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Time halted as he explored her body, kissing her neck and her breasts, covering her skin with his hands. She thought dimly that no one had ever taken such care to arouse her before and she felt herself come alive.
"I need you to touch me," he growled against her mouth.
With confidence she never would have thought herself capable of, she began to stroke him, from his wide shoulders and his chest, down the rigid contours of his stomach, to the curve of his hip bones. When she went lower, taking him in her hands, he braced himself against the headboard as spasms wracked his big body. Marveling that she was the one he needed so badly, she began to pleasure him.
She didn't get far. With a flash of movement, he grabbed her and drew her to him, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, his hands going over her back restlessly. She sensed that he was trying to be gentle but that his need made him rough. She wasn't afraid. She only wanted more.
"I can't hold out longer," he groaned against her mouth. He rolled over on top of her and his eyes bored into hers as his weight pressed her down into the mattress. Arching under him, feeling a swelling, pulsating need at her core, she brought up her knees. He settled in between her legs with an expression that was close to anguish.
John pulled back, looking down into her eyes. "Are you sure?"
She nodded and pulled him to her mouth.
With an aching slowness, he entered her, filling her body with a lush thickness that was her undoing. She cried out and he swallowed her incomprehensible words as he began moving inside of her. Harder and faster he mastered her body until they came together, exploding with hoarse cries, holding on tightly to each other.
In the stillness that followed, a glow settled in her, but she wasn't sure what he was feeling. She glanced at him from under her lashes. His eyes were shut and the harsh planes of his face were startlingly relaxed.
"You okay?" he said.
She smiled. "Yes. I am."
He looked at her, stroking back a strand of hair from her face. "You're one hell of a woman."
"Really?"
"Yes. Really." He kissed her. Long and slow.
She reached up and grabbed onto his back.
As he grew hard inside of her again, she sighed and gave herself up to the pleasure.
* * *
Grace woke up alone and she could tell it was late in the morning. The sun, which was streaming in through the windows and wandering lazily across the floor, had reached as far as the end of her bed. She stretched, feeling all kinds of new sensations, and smiled to herself as she looked at the mess they'd made of the bed.
After making love to John all night long, she felt like a new woman. He'd been everything she'd hoped he would be, both passionate and tender, and he sure as hell knew how to use that hard body of his. It had been the single most satisfying night in her life.
Looking across the room at the chair that was braced against the French doors, she did wonder how she was going to explain the damage, however.
She was just getting up and drawing on her robe when she heard a knock on the door. She was surprised to find her mother standing outside in the hall.
"This is early for you," Grace said, trying to smooth down her hair. She was well aware it was a matted mess.
"No, it isn't. You slept through breakfast."
Her mother stepped forward, forcing Grace to move out of the way. Her eyes went to the broken door. "I thought I heard something in here last night. What happened?"
Grace shrugged. "I locked myself out on the terrace by mistake."
“Why didn't you use the door at the end of the hall? "
"That was locked as well."
Carolina went over and inspected the broken handle. “I will have to get Gus up here to repair this."
"Do you want something?"
Her mother turned. "Why is the bedroom that I gave Mr. Smith uninhabited?
Grace hesitated. "Because he's not staying in it."
"And where is he staying?"
"Across the hall."
There was a terrible pause. Grace straightened her shoulders as her mother's eyes turned cold.
"Is there any particular reason his original room was not to his liking?"
"Mother—"
"You lied to me, didn't you ?" The words were whispered fiercely.
"About what?"
"About—about... that man being your lover!"
Not exactly, Grace thought. Yesterday, he hadn't been.
"Mother, you're blowing this out of proportion."
"Am I?" Carolina pointed a finger at Smith's coat, which was hanging over the back of a chair. "Then perhaps there; is another explanation for why your bed is in disarray and that man's jacket is in your room."
Grace prayed her flush wasn't as obvious as it felt. "We went for a walk. I was cold and he gave it to me."
