probably best if she didn’t have it, but she couldn’t help herself.
“Tray?” she whispered.
When his blue eyes slammed into hers, she had her answer and her body fairly sighed with relief: He had loved his wife, but he wasn’t in love with her anymore. He had already let go.
“Are you uncomfortable talking about her?” asked Grace.
“I never have been before.”
Did he realize that his hands were gently massaging her toes and foot, easing the tension that had built up quickly as a result of her rigorous exercise and sudden injury? His fingers felt like heaven on her tight muscles and she sighed, leaning back and closing her eyes. “That feels so nice. I’m sorry I make you uncomfortable.”
He took a deep breath and sighed, just as she had a moment before. They were silent for several long, strangely charged and yet relaxing moments before he finally answered, “It’s not all bad.”
“What isn’t?” She opened her eyes.
“Making someone uncomfortable.” He swallowed. “Been a while since any woman got under my skin so fast, Red.”
I’m under his skin? Red? Her blood rushed, sluicing through her veins, making her feel hot and hyper-aware—of him, of herself, of being alone together. It was such a bold and sexy thing to say, of course she had to deflect it, because she couldn’t seem to let herself just relax and enjoy this man. “But I’m sure you have a girlfriend, don’t you?”
He turned away from her, looking back down at her foot, and again she had her unspoken answer. Yes, he was seeing someone.
“I don’t care,” she suddenly blurted out.
His hands froze, his head snapped up and his eyes searched her face. “Be careful, Grace.”
“No,” she answered. “I don’t want to be careful.”
“What do you want?”
Her heart thundered and pleaded. She held his eyes, her mind vaulting forth through time to the here , the present , the now . She somehow managed to smile at Tray, marveling at her bravery.
“I want you to kiss me.”
“You sure?”
She dragged her bottom lip into her mouth, holding it between her teeth for a moment before releasing it. “Positive.”
His eyes flared, darkening as he nodded at her almost imperceptibly, in agreement and acceptance. He lifted her feet and she bent her knees, giving him space to stand, before straightening her legs on the couch again. He towered over her, staring down at her, his face inscrutable and a little wild, and Grace had the feeling—again—of being utterly naked to him. Her skin flushed and for the first time since she asked him to kiss her, she dropped his eyes.
Tray bent his knees to squat beside her, his hands reaching up to cup her cheeks as he had in the snow, forcing her to look up at him.
“So soft.”
She licked her lips, her heartbeat so fast and loud in her ears, she wondered if she’d pass out before she got to feel his lips touch down on hers.
“Say it again, Red,” he demanded, his eyes hungry, almost high, as he leaned his face closer to hers—so close she could tell his breathing was fast and uneven because it fanned her lips.
“Kiss me,” she murmured, and he leaned forward, touching his lips to hers.
She closed her eyes as he caught her bottom lip between his, pursing lightly, slowly, before releasing it. His lips were warm and soft, but strong too, and for the first time in Grace’s life, she felt the marvelous rush of heat that she’d only read about in books or seen acted-out in movies, and she had this satisfied “ah-ha” moment of finally knowing what all the fuss was about.
She leaned forward and placed her hands lightly on his shoulders, her fingers curling just a little to pull him forward, and she heard him drop to his knees beside her, leaning forward, his chest settling upon hers as she lay back and the kiss deepened.
She skimmed her hands up his shoulders to his neck, her fingers trembling from the sensation of his hot skin beneath her sensitive pads. He groaned into
“Tray?” she whispered.
When his blue eyes slammed into hers, she had her answer and her body fairly sighed with relief: He had loved his wife, but he wasn’t in love with her anymore. He had already let go.
“Are you uncomfortable talking about her?” asked Grace.
“I never have been before.”
Did he realize that his hands were gently massaging her toes and foot, easing the tension that had built up quickly as a result of her rigorous exercise and sudden injury? His fingers felt like heaven on her tight muscles and she sighed, leaning back and closing her eyes. “That feels so nice. I’m sorry I make you uncomfortable.”
He took a deep breath and sighed, just as she had a moment before. They were silent for several long, strangely charged and yet relaxing moments before he finally answered, “It’s not all bad.”
“What isn’t?” She opened her eyes.
“Making someone uncomfortable.” He swallowed. “Been a while since any woman got under my skin so fast, Red.”
I’m under his skin? Red? Her blood rushed, sluicing through her veins, making her feel hot and hyper-aware—of him, of herself, of being alone together. It was such a bold and sexy thing to say, of course she had to deflect it, because she couldn’t seem to let herself just relax and enjoy this man. “But I’m sure you have a girlfriend, don’t you?”
He turned away from her, looking back down at her foot, and again she had her unspoken answer. Yes, he was seeing someone.
“I don’t care,” she suddenly blurted out.
His hands froze, his head snapped up and his eyes searched her face. “Be careful, Grace.”
“No,” she answered. “I don’t want to be careful.”
“What do you want?”
Her heart thundered and pleaded. She held his eyes, her mind vaulting forth through time to the here , the present , the now . She somehow managed to smile at Tray, marveling at her bravery.
“I want you to kiss me.”
“You sure?”
She dragged her bottom lip into her mouth, holding it between her teeth for a moment before releasing it. “Positive.”
His eyes flared, darkening as he nodded at her almost imperceptibly, in agreement and acceptance. He lifted her feet and she bent her knees, giving him space to stand, before straightening her legs on the couch again. He towered over her, staring down at her, his face inscrutable and a little wild, and Grace had the feeling—again—of being utterly naked to him. Her skin flushed and for the first time since she asked him to kiss her, she dropped his eyes.
Tray bent his knees to squat beside her, his hands reaching up to cup her cheeks as he had in the snow, forcing her to look up at him.
“So soft.”
She licked her lips, her heartbeat so fast and loud in her ears, she wondered if she’d pass out before she got to feel his lips touch down on hers.
“Say it again, Red,” he demanded, his eyes hungry, almost high, as he leaned his face closer to hers—so close she could tell his breathing was fast and uneven because it fanned her lips.
“Kiss me,” she murmured, and he leaned forward, touching his lips to hers.
She closed her eyes as he caught her bottom lip between his, pursing lightly, slowly, before releasing it. His lips were warm and soft, but strong too, and for the first time in Grace’s life, she felt the marvelous rush of heat that she’d only read about in books or seen acted-out in movies, and she had this satisfied “ah-ha” moment of finally knowing what all the fuss was about.
She leaned forward and placed her hands lightly on his shoulders, her fingers curling just a little to pull him forward, and she heard him drop to his knees beside her, leaning forward, his chest settling upon hers as she lay back and the kiss deepened.
She skimmed her hands up his shoulders to his neck, her fingers trembling from the sensation of his hot skin beneath her sensitive pads. He groaned into
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