Page 62 of Graciously His

“Don’t-fucking-stop,” I say all in one breath. “Fuck me until you come.”

I shrink back from his answering frown. He was angry before, colder than I’ve ever seen him. I brought him back by giving him the access he wanted; I figured this access, this risk of indissoluble closeness, would be enough to make up for what I did. But I’m crying because of my new knowledge. Because I didn’t have him to lean on when I really needed him. I want to give him everything now, and I want to hurt myself in the only way I have left.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Nate pulls out as fast as he plunged in, cock bobbing wetly as he steps away. He tucks it into his pants a second later, eyes flinty. “That bitch took everything she could from you, Grace. You are not giving her this.”

Before I can respond, he scoops me up off the desk.

“Nate, no,” I try to squirm out of his hold, “I want you to keep going.”

Ignoring my demands, he carries me to the bathroom at the back of the home gym. Then—I try to fight him off—he wedges both of us into the shower stall and flicks the water on full blast. And freezing. I shout, but Nate forces me still, cold water drenching us in seconds.

“You ready to come back to me, Grace?”

“Fuck you!” I try for venom, but the curse is weak.

Even though I slap at his hands, he shucks me out of my top, forcing me to stand naked under the cold spray.

“One more minute of cooling down, then we’ll go into the sauna. Want to count with me, Grace?”

“I hate you.”

“Say that again. Come on, like you mean it this time.”

“I fucking…” I swallow, trying to stop the tears choking me up. I’m hugging myself to keep from collapsing. I try again. “I fucking hate you, Nate.”

“One more time, little girl, then you get to go in the sauna.”

I shake my head. Because it’s a lie. He knows it and so do I.

“She—” I swallow, unable to say it.

“Yes, tell me.”

“Sh-she hates me.”

He shuts off the shower and I hear the echo of my ragged breaths in the tight space.

“Who hates you, Grace?”

I’m shaking with cold, with despair. “M-mother.”

“That’s right.” He takes my elbow and leads me into the sauna.

It’s just a bit bigger than the shower stall, with a short bench and an aura so Hadean I catch my breath. Nate sits down, taking me on his lap as I finally break down and sob.

“That’s right. You’re safe with me. You’re home with me.”

“I don’t h-hate you,” I whisper between sobs. “I don’t. I’m s-so sorry, Nate.”

He hooks a finger under my chin, tilting my face to his. “Don’t you think I know that?”

“But I said it. Over and over.”

“The only hatred here,” he squeezes me tight, “is against the bitch who hurt you. But she can’t touch you. You’re in your house, with your husband. If Constance Reid showed up at our gates, Shep would run her off. And if she kept coming, she would have to face me next.”

“Please,” I whisper, “I don’t want to think about her any more.”

He kisses my temple, lips lingering at my hairline. “What do you want to think about instead, Grace?”