Page 93 of Drop the Mitts

“Hey, we were in the dark. You haven’t seen me naked.”

“I was talking about Tyler.”

Grace laughed out loud, sucking in a breath as he nipped at her collarbone. He straightened, his mouth brushing her temple, then her cheek, then lower—hovering just beside her lips. “Tell me to kiss you,” he murmured, “or tell me to walk away.”

She trembled.Tell me what you want, Grace.

That crack he’d started split wide open. She wanted him. Not just in the aching, breathless way that kept her up at night—but in the slow, terrifying, life-altering way that made her bones shake. She wanted his energy and excitement. His grin and his grit. She wanted Sunday mornings with coffee, weekends at the rink, and tacos in the kitchen. She wanted something bigger than safety. Bigger than predictability. She wanted to drop through the floor and have André scoop her into his arms at the bottom.

Maybe she couldn’t expect him to always catch her when she fell. But she’d seen him haul ass across the ice more than once. And every time he missed, he had a damn good excuse.

It’s called living, Grace.

She wrapped her hands around his neck. “Kiss me.”

André was excellent at doing what he was told.

Grace’s breath caught in her throat as her back hit the porch railing. Her fingers curled into his shirt, and André moved like he’d already mapped this moment in his head a thousand times. Like he knew exactly what he wanted to touch. To taste.

He was everywhere. His right hand slid up her arm, rough knuckles grazing over the soft inside of her wrist before he cupped her cheek. His other hand gripped her waist, firm, anchoring her in place like he wasn’t sure if she’d bolt.

She whimpered, and as soon as the sound escaped her, he growled low in his throat, pressing her harder into the railing. His palm slid into her hair, fingers tangling in the strands, tilting her head so he could have access to more of her.

Then they were moving, André’s hand wrapped around her wrist. She blinked, dazed, as he tugged her down the stairs. “And where exactly are we?—”

“Silo.”

“What?”

“I need you naked. In bed. Now.”

He scooped her up in his arms, carrying her across the yard, through the spring-wet grass.

“André,” she hissed. “Isn’t that someone’s rental?”

“Not tonight.” He set her down in front of the door and pulled out his phone, thumbing a quick text.

She laughed. “You can’t just break into a?—”

“I’m not breaking in.” He crouched, flipped a paver stone, and plucked the spare key from beneath it. “I’m letting us in. Huge difference.”

Grace crossed her arms, still catching her breath. “And if someone’s booked it?”

He held out his screen.

André

Please tell me silo #1’s empty

I’ll pay a cleaning fee

Country

Don’t break anything or this conversation never happened

André flashed her a devil’s grin. “Permission granted.”

Grace’s heart fluttered at her throat. “I didn’t bring anything, I wasn’t?—”

---