Page 53 of Saving Grace

To feel confident.

An equal party in this, not the doormat I was. Lying down for three minutes to be a good girlfriend and carrying out my obligations.

My eyes shutter closed briefly before I meet his hooded gaze. I want to be that woman. For myself. For him.

I slide a finger under the lacy fabric. The short breaths failing to fill my lungs burn. My throat thickens. The pad of my finger brushes over one sensitive, hard bud and my lips part.

His nostrils flare. His strung-out face is all but wrecked.

“Now, gorgeous,” he rasps.

I slide the lace down, letting my breast pop out and spill over the bunched-up cup.

I swear he stops breathing as he growls, “Fuckin’ hell.”

I do the same with the other, tossing the bra to the floor. He sits back on his heels, fisting the duvet by his sides. With a jerk toward my panties, he grunts, “Those go next.”

Shit.

I worry my bottom lip through my teeth.

“Gracie, you’re killing me. Please...” No man has ever begged for me—or asked, for that matter. It was always just an expectation.

I wedge my fingers under the band at each hip and lift off the bed. As they slide down to my knees, he grabs the thin fabric in one big hand and tugs it off my legs, and the panties join the bra.

My heart flings against my rib cage.

Partly from being self-conscious. Partly from being this wound up.

Mack opens his mouth to speak, but shallow rasps steal his words. Working his way up my legs with kisses, he dots one on each hip. One just above the aching throb in my center. He crowds me against the bed, hands on either side of my head. He drops his mouth to mine. I open instantly, needing him more than ever.

A hand cups my breast, his thumb flicking over the nipple. A whimper rushes from my mouth, and he devours every small sound I make. My body is shaking by the time his hand brushes over my stomach and his fingers circle my clit. I’m on fire. I swear I could combust from him touching me there.

“Can I kiss you there, Grace?” he says, forehead pressed to mine.

“Um, you don’t have to.”

“What if I want to?” He pushes up on one corded arm, hand planted by my head.

My brows shoot down. “Nobody’s really ever—” I shift on the bed. His erection digs into my center. It feels huge. “I never saw the point, I guess.”

“The point?” Nowhisbrows fall. “Grace, have you ever had an orgasm?”

Blush fills my face faster than air can pour into my lungs. “Um, I’m not sure...”

“You would know if you did, gorgeous, trust me.”

“Then I guess not.”

“Fuck,” he mutters. He leans back on his heels again. This time, he studies my face. “Hold onto the bed, Gracie.”

I grab the duvet like my life depends on it. I close my eyes as his head lowers and his hands slide under my thighs.

Oh my god.

Hot kisses dust over my belly before he starts to trail them lower. And lower. I can barely breathe when his hands move, shifting my thighs wider.

His tongue runs through my wet center. I arch off the bed so fast, I’m sure I break vertebrae.

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