“Greedy.” His teeth grazed my throat. “I fucking love it.”
New noises came out of me—desperate, needy sounds that would probably embarrass me later but right now just feltright.
“Fuck, Grace. You’re so fucking perfect.”
I pulled his mouth down to mine and kissed him while he thrust into me, swallowing his groans and giving him my own. Lifting my hips to meet him. Squeezing my inner muscles around him on every withdrawal until he cursed against my mouth. “That’s it.That’s it!”
He slid a hand between us and found my clit, rubbing in tiny circles in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation was too much, not enough, everything I needed in my entire universe.
“I’m close,” I breathed. “Garrett, I’m?—”
“Let go.” He drove harder, rubbed faster. “I’ve got you.”
“Garrett!” I cried out, letting go of everything—the fear, the grief, the uncertainty—and riding the pleasure. My whole body went taut, clenching around him in waves so sharp I felt them in my fingertips. He kept moving through it, extending the orgasm longer than I knew was possible, and then his rhythm broke. His movements turned erratic and deep, and he gripped my hip hard enough to leave marks. He buried his face against my neck as he growled his own climax, an intoxicating low, ragged sound that invaded my soul.
He collapsed onto his side, pulling me with him.
We lay tangled together, breathing hard. He kept one arm wrapped around my waist, kept me tucked against his chest, as his heartbeat slowed under my cheek. I gradually became aware of the slow, satisfied sweep of his thumb tracing nothing in particular against my hip.
Eventually, he dealt with the condom, then pulled me right back against him. His mouth pressed against my hair, and we lay there, settling into the knowledge of what we’d done to each other’s bodies.
“So,” I said eventually.
“So.”
“That was amazing.”
“I think I can do better next time,” he said with a laugh.
“Better?” I shoved him onto his back and crawled on top of him, straddling his hips as I had on the train. “What was wrong with that?”
“I’m not sure.” He sat up, forcing me into his lap, so I felt how quickly he was getting hard underneath me. “But there isalwaysroom for improvement.”
Chapter 31
Galahad
The room was still dark,the curtains blocking most of the Prague dawn. Grace was curled against me, her back warm against my chest, her hair fanned across the pillow. My arm was draped over her waist, so her ribs expanded against my forearm with each slow breath.
My woman.
I let the thought sit without pushing it away. Grace Laurent was asleep in my arms, and I didn’t want to be anywhere else. I’d dreamed about her instead of about violence. I woke without any desire to leave the bed. We were close. We were together. And the rest of the world could wait until we’d had our fill of each other.
My hand slid from her stomach to her hip. Traced the curve of it, slowly, just to feel her skin under my palm. Up over her belly. Higher, over the soft weight of her breast, and she stirred against me.
“Mm.” She pressed back into me, still half asleep. Her body softened into mine, heavy and loose. “That’s better than my alarm.”
“Your alarm doesn’t do this.” I brushed my thumb across her nipple, and she sucked in a breath.
“No, it does not.” She put her hand over mine and forced it to cup and squeeze her breast. It was lazy and unhurried, but my cock was already stiff against her ass—had been since before she woke up—and she rocked her hips to make sure I knew she’d noticed.
“Is that a tactical assessment,” she murmured, “or are you just happy to see me?”
“Both.”
“We should have rationed the condoms last night.” Her voice was thick with sleep. She slid my hand lower, down her belly, guiding my fingers.
“Probably.”
