Saving Grace (Serve and Protect Series) (22 page)

She crept to her bed, fumbling with the bedding a few seconds before realizing Ray had re-made it. That made tears sting her eyes. Blinking rapidly, she peeled the covers back and slid in.

“Grace?”

Her heart lurched. In the gloom, she could see he was sitting up, the covers pooled in his lap. “What?”

“Can I come over there?”

She tried to say something, but her throat closed up.

“I just want to hold you.”

God, it hurt. Her throat. Her heart.

“There’s such a howling in my head. If I could just hold you ... if you’d just hold onto me....”

Unable to speak, she threw the covers back. He covered the distance to her bed in seconds.

The arms that came around her were strong and urgent, but she felt a tremor run through him as he gathered her close, tucking her head into his chest.

“I’m sorry.”

Fresh tears welled. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not,” he rasped, his ragged breath stirring her hair. “I’m so sorry....”

“Hush.” Her tears spilled then, falling hot between them. “Don’t lets talk about it now.”

He tipped her head up, using his thumb to dry her cheek. Then he kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her nose, and then, very gently, her lips. His tenderness pierced her, opening the floodgates anew.

“Ah, Grace.” He kissed her wet face, then pulled her close again.

She went blindly, one hand pressed against his chest, palm open, the other sliding around his back to draw him closer.

Oh, the warm musk smell of him, so familiar. And the wide expanse of his chest, smooth here, hair-roughened there, the breadth of his shoulders, the thrum of his pulse beneath her ear. Lord, she’d missed it all. But most of all, she’d missed the absolute and complete security she felt in his arms.

“Don’t let go.” His words were muffled by her hair.

As if she could. She tightened her grip on his back. “I won’t.”

He drew the covers up over them, settling her more comfortably against him.

Though her face was still wet, Grace smiled in the darkness. With his shoulder for a pillow, she closed her eyes. Not that she was going to sleep. Not with this unexpected gift of genuine closeness to be inhaled, savored, memorized....

When Grace awoke, someone was showering in the unit next door and the grey tinge of dawn had begun to invade the room. But it wasn’t the sound of the running water that woke her. Nor was it the fingers of light creeping under the drapes that caused her to stir in her sleepy, warm cocoon.

It was the hand on her breast. It was the wanting in her belly, so fierce she thought she might die of it.

Ray.

She opened her eyes slowly. With her head tucked into his shoulder, she had an excellent view of his hand, which shaped and kneaded her left breast through the thin t-shirt she wore. The sight of his tanned, blunt fingers moving so cleverly on the white fabric was almost as stimulating as the actual feel. Almost. He dragged a thumb across her tightening nipple. She moaned, then moaned again when his fingers came back to pinch the small crest into a hard point.

She tipped her head back to find him waiting for her. In the rapidly lightening room, she could read the hunger in his eyes. Not that the impressive erection jutting against her belly left much doubt about the matter.

“Let me make love to you.” His voice was thick, with need. “Please, Grace. Let me do it right this time. I’ll make it good.”

She swallowed a lump in her throat. “You always made it good.”

He held her gaze. “I hear a but in there.”

But what? His lovemaking had always been considerate, tender and oh-so-skilled. She knew women who’d crawl over broken glass for what Ray gave her.

“Grace?”

She grimaced, searching for the best way to express it. “I guess I wished you’d let me climb down from my pedestal once in a while.”

His fingers closed around her breast. “You’re my wife. I just wanted to treat you with respect.”

“The highest respect you could pay me would be to share yourself with me. Your
whole
self.”

She saw something stir in his eyes and held her breath, but he dropped his eyelids, his hands going still.

“I don’t think I’m any good at this.”

“I just want you to let me in. Here.” She touched his temple. “And here,” she added softly, touching his chest.

He opened his eyes, and they burned with uncertainty. “Oh, Grace, honey, you don’t know what you’re asking. There are ugly parts, so many of them. Parts I don’t even want to think about, parts I wish I didn’t have.”

“We all have those parts.” She touched his face then, smoothing his brow, then trailing her fingers down his beard-roughened face. “You think I imagined I’d married a saint?”

He caught her hand. “What do you want from me, Grace?”

That was easy. “Everything.” She wanted to touch his chest, but since he held her hand prisoner, she insinuated one leg between his legs, delighting in what it did to his breathing. “I don’t want you to hold anything back. I don’t want you to be so careful with me all the time.”

“Grace....”

“I want you to give me as much as I can take, and then I want you to give me more.”

“Like I did last night?”

His voice was rough, laced with self-disgust. God help her, she’d never loved him more.

“Last night could have been wonderful, if you’d been there with me. Really there.”

Desire blazed in his eyes again, hot enough to singe her. She pulled her hand free from his, sliding it beneath the covers to encircle his erection. His flesh leapt at her touch and he surged against her hand, but again he checked himself.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he gritted.

“You won’t.” She stroked him, delighting in the contradiction. Steel and velvet. “I’m not a doll. I won’t break.”

“The baby....”

The baby. She’d forgotten. Then she remembered the ER doctor’s advice. “Sex is perfectly safe. The doctor said so.”

He needed no further prompting. One wrench and the blankets were gone. Then they were rolling on the sheets, hands tugging at each other’s nightclothes, baring skin. As soon as they were naked, he rolled her under him. She would have slid her arms around him to welcome him, but he captured them, lifting them over her head. Pinning them there, he kissed her, deep and thrilling. Too soon, he pulled away, rolling off her. She tried to follow to preserve the friction of his moist skin on hers, but he held her fast.

