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“Please, God, tell me we’re alone in this house.”

“Everyone’s already gone. We’re supposed to meet them at—”

“Your grandpa, too?”

“Yes, he left—”

I don’t let her finish, crushing my mouth to hers while lifting her with one arm. She lets out a squeak that is barely audible over the roaring in my ears. I try to think of somewhere to go, retracing my steps in my mind to the living room.

It’s too far. The island will have to do.

Her hands grip my hair as I slide her dress up to pool around her hips and rip her underwear in half. They fall away, and my fingers slip inside, finding her wet.

“Jesus, Grace, you’re soaked.”

“It was all you.”

Pride beats in my chest, knowing I affect her the same way she does me. “I’ll apologize now.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m about to fuck you hard. Not sure I can be sweet.”

Her head jerks to mine, her eyes on fire. “Fuck me then.”

The words increase the roaring in my ears, and I fumble with my belt and shorts until I’m free and pushing inside of her.

Heaven… that’s what this feels like. Pure heaven.

Her sexy moans fill the room, encouraging me to thrust with brutal force. I picture her leaning over the counter as I pound into her from behind, but I’m too gone to reposition us. She flexes up, bringing her hands down hard on the counter with a thud.

With each stroke, I get desperate for release. We’ve had sex so many times, and each one has been out of this world. But today ranks up there at the top. I’ve never been this rough, and guilt creeps in until she starts talking.

“Harder, Nick.”

“Grace,” I ground out through clenched teeth.

“Harder. Don’t stop!”

I’m helpless to stop when she screams my name, clutching so tight my balls ache. I come hard, thrusting as deep as possible and feeling the release running through my veins. My vision goes black, and my head becomes heavy. I drop my face to her shoulder, loosening my grip on her hips.

“I like the boots, Sweet Peach.” I finally find my voice. “Thinking maybe you should wear them more often.”

“Miami is more stilettos and straps than cowboy boots.”

“Let me rephrase. Maybe you should wear them more often for me.”

“Is this going to happen every time I do?”

“Oh yeah, if I have anything to do with it.” I raise my head, and something on the counter catches my eye. Streaks of pink cover the white surface.

“Grace, baby, I think we made a mess.”

She lifts her head and inspects her hand. “I think it happened somewhere between ‘harder’ and ‘don’t stop’. The pie was a casualty.”

I stand, straightening us both, and bring her hand to my mouth. She lays her head against my chest, watching me lick the sweet dessert off every inch of her hand.

“It’s almost as delicious as you.”

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