by Andre, Bella
Their hands were still linked as she slid his beneath her shirt, over the soft skin of her stomach, past her rib cage, finally stopping at her bra. “Touch me,” she breathed against his mouth barely a beat before she laid his hands over her full breasts. “I need you to touch me.”
He could feel the heat of her through smooth silk and only barely restrained himself from tearing it from her. Her nipples were hard against his palms, and though he tried to be gentle, he couldn’t control the urge to stroke, to tease.
She felt like heaven, but it wasn’t enough just to touch. He needed to see, too. “I want to touch all of you.”
She didn’t hesitate to reach for the hem of her T-shirt. But he had one hell of a fantasy that he was dying to see come true. So he moved his hands to hers again and lifted them to his mouth for a kiss before setting them above her head.
“I want you to hold still for me and let me have the pleasure of undressing you. Can you do that for me?”
Her eyes widened, and he watched her throat move before she answered. “Yes.”
It was, he found himself thinking, like unwrapping a much-longed-for gift. He was torn between tearing off her shirt or drawing it out slowly to savor the anticipation. Overpowering desire made the decision for him, and seconds later her T-shirt was on the living room rug next to his.
Lying before him wearing only a simple white silk bra, she stole his breath. “You’re beautiful, Grace.”
“I’ve always been curvy,” she said in a soft voice as she looked down to follow the path of his tanned hands up over her rib cage until he was barely stroking the undersides of her breasts through silk. “But since I had Mason I’m even curvier.”
“Yet another reason to love that kid,” he murmured as he shifted his palms to fully cup her. “Your body, your breasts, every part of you is perfect.”
“I haven’t been with anyone in a long time. Not since I found out I was pregnant.”
It meant more to Dylan than she would ever know that she was trusting him to be with her, not only since having Mason, but also since being so horribly betrayed. He felt the weight, the responsibility, of earning her trust, even as he gave silent thanks to the universe that he was being given this chance to prove that he was worthy of her.
Even if he couldn’t find the right words to persuade her to see just how beautiful she was, he could do it with a kiss. Slowly, as he loved her mouth with his own, he felt her relax again beneath him and knew right when she forgot to be shy because she twined her arms around his neck and arched up into him.
It was a crime for Grace to believe, for any reason, that she was “shut down.” All Dylan wanted tonight was to make her feel good. So good that she’d never be able to question her innate sensuality again.
Of course he wanted to protect her. Of course he would never do anything to harm her. But at the same time, he respected her too much to treat her like porcelain. Grace had already proved again and again that she wasn’t breakable.
Remembering the way her breath had gone shallow and her pupils had dilated when he’d asked her to keep her hands above her head while he undressed her, he lifted his mouth from hers. “It’s time to move your hands back over your head.”
Again, her breath quickened and her eyes darkened. He could read the thoughts that crossed her beautiful face: Did she dare trust him? Not only with being her first after such a long drought…but with this?
But then, just as he’d expected, the brave and determined expression that he’d already come to know so well returned. Slowly—and so seductively that he knew it didn’t matter who was giving the sensual commands, she would always be the one in charge—she untwined her hands from around his neck and lifted them back up to the arm of the couch.
“Whenever I touch you, your skin flushes,” he murmured as he grazed his fingertips over her, teasing both of them. “Did you know that?”
Watching the path of his hands over her, she said in a slightly breathless voice, “All you have to do is look at me and I heat up all over.”
He had to kiss her again, then, so that she’d know how much he liked hearing it. Knowing it.
“It’s the same for me,” he told her, shifting just enough so that she could feel how much he wanted her. How hot, how fast his blood was pumping, all for her. “You have no idea. No idea how much I want you.”
“Then show me, Dylan. Please, show me now.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Permission granted, Dylan didn’t let himself overthink his instincts or his fierce need for her—he simply took two handfuls of silk and tore. But in the end, she wasn’t the one left most stunned, he was...by the most perfect breasts he’d ever seen.
His hands beat his mouth to her by a split second, and then he was touching, stroking, kissing, licking. First at the sweet, soft flesh, and then the hardened tips again and again and again. He was starved for her, desperate for more, filled with a hunger that was like nothing he’d ever known.
Grace moaned his name as she arched her back so that he could have more of her. He had her jeans off within seconds and would have torn her panties in two just as he’d shredded her bra if he hadn’t needed to stop to take a mental picture of how pretty she looked. He covered the damp silk between her legs with his hand and let out a low curse as he realized how hot, how ready she was.
“Don’t stop,” she urged him. “Please don’t stop now. I need you to touch me, Dylan. I need it so badly. I’ve never needed like this. Never.”
“Neither have I.” It was the honest-to-God truth. Watching, feeling Grace come apart was going to destroy him.
Dylan was torn again between teasing and taking. But he also knew that the higher he took her before he let her go, the better she would feel, so he forced himself to shove back the animalistic urges that she stirred up in a way no one else ever had, and sway back toward building anticipation. So instead of shredding her panties, he stroked her through them instead.
