,” I mutter. Not sure if me being in his bed is the best idea. What would his family think if they knew?

We’re only fooling around.Right?

“A few minutes, then we can go back to the real world.”

“A few minutes.” I wriggle further into his hold, my back flush against his warm chest. My ass bunted up to his groin.

He slides an arm around me and buries his head in my hair. “I’m proud of you, Grace, for taking what you want.”

I huff a laugh. “Wait until I putthaton my resume.”

A hearty laugh huffs through my hair.

A handful of heartbeats later, my eyes flutter shut.

Clink.

Clink.

Clink.

I sit up, only a sheet over my body. It falls away. Confusion sets in for a second. The room is different.

Mack’s room. And . . . I’m naked.

The last hour before we snuggled into bed floods back in. Heat instantly fills my belly, low. I glance at the clock on his bedside table.

5:00 p.m.

Crap! I have to start supper.

I fly out of bed and tiptoe to my bedroom. I pass the gym on the way, slowing as I do. I watch as Mack pushes out another rep of his shoulder and arm exercises. Holy hell, he is definitely putting on muscle. His sweat-covered arms rise, pushing the weights up again. I hold my breath.

Corded forearms and bulging biceps.

Pretty sure my ovaries just did somersaults.

He meets my gaze as he lets the machine back down. Jaw clenched tight, legs bracing his body, he finishes the set and shakes out his arms.

“You alright?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

My face must look ridiculous, if the expression on his is anything to go by. Dammit.

“I—I was—” I clear my throat. “Nope, I’m going to make supper.” I’m naked and blushing like an absolute idiot. I have one arm wrapped over my breasts, and a hand covering my now very wet center.Damn you, Mackinlay Rawlins. I have chores.

He simply smiles and nods to the hallway. As if telling me to get on with it.Ugh, fine, two can play that game, Mackie-boy.I cringe at the stupid nickname Lawson calls him. I can see why he hates it. It’s childish and corny.

And my best weapon.

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