Page 55 of The Sugar Maple Inn

Then his mouth was on hers and—

Wow.

Grace had been kissed before. Obviously. She knew what kissing felt like.

Except she didn’t. Not like this.

This was lightning and thunder compressed into the space between their lips. This was the storm made physical, wild and fierce and impossible to control. His mouth moved against hers with an intensity that stole her breath, demanding and giving at the same time. One of his huge hands came up to cup the back of her head with a possessiveness that sent heat spiraling through her entire body. He angled her head exactly where he wanted it and Grace felt that spike of heat inside turn into an inferno. There was something primal in the way he held her. Not rough but absolutely in control.

She pressed her palm against his bare, muscled chest, felt him hot and fevered; his heart hammering against her skin.

Thunder crashed overhead again and Reese kissed her harder, like he was trying to drown out the storm or compete with it or become it. His free hand found her waist under the blanket, fingers spreading across her ribs, thumb brushing the underside of her breast through that thin nightgown.

Grace made a sound—half moan, half whimper—and felt him smile against her mouth.

“You’ve no idea,” he murmured against her lips, “how long I’ve wanted this.”

“Since I beat you at the cook-off?” Grace managed, breathless.

“No,” he said, “since you dumped a tray of appetizers on me.”

“That long.” She laughed or tried to, but it came out as a gasp because he was kissing down her jaw now, teeth grazing her pulse point and her entire nervous system was staging a revolution.

“That was—” Kiss. “—only a couple of days ago—” Another kiss, lower. “—Jesus Christ, Reese.”

“I know.” His voice was rough velvet against her throat. “Two days, and I’m on my knees.”

Grace’s hands slid up into his blond hair, thick and soft and exactly as messy as she’d imagined. Reese groaned into her mouth, the sound vibrating through her chest and suddenly the chair wasn’t enough space. He was pulling her forward or she was falling forward or maybe they were both just collapsing into each other like gravity had shifted and they were the only solid things left in the world.

Grace ended up on his lap on the floor, legs around his waist, the blanket finally giving up and pooling around them. His arms wrapped around her waist and they were kissing like the tower might collapse and this was the last moment they’d ever have.

Maybe it was.

Maybe tomorrow morning everything would go back to normal: competition and contracts and all the reasons this was impossible.

But right now, with his mouth on hers and his hands burning through the thin fabric of her nightgown, Grace didn’t give a single damn about tomorrow.

Twenty-One

Reese

Tomorrow.

The word kept trying to surface through the haze of want, but Reese shoved it down. Tomorrow could wait. Tomorrow with its consequences and complications and all the reasons this was a fucking bad idea.

Right now there was only Grace.

Her lips on his, soft and fierce at the same time. Her hands in his hair, nails scraping his scalp in a way that sent electricity straight down his spine. The way she moved against him, restless and wanting, grinding into his lap like she couldn’t get close enough.

And Christ, he was hard. Painfully hard. His cock straining against his sweats, pressed against her through that thin nightgown that might as well not exist. He could feel the heat of her through the fabric. Could feel her moving against him, that small gasp she made when he shifted his hips up to meet her.

He wanted to tear the nightgown off. Wanted to see her properly instead of just these stolen glimpses in moonlight. His hand slid up her ribs, finding her breast. Small. Perfect. He cupped it through the fabric, felt the peak of her nipple hard against his palm and the whimpering sound she made nearly destroyed him.

Grace rocked against him harder, seeking friction, and Reese groaned into her mouth. His other hand gripped her hip, guiding her movements, and the storm outside was nothing compared to the one building between them.

Lightning flashed. Thunder crashed.

And then—