Page 74 of The Sugar Maple Inn

Reese gritted his teeth. Forced himself slower despite every fiber in him wanting to go faster. Watched her face as he pulled almost all the way out. Paused. Then sank back in with excruciating control.

Grace made a frustrated sound. Her hips tried to move. He held her down.

She clenched around him again. Tighter this time. And moaned—low and needy—right in his ear.

His hips jerked involuntary.

Shit.

“That’s it,” Grace murmured. Her nails dragged down his back. “You want to go faster. I can feel it.”

“Maybe I want to go slow? Make you come a second time,” he whispered, thumb now circling her clit.

“Don’t be silly,” she said, biting her lip. “Not possible to come twice in a day.”

“Not been with someone like me before then.”

She opened her mouth—probably to say something sharp—but he shifted angles so his cock hit the spot he knew would make her see it all different, and the words dissolved into a gasp.

And then he saw it.

That flicker in her eyes. Not frustration. Not competition. Something deeper. Rawer. Like she was fighting something that had nothing to do with him.

Like she’d forgotten how to just let herself feel.

Reese leaned down. Put his mouth right next to her ear. “Feel it,” he whispered.

Grace went still beneath him as he continued moving slowly, friction on that spot.

“Stop thinking,” he said quietly. “Stop fighting. Just feel it.”

Her breath hitched. And something changed. Her hands, which had been gripping his shoulders with that competitive edge, softened. Slid up into his hair. Not fighting anymore. Just holding.

“I don’t—I can’t—” she started.

“I know.” He kissed her temple. “I’ve got you.”

He started moving faster, finding the rhythm that made her breath catch. That made her eyes flutter closed.

“Look at me,” Reese said.

She did. And the vulnerability in that look gutted him. He picked up the pace. Not because she asked. Because he could feel what she needed. Could feel the tension building in her body. The way she was climbing toward something she’d probably forgotten existed.

“That’s it, you’re doing real good,” he murmured. “Stay with me.”

Grace’s breathing went ragged. Her nails dug into his shoulders, not competitive now, just holding on. Like he was the only thing keeping her together.

“Reese—” His name came out broken. “I can’t—it’s too much—”

“You can.” He drove deeper. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

She shook her head. Like she’d spent so long holding everything together she didn’t know how to let go.

“Grace.” He cupped her pretty face. Made her look at him. “Let. Go,” he instructed.

And something in her broke.

Her back arched. Her mouth opened on a cry that was half sob, half moan. And she cried out his name. Not with sass or competition or control, but with raw, honest surrender.