An Ounce of Hope (A Pound of Flesh #2)(63)

She laughed and moved her hand so that it rested on his bare stomach. His muscles immediately clenched. He cleared his throat. “You kept my T-shirt on.”

Grace hummed in reply. “You have a tattoo.”

He sighed. “I do.”

Grace’s eyes opened slowly, their prior haziness fading to something more sensitive. “Wanna talk about it?”

Did he want to talk about it? Not really. But Max knew there would come a time when he would have to open up, to tell people about his past and what he’d been through. Who better to start with than Grace, with her innocent questions and open face. Besides, she’d shared such a dark and painful part of herself when she told him about Rick.

“Christopher was my son,” he said quietly, the words scratching his throat like fractured pieces of his heart slipping up from his chest.

Grace became very still. The only movement the gentle sway of the hammock. “Was.”

Max turned his head, looking straight at her. “He died.”

A small breath escaped Grace’s lips. She pulled her hand away from his stomach but he clasped her wrist quickly.

“Don’t,” he urged. He placed it back, needing the contact while he told his story, the story of Christopher, the story of Lizzie, the story of why he’d taken the path he had and why he was the way he was.

Grace stayed silent throughout, her fingers moving ever so slightly against his skin when he described losing Christopher and then Lizzie. The drugs, the drinking, the women, all of it spewed from him as they lay on his father’s hammock under the shade of the trees.

It was minutes after he’d finished before Grace spoke. “I’m so very sorry, Max.”

He shrugged. “Don’t be.”

“How could she just leave you like that?” She lifted onto her elbow, looking down at him, and moved her hand to his heart, pressing carefully. “This has been hurt so much.”

“S’why it doesn’t work anymore.” He licked his lips and his eyelids fluttered closed when her fingers whispered across his nipple.

“Sure it does,” she retorted with a gentle shake of her head. “You just don’t realize it.” Her hand traveled down the center of his chest, pausing briefly at his belly button. “You’re very special, Max.”

He gripped her waist gently, hoping to God that she’d move her hand farther down. Despite the gravity of the conversation they’d just had, his need for her touch was overwhelming.

“Gracie.” Her stare remained glued to the waistband of his shorts and the undeniable shape of his cock, as it grew hard under her attention. “Touch me.”

Gradually her hand shifted, over the material of his shorts, over his erection, drawing a hiss from his lips. Her touch was tentative, careful, causing Max to lift his hips to chase a firmer grip, a rougher stroke.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, rubbing his palm down her back. “That’s it.”

His words seemed to light her confidence, as she pressed against him harder, gripping him. Although the feel of her was amazing, Max’s body moved with ripples of frustration, wanting her to push his clothes away and jerk him hard. But he didn’t push. Instead, he pulled down the front of the T-shirt she wore as well as the edge of her swimsuit and sucked eagerly on her nipple, earning a deep moan from her throat. Her nipples were as dark as chocolate and, just as they had before, pebbled perfectly against his tongue. As he had hoped, Grace’s hand gripped him harder, rubbing stronger until his hips and hers were writhing, seeking out more friction, to make the hammock sway.

“Let me touch you,” Max gasped into her neck, the salt on her sweet skin driving him beyond distraction. “Fuck, let me put my fingers in you.”

“God.” Her head fell back at his words, leaving him to lick and suck up to her ear and down to her collarbone.

Taking her reaction as permission, Max moved his hand to her thigh, noting how soft she felt, pulling it toward him, and opening her up. “I’ll be gentle,” he promised around a grunt as she continued working him, drawing an orgasm from deep in the depths of his stomach. His fingers skimmed the damp material between her legs, making her body jump.

“I’ve got you. I’m gonna make it so f*cking good, so—”

“Max?” Josh’s shout came from by the water, from beyond the trees where no one could see them, but it brought them both to a screeching halt all the same. “You out here?”

Max cursed and pulled his hands from between Grace’s legs, while she flustered and moved so quickly away from him that once again the hammock tilted dangerously, leaving them both flapping to keep on it.

Josh emerged just as they had the damn thing under control. “Oh,” he said, embarrassment tinging his cheeks. “Sorry, dude, I didn’t realize—”

“It’s okay,” Max said with a hand up, even though it was the biggest damn lie he’d told. His groin pulsed with the remnants of his hard-on, which he prayed Josh didn’t notice, while his heart thumped like a hammer in his chest. “What’s up?”

Josh threw his thumb over his shoulder. “So we’re all gonna go into town, have a few more drinks, maybe hit a club. Everyone’s getting ready now. We’re leaving in about thirty. You in?”

Almost.

Max glanced at Grace, taking in her flushed cheeks and aroused eyes. “You up for it?”