Page 80 of Saving Grace

How have people not suffocated from this much love and affection?

With quick, brief kisses trailing their way back down to my belly and then further still, his hands grip my thighs as his kneeshit the floor. I cling to the bed, desperate to anchor myself before I’m so high I can’t find my way back down.

His tongue circles my clit. Whimpers fall from my lips with every stroke he takes. He runs two fingers through my center.

“So wet for me, Gracie.”

“Always.”

One long, earth-shattering stroke of his tongue through my pussy that ends with him sucking my clit steals my last breath. I shoot up off the bed, sinking my hands into his hair. “Mack!”

He stops and lifts his head up, raising an eyebrow.

I fall back onto the bed. Hands desperate for contact, I fondle my breasts. Heat roils in my core. Growing like it did last time his mouth worked me over.

“Goddamn, Grace.”

I track his gaze. It’s on my chest, following my hands as they move. I roll my nipple through my fingertips and can’t help the moan that follows.

He groans, sinking two fingers into my center.

I moan again, my ragged breaths burning with every pass now. But I don’t care. His knuckles bend as they pump in and out of my wet core, and he bites down on my clit playfully.

“Come for me, Gracie.”

I arch from the bed again as he tugs at my clit with his teeth and lightning floods my body.

“Ah . . . Mackinlay.”

My hips rock with each wave he pulls from my body with his tongue, his lips, teeth, fingers.

I’m empty.

I want more of him.

I’m so damn desperate for him to fill me up. To wake me up.

I tumble back to earth as the orgasm fades, and I sit up. Mack is still on his knees, my release all over his five o’clock shadow. His hand a mess with it. I take his hand and pop two of hisfingers into my mouth. Eyes closed, I suck them clean. Evidence that I’m putting the pieces back together every time we do this. Every time he loves me.

This good man fixes what one before him obliterated.

When he absolutely didn’t have to.

The candles flicker as the soft night breeze slips past the curtains. The angles of Mackinlay’s face are ethereal in this light, his body something akin to a man carved of marble. I know how hard he worked to get back to this place. From a broken soldier to this incredible cowboy.

Mack stands, pulling me onto his hips and stepping around the bed. I cover his neck, jaw, and shoulders with kisses as we travel. He sits at the head of the bed and swings his legs over, abs flexing.

I cup his face. “I can’t get close enough,” I whisper.

He reaches for the drawer.

“Do we have to? I had a checkup when I arrived in Montana.”

He draws my face to his with both hands. I sink into the kiss, raising on my knees. His tip brushes my entrance. Velvety soft and so warm. I am desperate to sink onto it.

“Mackinlay, I can’t wait a second longer.”

“Slow, gorgeous.”

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