Page 88 of Saving Grace

“No way, we are not speeding home. Besides, the wait could be considered foreplay.”

I climb back to my seat as he shifts the Beetle into gear.

I can’t take my eyes from him as he puts the VW through her paces. Never speeding, but he’s not slacking off by any means. In the side mirror, I catch the wake of dust flying up behind us. Mack looks ridiculous driving little old Blue, his bulky frame folded into the driver’s seat. Hands gripping the wheel, making it appear smaller than it is. I chuckle at him. Amusement returns.

“Care to share, Miss Weston?”

“Just the sight of you crammed behind the wheel. You’re like a cartoon character, bouncing down a bumpy road in a tiny matchbox car.”

“Pretty sure the first time you ordered me into this tin can, I told you that...”

“You did.” He absolutely did.

He glances at me, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Why did you let me get away with that, you obviously don’t fit.” I chuckle again as he flaps his elbows like a bird trying to fly. When he looks at me with those deep blues and says, “You have no idea the lengths I would go for you, Gracie.”

The laughter dies out and I sit quietly, taking him in. His gaze drifts back to the road. His face has fallen to something akin to mine. Serious. Contemplating. Like we both knew, but only now realized who we are to each other.

“Mackinlay,” I whisper.

He stares ahead for a beat before turning his gaze to me. “Yeah, gorgeous.” His voice is raw. The emotion I feel is evident in his words, too.

I swallow back the other confession that wants out, schooling my face to something lighter. “Are we there yet?”

The hearty rumble that breathes from his chest spreads warmth through mine.

“Almost.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

MACK

“Don’t you dare be gentle,” Grace breathes. My teeth graze her neck as one hand cups a breast. I wind a hand around her back and release the clasp on her bra. The sky-blue lacy underwear joins the rest of our clothes on my bedroom floor. With an erection that could drive through titanium steel, I am beyond desperate for her. She kneels at the edge of the bed. Bare. Breathless.

Fuckin’ beautiful.

“You sure?” I rasp.

“Yes, Mackinlay. I am very sure. And I am not having sex in this bed. Neither of us is that boring.”

I loose a choppy moan as she grips my cock, her thumb brushing over the tip. This girl. This fuckin’ girl. I lower my mouth to clamp my lips around her nipple, and she arches into me. Using her now-curved posture, I scoop her up off the bed and onto my hips.

The washing machine whirs away as we enter the laundry room.

“Hmmm, I like your thinking,” Grace whispers.

The puffs of every word hit the shell of my ear, sending goosebumps over my skin. I deposit her on the machine as itclicks over to spin cycle. She spreads for me. Her wet, glistening pussy so damn ready.

Somine.

I hook my hands behind her knees and tug her forward. Spreading her further, I run my tongue through her center.

“Fuck, Gracie. You taste incredible.”

My balls tighten with every move my tongue makes through her soaked center. She moans, leaning back and bracing herself with her hands on the sides of the washing machine. The hum of the spin cycle grows louder. I suckle her clit and circle my fingertips over her entrance.

She wriggles.

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