“Dylan—” He loved hearing her breath hitch. “Oh God…just like that. Keep touching me just like that.”
She was gripping the arm of the couch behind her for dear life as she worked to push herself even harder against him, and it was hands-down the sexiest thing Dylan had ever seen in his life. Watching her get herself off against him, still wearing her panties, her full breasts bouncing with every breath, he grew so hard beneath the zipper of his jeans that he figured it would bust open soon.
She’d obviously loved it when he’d had her keep her hands above her head. Something told him a little dirty talk would go over just as well. “Come for me, Grace. Just like this, riding my hand. Let me see how beautiful you are when you let me help take you over the edge.”
Her lids finally fluttered shut, the wet lips she’d been licking opened slightly, and her body bowed in sweet surrender to pleasure.
Dylan had never seen anything so mind-blowingly beautiful in all his life as Grace shuddering against him in climax. How he’d gotten lucky enough to be the guy here with her, the guy she was trusting to give pleasure back to her, he’d never know. All he knew was that he would be thankful for it forever.
He didn’t wait for her to come down, couldn’t wait one more second to touch—and taste—her bare, wet, heated skin. Silently vowing to buy her new silk to replace this set, the animal inside of him finally came completely unleashed as he tore her panties off.
When he found her with his lips and tongue, she made a sound that he thought might have been his name, but he could barely hear over the roar of his pounding heartbeat in his ears. Where she’d been on the verge of going soft and boneless at the end of her first climax, as soon as he flicked his tongue over her, Dylan could feel her begin to rise again. Maybe it was too much to ask for tonight—for her to come out of a cold front straight into the burning heat of multiple orgasms—but Lord, he wanted it.
Wanted it for both of them.
“Again,” he urged her as he slicked his fingers, first one, then another, into her. “I ne
ed to feel you let go again, Grace.”
He looked up her body as he played over her with his hands, one between her thighs, the other on her luscious breasts, and nearly lost it when he saw how close she was to giving him another sweet release. She wasn’t fighting him, wasn’t fighting herself. On the contrary, it was just as she’d said and just as he’d hoped: She was reclaiming her sensuality by letting herself go with him tonight, straight to the edge of the limits she’d set just a little while ago. Limits he would never disrespect no matter how badly he wanted her. He would never hurt her. Never.
Dylan lowered his mouth back to her sweet skin at the same time as he thrust two fingers in. He curled them against her sensitive inner flesh just as she shattered, her muscles gripping tightly at his fingers as she rocked into his hand again and again.
After, he kissed the insides of both thighs, then made his way slowly back up her body while she worked to catch her breath. “That was...”
She broke off when he ran his hands up the lengths of her arms and threaded his fingers back through hers. He loved how soft, how relaxed she looked now as she blinked up at him.
“I’m a writer. I’m supposed to have words for the way you just made me feel. But I don’t.”
“You just did,” he told her right before he leaned in to kiss her, gentle again despite the unquenched fire raging in his blood. “And I’m right there with you, completely stunned and speechless by how beautiful you are.”
So beautiful, and so trusting, that he knew he needed to do the most difficult thing in the world.
“I should go.” He kissed her again. “Soon.” One more kiss and he forced himself to draw all the way back, bringing her up with him, naked and soft in his arms. “Now.”
“But you haven’t—”
He kissed her again before she could tear away the very thin thread of control he was still managing to hold on to. “And I won’t. Not tonight. Not until you’re ready for more.”
“I’m still not ready to have sex,” she said softly. “But that doesn’t mean you need to leave right now. So soon. Not before I touch you, too.”
He was tempted. So damned tempted that his hands shook as he picked up the blanket from the other arm of the couch and wrapped it around her. “When I said I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone else, I meant it. That’s why I’m not going to stay. Not tonight. Not until you can swear to me without even the slightest hesitation that you’re ready for more. Because when that day comes, you’d better believe I’m not going to walk away. Or stop. Not until both of us are so overfull with pleasure, with each other, that we’ll be raising the white flag together.”
“Thank you,” she said softly as she tucked the blanket more tightly around herself, then ran a hand through the hair he’d so enjoyed tangling in his hands as he’d kissed her. “Not only for a great night, start to finish, but also for leaving when it would be so much easier not to.”
They both stood, then, her bare feet peeking out from beneath the soft red blanket. What a beauty she was. And what a fool her ex had been not to love her.
He brushed his fingers across her cheek one last time, letting the pad of his thumb linger on her lush lower lip. “Sweet dreams, Grace.”
He had barely taken a step back when she surprised the hell out of him by gripping his T-shirt in her fist and yanking him into her. Her kiss was hot and hungry and just as sweet as their first kiss had been the night before, but full of a newfound confidence. The confidence he knew she must have possessed before the rich asshole from D.C. had done everything he could to stomp both her heart, and her life, to bits.
