Page 60 of The Sugar Maple Inn

“If you want me to stop,” Reese said, his voice husky, “say it now.”

Grace looked up at him. At the man who’d just confessed his deepest fears. Who’d kissed her like she mattered. Who was currently giving her an out even though she could feel exactly how much he didn’t want her to take it. She understood why he said that now. He wanted to be sure she was ready to break. He didn’t realize she’d already broken though, so many times.

“Do not stop.”

He nodded then kissed her again and this time there was no hesitation. No pulling back. Just heat and want. His mouth moved down her jaw, her neck, finding the pulse point that made her gasp. His hand slid up her thigh, pushing the hem of the nightgown higher and Grace arched into the touch. Then he was suddenly pulling it over her head in one motion. She went to cover herself but he pulled her hands away. The look on his face was worth every moment of self-consciousness as he looked down at her. Like he’d been given something he didn’t deserve. Like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Grace.”

His mouth was on her breast before she could respond as his hand palmed her other breast, thumb circling her nipple, the dual sensation making her moan.

“Like that?” His voice was smug.

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Too late.” He bit down gently on her nipple and Grace’s hips bucked involuntarily. “And I think you like it when I’m cocky.”

He wasn’t wrong. God help her, he wasn’t wrong.

His mouth moved lower. Down her ribs. Across her stomach. And Grace suddenly realized where he was heading.

Then he stopped, teasing her, and she had a sudden memory of WildTrailGuide:

I want you waiting, aching, knowing I’m the only one who decides when it ends.

“Been thinking about this since I saw you on those stairs,” Reese said, pushing the memory away. “About how you’d taste. How you’d sound when you come.”

“Reese! I—”

Grace’s voice cut off as his mouth found her through her underwear. Just the suggestion of contact, fabric between them, but it was enough to make her gasp.

“Reese—”

“Tell me what you want.” His fingers hooked into the waistband. “Need to hear you say it.”

Grace should probably be embarrassed. Should probably maintain some dignity. But she was so far past dignity at this point it wasn’t even visible in the rearview mirror.

“I want your tongue on me,” she said. “No barriers. Now.”

He pulled her underwear down and off in one smooth motion. Then his hands were on her thighs, spreading them wider and Grace felt suddenly, completely exposed. She looked down at his golden head between her legs, his huge hands on her thighs then felt the beautiful flat of his tongue work over the most sensitive part of her.

He knew what he was doing: that much was immediately, deliciously obvious. His tongue moved with purpose, finding exactly the right pressure, the right rhythm.

Her hands fisted in his hair. Her hips moved against his mouth. And the sounds coming out of her were absolutely going to mortify her later but right now she didn’t care because—

“Oh God, Reese, I’m—”

He sucked hard on her clit and Grace came apart, pleasure slamming through her in waves that made her vision white out. She might have said his name. Might have said something else. Hard to tell when sensations like that were throbbing their way through you.

When she finally came back to herself, Reese was kissing his way back up her body, looking extremely pleased with himself.

“Smug bastard,” Grace managed.

“Well deserved, though.”

He wasn’t wrong about that either.

Grace blinked then. Realized there were actual tears forming in her eyes.