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PROLOGUE
GRACE
Life was good; and tonight, my hard work building a beauty empire would be rewarded and all of my dreams would come true. Well, almost all of them, because babies didn’t arrive like the award I would receive this evening, and my clock was ticking.
I pinned the last bobby pin into my hair and lowered my arms. Curled strands glittered in gold, forming a flowing fire. The hair creation matched the sparkling dress hugging my body. My mother had called in a favor to a designer from Paris, and a month later, the custom-made gold-chained gown fit me like a glove.
A loud splash drew my attention to the outside. I paced to the balcony where the setting sun bathed the backyard in orange. Below, Hunter was walking up the pool steps, carrying what looked like another toad in his hands. He crossed the lawn to the lily pond and crouched. A giant toad hopped off his hand and into the water. That made the third toad he’d saved this week.
He rinsed his hands in the pond water, shook them off, and stood, pulling his fingers through his hair. The column of his back muscles twisted. He turned around. The permanent tan from the time he’d spent landscaping the backyard glowed in the evening light. His beautiful chest, dusted with hair, was young and firm, with room to grow.
I watched him cross the lawn back to the house. He stopped and looked up to the balcony where I stood. His piercing blue eyes were drowning with sadness. His head fell forward, and my heart sank.
I’d known Hunter Silver since his diaper days. He was my uncle’s nephew on my mother’s side, and our families spent every holiday, birthday, and celebration together. And boy, had he grown up fast. For his eighteenth birthday, I bought Hunter a bike and asked for a few lessons on my broken Harley, which he was eager to fix that evening. Let’s just say, he fixed more than my bike. He’d begun as my boy toy, and three years later, he was saving frogs from my pool.
As soon as he stepped inside, I hitched my dress to my thighs and hurried to meet him downstairs. Hunter wouldn’t reject a quickie before I left, and I was ovulating.
“Hey, baby. Another toad in my pool?”
His beautiful blue eyes met mine. Jesus, he would make a gorgeous baby. He stood, dripping wet, his gaze unapologetically slithering down my body. I swallowed with an audible click, drawing my tongue over my dry lips. His shorts clung to his muscled thighs and his healthy dick, lifting my arousal and setting my blood on fire.
“Holy fuck, Grace. You look stunning. Like a queen. My Queen.”
I twirled in the spot, and his gloom vanished. The half-smile and two dimples were a good start.
“You like it?” I asked, wiggling my ass.
“What are you supposed to be? An Oscar on fire?”
He stepped closer, his eyes swimming with lust, and a little bit of disappointment.
“Exactly.” I cleared my throat.
“But you’re not getting an Oscar.”
“This award is the highest honor I’ll ever get, so it’s like an Oscar to me.”
“You look beautiful. The dress is the perfect choice. Wish I could be there to see you accept the award.” He kissed the tip of my nose.
The punch in my gut briefly knocked me off task. I stepped closer and dragged my manicured nails down his drying chest. “What can I do to make you feel better?”
“I’ll ruin your makeup if I have my way with you”
The rumble from his chest vibrated along my skin. I pushed my thigh through the slit in my dress and lifted the other side, exposing my panties.I was willing to beg him to ruin me, but if I did, he would, and I’d be late. But there were other ways.
“If you stay below the belt, you won’t ruin my hair or makeup.”
His mouth twisted into a sly grin, and my heart kicked up a beat. He leaned into my ear and dragged his lips over the cartilage, whispering, “What if I want to ruin you, Grace?”
Yes.
His fingers skimmed up my arm, and his needy breath drew shivers down my spine.
“Touch me. There.” My lips trembled over his.
He slid his hand through the slit in my dress and up my thigh. I gripped the dinette table as he dipped his palm down the front of my panties. My eyes rolled back in my head and my legs instinctively opened. His long, skilled fingers dragged through my wet flesh, and stopped.
“Aren’t you ovulating, Grace?” he asked, withdrawing his hand.