* * *
Dylan knew he couldn’t push Grace too hard, or too fast, but making himself walk away when he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone, or anything, in his entire life was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He’d loved seeing her blurry and needy and knowing it was because of his kisses, his caresses. But the high of her taste, her scent, the sweet little sounds she’d made as he teased her over the edge not just once but twice—none of those things could make him forget his fury at her ex or his worry that one of the Bentleys would come back one day to hurt Grace and Mason.
Dylan’s life had been a good one. He didn’t have any major demons, any serious darkness in his past, or inner conflicts that kept him tossing and turning at night.
Not until now.
Because he had her demons now.
He had never been a violent man. Ian, Rafe, and Adam had always been far more likely to use their fists. But for the first time ever, Dylan could barely think past the urge to track down the bastard who had hurt her and pound the guy’s face in.
He pulled out his cell phone as he slid behind the steering wheel and pulled his brothers into a group text.
NEED TO MEET ABOUT KEEPING GRACE AND MASON SAFE.
MY HOUSE. TONIGHT.
By the time he pulled into his garage, his brothers had dropped everything, just as he’d known they would, and were waiting for him.
“Tell us what’s going on,” Ian said.
Dylan let them inside, poured them all drinks, and pounded his before answering. “What do you know about the Bentleys in D.C.?”
“Fortune 500. Generations of money and charity work. Politics.”
Dylan downed another shot of whiskey in one gulp. “You can add something else to that list—scum. The guy who got Grace pregnant is a Bentley. But that’s not all they did.”
Adam leaned in, his expression hard. “What did they do to her?”
“They tried to break her, tried to pay her off to get rid of Mason, and to stay quiet about having anything to do with them.”
“The former senator is Mason’s father?” Rafe asked incredulously.
“No. The son. Richard Bentley. He accused her of trying to trick him into marriage.” He scowled. “As if anyone would actually want to marry into that sick and twisted family.”
Ian looked as furious as Dylan felt. “The bastard always seemed too slick.”
“The cleaner they seem on the surface,” Rafe agreed through his own clenched teeth, “the dirtier they always are underneath. What other details do you have?”
“Richard’s parents paid her a visit the day after she gave him the news and shoved their sin money at her while informing her that if she ever tried to go up against them, they’d use their name and charity and connections to crush her.” Adam cursed low and long as Dylan laid it all out for his brothers. “She didn’t use a dime of their money, didn’t want anything to do with them. It’s why she left D.C. So that they wouldn’t see that she had the baby, and so they wouldn’t try to hurt either her or Mason. She doesn’t think of Richard as the father. Not after what he and his family did.” Dylan’s blood was boiling. “Best case, she wants to believe she’s hidden and forgotten, but a family like that, they keep tabs on their mistakes. And they think they deserve anything. Everything they want. Whether they should have it or not. Especially now that the word on the street is that her ex and his new wife are having trouble conceiving. What if Richard and his family realize that Mason is the only Bentley heir they’re going to have? They’ll come after her to try to steal him away.” He swore. “I can’t just sit on the sidelines. I have to protect her and Mason. I can’t risk something happening to them.” Before Rafe could ask, he added, “She and I talked tonight about my pulling you guys in. Even though I know she wishes she could handle this situation all by herself, she’ll do anything to keep her son safe.”
“I’ll dig into the guy,” Rafe said. “His family, too. Whatever dirt there is on them, I’ll find it.”
“I’ll do the same on the business end,” Ian told him. “I’ll find out what else the family has their hands in.” And figure out where to yank to destroy them, was his unspoken promise. “I’ll also check in with Smith to see what he knows about the Bentleys.”
“And I’ll be in charge of keeping you from doing something stupid,” Adam said. “I know you’re furious. We all
are. But right now you need to let Rafe and Ian see what they can dig up, and be there for Grace and Mason. Because going after the bastard and his family now, without any intel or a plan, will likely only raise questions we don’t want the Bentleys asking about Grace or a baby they might not know anything about otherwise.”
Dylan appreciated the support of his brothers—it was why he’d called them together, because they’d always worked best as a team. And yet, even though he knew he shouldn’t head to D.C. and flatten all three of the Bentleys, he hated having to wait, hated having to be patient until they had more information. He had always been able to change what needed to be changed in his life, to fix what needed to be fixed. Sure, he was sometimes frustrated, or angry on his family’s behalf for things that had happened to them, but he also knew that whenever they needed help, they’d ask for it because they knew he would always be there for them.
Tonight was the first time Dylan had ever really struggled with the horrible futility of knowing that he couldn’t just make the darkness in Grace’s past go away.
“Since we can all see that Grace and Mason are already yours,” Ian told him, “that means they’re ours, too. So if her ex or his family try anything, you can count on all of us to take them down.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Grace had spent the last thirty-six hours thinking. Mulling. Dissecting.
And wanting. Always wanting.
Saturday night, she’d told Dylan more than she’d ever told anyone else about her past…and then she’d gone a little crazy in his arms. The best kind of crazy, she thought as she pulled into the parking lot of his boathouse. But crazy nonetheless. She’d hoped to have a firm handle on everything by now, but the truth was that she was still going around and around in her mind.
