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“You really like your romance, don’t you?”
Gracie nods. “Love it. Romance happens to be one of the most feminist, most interesting, and yes, most stimulating genres out there. I mean that in every sense of the word. As a matter of fact, you have romance to thank for my quest for sexual liberation.”
My pulse skips.
“That’s right. You were tellin’ me how My Deal With the Duke gave you the idea. I mean, if romance inspires you like that—hell, I just became a romance fan myself.”
Gracie bites her lip, eyes going all squinty with pleasure. “In the book, the heroine, Lady Jane, feels trapped by her life. Everyone thinks she’s too weird. Too quiet. But she has all these secret desires that are burning a hole in her pantalettes—”
“Please tell me that’s what they called thongs back then.”
Gracie’s head tilts back as she laughs, tapping the outside of her fist against my chest. “For simplicity’s sake, sure. Anyway. She’s got all these desires but no one to help her explore them. Until her best friend’s older brother, Max, shows up at the manor next door.”
“Aw yeah,” I say, nodding. “I see where this is going. I’m him in this scenario, right?”
“If you’re a well hung Duke who owns half of Northumberland and fills out a pair of breeches quite nicely, then yes, you are him.”
I consider this for a moment. “I’ve got the well hung part down. And I do own thirty acres on Wadmalaw. I don’t rightly know what breeches are, but I’d like to think I got enough junk in my trunk to make ’em work.”
Gracie untangles her arms from between us to reach around, looking up as she moves her hands over my ass. Eyes on the ceiling, like she’s concentrating real hard as she kneads and squeezes and generally drives me up a fucking wall.
“Oh yeah,” she says, biting back a laugh. “You got a real nice bubble butt back here. Do I have baseball to thank for that?”
“You sure do. Baseball butt is a real thing.”
“Yeah, I’d say your baseball butt would do breeches justice.”
Her mouth looks so fucking kissable right then. She’s lit up and laughing, and in this moment, she is completely mine.
“I want to do you justice,” I say, taking her face in my hand.
“If that means doing me, then I’m on board,” she replies.
“Look who’s cracking the pervy jokes now.”
“I learned from the best.”
I tighten my grip on her, making her head bob gently back and forth. Our eyes meet. Looking at her, wild hair and hope and hunger, I can’t breathe.
“You’re beautiful,” I say.
Her smile softens, and so does my heart.
“You’re excellent,” she says.
A beat of heated silence passes. Heat I feel in my body and inside my chest, too.
Anticipation blooms between us. Heat is there, but this—this line of silent, honest communication—it transcends the sexual.
By just standing there, her body pressed against mine, lips parted, she’s showing me something true.
I stay still. Terrified that if I make the wrong move she’ll run.
Slowly—slow enough that I am aware of every agonizing heartbeat that passes—Gracie rises up on her toes and kisses me. She loops her arms around my neck and kisses me. Mouth slanting over mine with intention and care. This isn’t the crazed kiss we shared earlier.
This is a kiss kiss. A romantic one.
I melt into it, thinking the whole time that I am so in over my head here.
I don’t scare easily. But the way this kiss makes me feel?
That scares the shit outta me. Not because I’m afraid of falling in love. But because I know I’m falling fast for a girl who is afraid of forever. Who’s afraid of losing herself if something like that were to happen.
Maybe that’s why my body takes over. My brain short circuiting and my heart panicking but something inside me refuses to stop. Leave it to Gracie Jackson to reveal the masochistic side I didn’t even know I had.
I grab Gracie’s ass and lift her up and she wraps her legs around my waist, my hands on the backs of her thighs. Moans.
I claim the kiss, the world slowing to a standstill as I pour myself into her mouth. As I say to her all the things I can’t actually say out loud.
There’s a universe inside this kiss. One I want to get lost in.
I lose grip, and the kiss gets heated. Gracie curls her hips into mine, grinding against me. I groan, my dick throbbing. How the hell am I this hard after coming, what, ten minutes ago?
She’s reaching down my back and fisting my shirt in her hands, tugging it up. She bites the corner of my lip. Breathes my name.
Luke, please.
I know this old song and dance.
She wants to fuck me.
Lord do I want to fuck her, too.
Just not like this.
