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“Grace…”
“Just kiss me. Please.” She looked up at him, her eyes so wide and innocent. His gaze dipped to her lips. So sweet and so swollen.
He could remember the way they felt around him.
“I can’t,” he told her. “I can’t kiss you and let you walk away.” Not again.
“Please.” She traced his pectoral muscle with her finger, her thumb grazing his nipple. “Please, Michael.”
And there it was. He couldn’t resist her. Maybe he’d known that all along. That’s why he kept his distance. Not because he didn’t want people to guess about New York, but because he knew he couldn’t be trusted.
“If I kiss you, will you leave?”
She shook her head. And he liked that too much. He didn’t want her to leave.
He wanted to kiss her until she forgot her name.
Reaching out, he tipped her chin up. A little sigh escaped her lips and he could feel the warmth on his wrist. Slowly, he ran the pad of his thumb along her rosy bottom lip.
And then she sucked him inside.
Her warm, velvety mouth enveloped him, her tongue fluttering against his thumb, and he turned harder than steel.
She released him with a pop. “Kiss me.”
And he did. Not a soft one this time. This kiss was a clash of mouth and teeth. The hot swiping of tongues and the aching warmth of their breath as they battled to get closer. She was clawing at his t-shirt, almost certain to leave scratches, and he pushed his thigh between hers, groaning at the warmth of her.
Grace groaned right back, moving herself against him, creating a rhythm as they kissed, letting out those soft little breaths that drove him wild.
She was beautiful. She was his. That’s all he could think of as he devoured her mouth.
His. His. His.
He’d fucking slay armies for her.
He slid his fingers into her hair, angling her head so he could kiss her harder. Deeper. Longer. His other hand trailed down her back, holding her tight as he moved his thigh against her.
So warm. So pliable. So perfect.
And then the front door banged open.
“Fuck.” He stepped back like his ass was on fire. Grace was leaning against the counter, her eyes glazed like she was drunk.
Moments later, the kitchen door opened and Mason walked in. He looked at Grace and then at Michael. “Hey. I saw your car outside.”
There was enough distance between them for it to look respectable. But Grace herself looked anything but respectable. Her hair was hanging out of her bun, her lips were swollen, her eyes darting every way they could.
She took a deep breath and transformed in front of his eyes. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it was like she’d grown taller. Older.
Wiser.
“Hey.” Her voice was thin. “I came straight from the stables. I must look a mess.”
Mason shrugged. “It’s hot as hell out there. Haven’t seen anybody who isn’t a mess today.”
“Grace came to apologize,” Michael said, his voice low.
“What for?” Mason frowned.
