Saving Grace (Love Under the Big Sky, #2.5)(11)

“Back at you, mate.”

“I’m not your mate, love.” He nuzzles my nose once more before backing away. “I’m going to be much more than that.”





chapter 5


I close the door behind me and lean against the wood, panting, aching, wanting with all my heart to call him back here.

I’ve never done an impulsive thing in my life.

It’s about time to change that.

I yank the door open and stick my head out into the hallway, just in time to see Jacob press the call button for the elevator.

“Jacob, wait.”

He stills and whips his head toward me.

“Don’t go.”

He marches back to me and gazes down into my face with bright green eyes. “What’s wrong, darling?”

“I don’t want you to leave,” I whisper, and watch his lips as he licks them.

“What do you want?”

I find his gaze with mine and simply say, “You.”

“Invite me in, please.”

“Another one of those gentlemanly things?” I ask softly.

“Grace, I’m on a very precarious ledge right now.”

“Won’t you come in?” I step back and open the door wide. He swoops in, pushes me deeper into the room, cups my face in his hands, and devours me with his mouth. The door slams shut behind him and I can only cling to him as he kisses me almost desperately, as though I’m a mirage that will disappear.

He pulls my shrug off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, and reaches for the button of my jeans next, deftly unfastening them with one hand. He pushes his hands inside them, glides them down my ass, and lowers my jeans down my legs until they’re pooled around my ankles.

“I told myself that once I finally had you like this, I’d take my time and explore every inch of your gorgeous little body . . .”

I whip my cami over my head just as he reaches behind me to unclasp my bra and am now pinned against the wall in my plain pink panties.

“. . . but I feel like I’m going to die if I don’t taste you.”

He kneels before me, yanks my panties down, pulls my leg up onto his shoulder, and with reverent hands, touches the insides of my thighs gently.

“Jacob, I’m going to fall.”

“I won’t let you fall.”

“Trust me on this one,” I reply and gasp when his fingers spread my lips, opening me up to his hot gaze and warm breath.

“I just need one taste.” He leans in and places his lips over mine and sucks gently. I plant my hands in his hair and hold on as an urgent wave of pure lust consumes me. I whimper, and my breath comes in shallow, short pants.

“I can’t, babe.” Dear God, I’m losing my balance.

He growls, guides my leg over his shoulder, and lifts me off the f*cking floor, his face still buried in my *. With his other hand braced on my back to keep me from falling, he carries me the short distance to the bed, lays me gently in the center, and continues to feast on me, never missing a beat.

“Holy shit!”

I feel him grin against me, then he licks up to my clit and circles it with the tip of his tongue.

“You. Are. So. Sweet.” Each word is separated with a kiss planted to my lips. “You’re so swollen and pink. So f*cking wet.”

Those naughty words spilling from his mouth in that sexy-as-hell accent have me writhing beneath him, never wanting this moment to end.

I whimper and bite my lip as he tilts my pelvis up and licks the crease of my thigh, around my mound to the other side, avoiding the sensitive spot I want him to concentrate on.

His hand glides up my belly to my breast. His fingertips dance over my nipple, barely grazing it, sending goose bumps over my entire body.

“You like that, love?” I nod and he chuckles against me, sinks a finger inside me, and wraps his lips around my clit, sucking gently.

“Oh, God,” I whisper, as the base of my spine tingles, my legs begin to shake, and I feel the orgasm work up and through me. I clench his hair in my hands as I pant and tremble, grinding my * against his magical mouth.

Jacob kisses my inner thighs and slowly pulls his thick finger out of me, then sticks it in his mouth and licks it clean.

Holy f*cking shit.

He kisses his way up my body, exploring my navel, my ribs, and each breast before dragging his nose up my neck and kissing me softly, thoroughly.

He cups my head in his hands and massages my scalp firmly with his strong fingertips. Dear God, if he’ll just keep doing that for about three months I’ll be his sex slave for life.

“You are so beautiful, Grace,” he whispers against my lips. He’s still fully dressed, his hips are pressed to mine, and I can feel his erection pressed against me.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” I reply, and push his shirt off his shoulders. He grins and stands at the side of the bed, shucks out of his clothes, leaving his Calvin Klein boxer-briefs on. He lifts me effortlessly off the bed, pulls the covers back, and settles us both inside the bed, my back to his front.

And now I’m completely f*cking confused.

What the hell?

My head is lying on his bicep. He has his arm curled up so he can brush his fingers through my hair soothingly, and his free hand is on my belly, his fingertips thrumming up and down my stomach, my ribs, grazing my breast, but he never goes near the goods.