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As soon as he left her.
“I don’t want to write another way.” He tossed the keys on the table. “I don’t take these kinds of assignments for fun. I do it because it’s how I write my books.”
“Have you ever tried a different process?”
He shook his head. “I find out what I need to know and learn what I need to learn. Then I…I leave.”
“You don’t always have to leave.”
He broke his gaze from hers. “Yes, I do.”
“You didn’t leave Folio after your father died.”
His jaw tightened. “People’s livelihoods were at stake. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Of course you did.”
“If I’d left Folio, there wouldn’t have been anyone on the Atwood side who was qualified or had the right to run it.”
“So you did what people expected you to do.” A sudden understanding welled up inside her. “And that’s why your writing process involves seeking out unique people and experiences. It’s one of the ways you’re able to escape a lifetime of expectations.”
His expression darkened. He didn’t respond.
A sharp pain nudged at her heart. She took small comfort in the fact that she had told him from the start that sheexpectednothing from him as far as their relationship was concerned. She certainly wouldn’t change that now by asking him to stay.
She approached him slowly and reached up to unfasten the knot of his tie. He didn’t move, allowing her to take off his tie and suit jacket before she began unbuttoning his shirt.
In short order, his beautiful chest was naked for her touching pleasure. She ran her hands over the slopes of his pecs and down his abdomen, then lifted her face to his.
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
He slipped his hand to her nape, tilting her head to just the right angle. The scent of him—citrus and spice—filled her head the instant before their lips met. Heat billowed through her. She fell into him, craving the full contact of his body. His fingers found the little buttons marching up the front of her cashmere sweater.
One by one, he flicked them open and pushed the sweater off her shoulders. He pulled off her blouse and unfastened the zipper of her skirt, pushing it to the floor in a puddle of blue linen. Then she was standing in front of him in only her sheer bra and panties.
He let out a heavy breath, his gaze darkening as he skimmed her body with a desire so potent it felt like a touch. “You are incredibly beautiful.”
A hot flush swept across her skin. He bent to slide his arm beneath her knees. He lifted her into his strong arms and carried her into the bedroom.
Grace kissed his jaw and smiled. “You like this move, hmm?”
So did she, truth be told.
“Yeah, because I get to put you down and climb on top of you.” He winked at her the instant before lowering her onto the bed and straddling her thighs.
His eyes warmed to a deep honey-gold as he lowered his mouth to hers, pressing her into the pillows. A thousand sparks flared through her blood. She curled her hands around his biceps and opened her mouth.
The air grew thick and heavy. He eased away from her only long enough to pull off the rest of his clothes. The overhead light flickered against his damaged shoulder and the web of scars that would forever be both a reminder and a memory.
She pulled him back down to her, folding her legs around him as she pressed kisses over his wounds. His breath rasped against her neck. They indulged in another long moment of kissing before he took off her lingerie and began the slow, lovely exploration of her body that brought her right to the edge. He pressed her thighs open, and then she felt the shockingly hot touch of his tongue.
“Lincoln!” She bucked upward. “Oh my god…”
He murmured against her flesh before pleasuring her in ways that had her crying out and gripping the comforter in her fists. He brought her to an explosive release before surging upward and burying himself deep inside her. They rocked and thrust together, their panting breaths punctuated by groans and sighs, before the firestorm washed over them both.
Afterward, he rolled over and pulled her on top of him as their breathing slowed. Grace rested her head against his chest. His heartbeat echoed hers.
The pieces are all in place, she’d told him. She hadn’t considered what would happen when the pieces broke apart.