“Wait, sweetheart. I want to look at you.”

She thought the wanting couldn’t get any worse, but she was wrong. Watching his eyes turn hotter as he surveyed her trembling body, she felt everything liquify.

“I love your breasts.”

“They’re too big,” she said automatically.

“They’re perfect. Look at them.”

She looked down and had to concede they looked different like this, with her body stretched like a bowstring, arms uplifted. Their rosy tips tightened instantly, as though his gaze had brushed them. Couldn’t he see they needed touching? “Please....”

“Please what?”

“Please touch me.”

And he did. One hand holding her arms above her head, he touched her with the other hand. Beside him, she twisted, burning, dying, as he tweaked first one nipple, then the other, pinching, shaping, squeezing. She hardly recognized her own voice begging for more, asking for his mouth, his lips, his teeth. Then, in one swift move, he straddled her.

The length of his erection rested in the seam between her closed thighs, inciting a sharp new need. Moaning, she tried to pull him down, desperate to have him inside her. But he pushed her arms back, using his hands to weigh them down as he swooped to catch the up-turned tip of one breast with his mouth.

Oh, God!
He’d pleasured her breasts before, taken long, leisurely delight there. But this was different. He came at her with hot, rough, frantic need, first one breast, then the other. She arched against him, sensations ripping through her like lightning.

“Please, Ray!”

He answered her plea by sliding down her body, his mouth racing over wildly sensitized skin, biting, sucking, kissing, his hands streaking over the wet path his mouth left. The swell of her rib cage, the slight curve of her belly. Onward to the curve of her hip, the smooth length of her thigh, the sensitive backs of her knees, down to her slender ankles. Then back up, up, up....

“Ray!” She clamped her legs together, more from reflex than conscious decision.

“Let me, Grace. I want to taste you.”

Her ingrained inhibition warred with profound excitement. The latter would have won, but he didn’t wait for the outcome of the bout. Parting her thighs, he pressed his open mouth to the heart of her femininity. The shock went straight to her core.

“Oh, God, Ray! Ray. Ray?”

He turned his head and bit her thigh gently. “Ray what?”

“Don’t stop!”

He didn’t. With lips and tongue and fingers, he pleasured her until she flew apart, trembling, shaking, crying. Only then did he slide back up her perspiration-dewed skin to cover her mouth with his, letting her taste her own fulfillment.

At last, she was able to slide her arms around him, pull him down. She’d already found her release, but she was mindful that he hadn’t. Catching his engorged member, she guided him to her entrance. The feel of him pushing into her even as her muscles contracted and pulsed with her dying orgasm felt like nothing she’d ever experienced. He felt huge. He was invading her. Oh, God, she’d never be able to take him. Yet she’d die if she didn’t have him now, this minute.

“Ray....”

He covered her mouth again and sank into her, burying himself to the hilt. She gasped. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes.

“Okay?”

She let her breath escape. “Okay. Better than okay.”

“Good enough to come again?”

Again? Impossible. “I can’t.”

“You can. For me, you can.”

And so saying, he set about proving her completely, totally, deliciously wrong. He filled her. He completed her. And he brought her to another sobbing climax before he took the same leap.

Afterward, Grace cradled his crushing weight in her arms, savoring every inch, every ounce of him. Dear Lord, she loved him so much. No wonder she’d sacrificed her own happiness to keep him safe from that lunatic, Landis. She’d die before she let that murderous bastard get at Ray.

Landis
. Viktor Landis.

Her body went still as it came back to her in a rush.

Human smuggling, forced labor and Lord knew what else. She’d stumbled on it, trying to research what was to have been a comprehensive piece for the newspaper on integrating landed immigrants into the local community.

Oh, God. Oh, no.

That’s why she’d been leaving town.

That’s where the money came from.

She was supposed to leave for good. If she did, Landis said he’d let her live. If she didn’t go and stay gone, he’d kill her.

But not before he killed Ray.

And just in case she had any ideas about going to the cops for help, he’d feed the get-away money into Ray’s account, leaving a trail the shallowest of investigations would disclose. People loved to think the worst of each other when it came right down to it, Landis had smirked. Especially if he, Landis, confirmed it with just the right degree of sheepishness. There’d be no difficulty convincing them Ray was dirty, he’d assured her. If she didn’t comply, not only would her handsome husband die, he’d die marked as a corrupt cop.

“I love you, Grace.” Ray’s voice was gravel, guttural, pulling her back. “Whatever happened, I don’t care.” His arms tightened around her, cutting off her breath. “I just want you back. I want
us
back.”

Grace returned his crushing bear hug with a desperation of her own.

He lifted his head and looked deep in her eyes. “You hear me, Grace? I don’t goddamn care. You’re
mine
. I love you.”

Tears spurted. “I love you, too.”

“We’ll work it out, about the baby. Okay? I’ll take care of you, no matter what.”

The baby. It was his, of course. There’d never been another man. She’d made it up to keep him from following her.
Mother of God
. Her heart was breaking.

“Okay,” she agreed.

He rolled off her, pulling her into another fierce hug. She returned the pressure, wishing she could hold on to him like this forever. Wishing she could enjoy the security of his embrace tomorrow and the day after and the day after that.

Except she knew she couldn’t. She had to leave him again. But this time, it wouldn’t be good enough just to get out of town. It was far too late for that. This time, she had to do something about Landis, before he did something about Ray.