“It was 3.78,” she admitted. “It was algebra that did me in.”
“I liked algebra.”
“You would.”
He smiled to himself. “That’s quite an achievement, Grace. Are you that much of a bookworm, or did your parents push you?”
“Not at all. And I’m not a bookworm. I just pushed myself and got very upset when I didn’t do my best.”
He thought about that a minute. “Do you think that might be related to the survivor’s guilt you mentioned earlier?”
Her gaze burned into the side of his face. “That’s very perceptive. And yes, I do. But I’ve been working on it, trying to manage my expectations.”
His heart went out to her. He wished he could see more than just the gleam of her eyes in the dark. “You don’t have to do anything to prove your value. You’re worthy just as you are—just as God made you. I know you know that already. Just wanted you to hear it from someone else.”
“Thank you.”
They stared at each other, the moment drawing out. Liquid heat hummed through his veins from her nearness alone. She was the only woman who’d ever had that kind of power over him.
“I feel like we’ve known each other longer than ten days.” She ducked her head.
If it had been any other woman he might’ve been put off that she’d counted the days. Instead he felt relieved. A little heady, actually. He hoped she never lost that sweet innocence. “Well, we’ve covered a lot of ground together.”
“Literally.”
“Quite literally.”
She tilted her head up, looking at him. “I had a great time tonight, Wyatt.”
He touched her face and leaned closer until their breaths mingled, because he had to have another taste of her. And soon.
“The best is yet to come,” he said softly.
“You—you can beat the Chris-Craft? Clem’s food? The autumn sky?”
His lips tipped upward. “Let’s give it a whirl.”
He took her mouth like a man starving. Because hewasstarving for her. Their kiss may have been only yesterday, but he wasn’t counting in days. He was counting in hours, in minutes. And it had seemed like a million of each had passed since he’d claimed her lips.
He deepened the kiss, and she yielded to him, clutching his shirt, hanging on for dear life. He was doing the same. Already fighting for breath, zero to sixty in ten seconds. That’s how it was with Grace. He was warm all over, tingling and buzzing and dizzy with want of her.
His hand moved to cup the back of her head. His fingers dove into the hair behind her ears, the silky strands threading between his fingers. Her feminine smell invaded his senses in the most wonderful way.
Her hands slid up his chest and around his neck, and she settled into his arms, into his chest...
Into his heart.
The tender thought made his breath catch. They were combustible together, was the problem—if one could consider that a problem. Andyes, moving too fast would be a mistake. He wanted to be careful with Grace. She deserved that.
A little restraint was a good thing. He couldn’t quite make himself believe it just now. Especially when she made that little mewling sound.Sweet heaven.
He gentled his hold. Slowed his pace. Managed—with the discipline of a saint—to dial it back a notch. He took small delicious nibbles, letting his mouth wander to the corners of her lips, each side. Then to her cheek, her jaw, the fragrant curve of her neck. She tilted her head to the side, the curtain of her hair falling aside as she made room for him.
He glided his nose back up her neck—that smell. He was already addicted. He straightened, brushing her nose with his, letting his heart settle in the silence. He gradually became aware of the gentle rocking of the boat, the whisper of the breeze, the distant ping of hardware on a flagpole.
Her fingers moved at the back of his neck, stirring every cell to life. “To be honest, I thought maybe last time was a fluke.”
Her ragged voice made him want to make her breathless again. “Me too.”
