Page 28 of His Saving Grace

Chapter 6

Masonwashavingthe most amazing dream. Other than the pain pulsing at the base of his skull, it was the best dream he’d had in months.

Someone was pressed against him. Someone that smelled delicious. Someone delicate and soft and warm. A woman.

He skimmed his fingers over the smooth flesh of her bare abdomen, tracing the indent of her bellybutton. She shivered and squirmed. He pressed closer, wedging his thigh between her legs. A soft sigh escaped her and she melted against him.

He stroked his fingers upwards, supple skin giving way to…scratchy lace?

Annoyance spiked through him. What kind of sex dream was this? She should be naked. Thankfully, it was easy enough to overcome. He slipped his hand under the elastic of her bra, her breast a perfect handful. He squeezed and her nipple pearled against his palm.

She moaned and wiggled her hips. The blood in his veins turned molten. She pressed her ass back against his hardening cock. Her top leg wrapped around his, and she rocked her hips, sliding along his thigh. A rough groan rumbled from his throat. He brushed a kiss against the back of her neck. Trailed his lips along her warm skin, moving to her shoulder. And then got a mouthful of fabric.

Was she wearing a t-shirt?

Okay, something was seriously wrong with this dream.

He forced his eyes open. Too bright morning light pierced his eyeballs. His eyes watered. He lifted his head and blinked, trying to get them to focus. It took a moment, but everything eventually came into slightly blurry view.

He was in his bedroom at the house. A quick glance at the clock on the nightstand showed it was way too early to be up.

And Grace was in his bed. Wrapped in his arms.

She was asleep, emitting a soft snore with every couple of breaths. Her black hair was spread out behind her, his face had been partially buried in it.

How the hell had they gotten here?

His brain was still asleep, and possibly still a little drunk, so it took a minute or so for the pieces to float to the surface. He went to visit Izzy and got side-tracked by Becky Lynn. Then he headed to the Saddle to get drunk. Which he’d accomplished quickly and rather efficiently. That’s where things got hazy.

At one point, Simon and Grace had come to get him. And…had he almost kissed Grace in the bar? Maybe? Simon had left, and Grace had been tasked with driving him home. Only they hadn’t gone home. He’d taken her to the cemetery.

He groaned at his stupidity. What had he said? What had he done?

Grace sighed and stretched. Her hard nipple brushed against his palm, and he made a pleased sound in the back of his throat, his hand squeezing the breast he still cupped.

She stiffened, her head twisting so she could look at him over her shoulder. Her eyes were like saucers, her mouth open in surprise. His gaze caught on her mouth, her pink lips moist and begging for a kiss.

Before he could move, she shot out of the bed like a rocket, practically leaving a vapor trail in her haste. She stared at him from across the room, smoothing her t-shirt over her stomach. During the night, it had ridden up over her middle—and may or may not have been helped along by his roving hands.

“I… I’m not sure… I mean…” Her cheeks colored the cutest shade of pink. She ran her fingers through her disheveled hair and glanced at the bedroom door.

The need to assure her nothing happened—he didn’t think anyway—burned the back of his tongue. He was just about to say it, when there was a quick knock on the door. She jumped at the sound and then Jake popped his head in without waiting for an invitation.

“Hey, Mase, I was wondering—” His gaze landed on Grace. He looked from Grace to Mason and then back again, a grin spreading across his face. “Umm, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was interrupting something. Sorry.” He disappeared back into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

Grace’s gaze flew back to his and she opened her mouth, shook her head, and closed it. Without a word, she turned and flung the door open, racing down the hallway and out of sight.

Grace raced through the bedroom door and down the hallway like the devil himself was blowing his scorching breath across the back of her neck. Her cheeks were on fire and her heart was lodged somewhere between her chest and the ceiling. What the hell happened? How did she end up sleeping the entire night in Mason’s bed?

You fell asleep, idiot. And had the best damn night of sleep you’ve had in months.

That was not the point. She should have left last night, after he’d fallen asleep. But no, she hadn’t, and now they’d been caught. Not that they’d been doing anything.

Her breast tingled, the heat of his large hand lingering on her skin. Okay, so they hadn’t exactly been doing nothing. That stupid band, sitting low in her belly since the bar last night—or maybe since the first time she laid eyes on Mason—pulled tight again. Her center throbbed, the feel of his hard thigh pressed between her legs imprinted on her flesh.

She had to stop thinking about it. Her hormones weren’t running the show. No matter how good it felt to be wrapped in his arms, or how badly she wanted to rub against him… maybe turn over to face him and press her lips against his. Taste him. Let her hands roam over all that taut flesh…

Dammit! That is not, not thinking about it!