Page 67 of His Saving Grace

She reached up with trembling arms and pulled him down for a hard kiss. He growled, plunging his tongue into her mouth and pulled her panties aside. He dragged his cock through her wetness, brushing against her clit. She made a mewling sound, another tremor jolting through her.

And then he pressed inside her.

She was so wet from her orgasm, there was no resistance, and he slid deep. He filled her completely, skating close to uncomfortable, touching every inch. She clenched her inner muscles, and he groaned, his shaft pulsing inside her.

He pulled back, almost to the point of leaving, and then slammed his hips forward. She gasped at the hard thrust and slid her arms around his neck. He pulled back again, and she planted her feet on the mattress, driving her hips upward to meet his downward thrust. Over and over and over again he pounded into her. He buried his face against her neck, the speed of his strokes increasing, each thrust of his hips harder and deeper than the last.

She ran her hands through his hair, whispering all the wicked, dirty things she wanted to do to him. He groaned, his teeth scraping along the spot where her neck met her shoulder. He bit down, hard enough to leave a mark. Like she’d left on his skin during her orgasm at their picnic. Her core clenched and he made a strangled sound.

He picked up the pace again, hips slamming together. She squeezed her core muscles again, aiming for a definitive pattern. The rhythmic contractions sent a tingle through her. Another hard thrust and another, smaller orgasm rocked her.

She cried out, driving her hips against his. The rippling of her inner muscles sent Mason over the edge. He thrust into her once, twice, three times, deeper and harder each time. A growl ripped from his throat as he came, his shaft pulsing deep inside her.

She planted soft kisses along his jaw, the stubble prickling her lips. He melted against her, their sweat-slicked bodies practically melded together. His weight pinned her to the mattress, his breath sawing in and out of his lungs. He was heavy, but she loved the feel of him on top of her, so she didn’t protest.

He buried his face against the skin of her neck, his breath tickling her sensitive flesh. After a minute or two, his breaths evened out, and she realized he’d fallen asleep.

She smiled, even though he was squashing her. She knew he didn’t sleep well, had seen the fatigue lining his face on many occasions. No way she was waking him now.

She slipped her arms around him and held him close, pressing a soft kiss on the top of his head. What was she going to do? He made her feel things she hadn’t thought she’d ever feel again. It scared her. But, at the same time, thrilled her. She was falling for him, hard and fast, and if she didn’t stop soon, she’d be in far too deep.

It also wasn’t fair to not be honest. To him, or to herself. She had to tell him. If she wanted to make this work—although she wasn’t sure she could—she needed to let it all out and live with the consequences. If he walked away, then so be it.

Yeah, right. Her soul ached at the thought of him walking away. It was possible she was already in way too deep.