An hour later and neither of us have spoken a word, letting the music fill the space around us. Needing to stretch out my legs, I stand from the couch. “Beer?” I ask, walking past her into the kitchen.

Without even looking up from her paper, she says, “Yes, please.” Turning back to the living room, I stop and lean against the counter. Grace is hunched over her books on the coffee table. Rubbing her shoulder, she tries to stretch out her neck. Her hair is tossed into one of those impossibly messy buns that threaten to swallow up her entire head. There’s a pen sticking out of one side of it and one dangling from her mouth. With her body swaying to the rhythm of some soothing song playing from the television, she looks so at peace. It’s as if I’m seeing her for the first time—the real Grace.

That’s not to say the interaction we’ve had up to this point hasn’t been real. I’ve loved every minute of it, but there’s something pure about watching her like this. She’s unapologetically nerdy, painfully sarcastic, and naturally beautiful.

Mesmerizing.

When she arches her back, twisting it to each side, she catches me staring at her. Over her shoulder, she gives me a sweet, almost shy smile. “Hey.” Her voice is tired and I can only imagine the exhaustion she’s feeling from both the adrenaline of receiving that phone call and the dedication to her work.

“Here you go.” Staying behind the couch, I give her the beers from over her shoulder.

She laughs. “Trying to get me drunk,” she jokes, wiggling both beers.

“No,” I answer seriously. “I’d never take advantage of you.” When I drop my hands to her shoulders, she jumps slightly. “They’ll warm up in a second,” I explain away the coolness the beer left on my fingertips. Her shoulders are twisted, like the knotted roots of some ancient tree. But rather than easing into my touch, she stays tense. “Relax, Grace.” With the gentlest touch, I pull her back further to me. She sighs as my fingers knead into her neck and shoulders. My pride swells when I feel goose bumps dotting her skin. She actually shivers when I graze my short fingernails up the nape of her neck and along her scalp.

After no more than a few minutes of a massage, her body goes limp. “That feels so good,” she moans softly. Covering my hand with hers, she pulls me from the back of the couch to sit next to her.

To her surprise, I keep her facing away from me, running my hands over her shoulders and arms. Leaning back into me, she rests her head against my chest, pushing me back against the arm of the sofa. As carefully as I can, I unloop the elastic from her hair, letting it fall in waves of coconut scented dark red strands. Combing my fingers through her hair relaxes both of us. It takes a matter of seconds for our breathing to synchronize, our chests rising and falling to the same beat.

Trailing my finger along the shell of her ear, she shudders. The atmosphere changes as she presses her ass deeper into my lap. Tracing the same finger lower, it skims the neckline of her tank top. Her back arches, pushing her breasts into my touch. “Grace,” I growl, asking permission yet warning at the same time. “I don’t think–”

“Then don’t,” she says, spinning around impossibly fast. Straddling me, her warmth blankets over my body, making me vibrate with anticipation. She lifts her tank top over her head, letting it fall to the floor. The lacey cream bra leaves little to the imagination. Her skin—it’s perfect, every inch of it. “Don’t think at all,” she pleads, pushing a strap down one arm. “Let me think for both of us.” She pushes down the other strap, revealing what I could only call a work of art. Shivering out of what I hope is desire, she inhales a shaky breath.

Settling my hands on her waist, I’m frozen to the spot. Rubbing sensual circles on her sides, I slowly move my hands up. With my eyes trained on the deep blue depths of hers, I unhook her bra, letting it fall to my lap. With one hand holding steady at the nape of her neck, I use the other, still wrapped around her waist, to pull her down to me.

Our lips are so close, her exhales become my inhales. Her existence flows through my veins and it becomes a basic necessity to feel her lips against mine. Sweet and sin rolled into one, our soft kiss intensifies, pushing our passion to the limits.

The warmth of her mouth, the heated thrash of her tongue against mine, the gentle nips of her teeth tugging on my lower lip, it’s all almost too much for me to take. “Oh, God,” she calls out as she rolls her hips against my erection, lying hot and heavy between us. “David,” she groans.

Arching her back, she pulls her mouth away from mine affording me the chance to rain kisses long her jaw and neck. With just the tip of my tongue, I lick the upper curve of her breasts. Murmuring against her heated skin, I tell her how beautiful she is, how perfect. Though she offers no verbal reaction, her body tells me all I need. She stiffens slightly as she slows her hips. It’s only for the briefest of seconds, but it’s enough to clue me in on her insecurities. “Look at me,” I demand her attention, angling her head back to mine. “Grace, you don’t think I’d lie to you, do you?” Grazing my knuckles along her cheek, she closes her eyes, but says nothing. “Because I wouldn’t. Not about anything, and most definitely not about this.” Trailing my hand lower, I flatten it out just beneath the hollow of her neck. “Open your eyes, Grace.” Her eyes flutter open, the sapphire gems flickering to life.

“David,” she begs, her cheeks flushing pink. “Please.” She arches again, making her demands perfectly clear.

“Oh, I will. The Earth splitting in half couldn’t keep me away from you now.” I move my hand lower still, but not low enough to actually touch her where she wants to be touched. When she closes her eyes again, I stop. “Keep them open. Keep them on me. Listen to me.” Refocused now, she takes a deep breath. “Good girl.”

She sighs.

My hand moves.

She shudders.

Skimming lower still, I watch in amazement as I feel the goose bumps dot her skin.

With only a single finger, I circle her breast, making smaller and smaller circles until I’m unbearably close to the pointed, pink tip. Cupping the underside with my hand, my thumb grazes her nipple and her head lolls back. “On me, Grace.” Moving my hand away from her, I wait for her eyes to find mine again. “There we go.”

There’s fire in her blue eyes, ecstatic and piercing. With as soft a touch as I can manage, I roll her nipples between my fingers. “Oh, God,” she cries out, all while keeping her eyes on mine.

“That’s it, baby. Keep looking at me. Show me how you come apart.” Reluctantly, I move one arm back around her waist, pulling her closer to me. Trailing wet kisses down the center of her breasts, I can actually feel her breathing become more and more uneven. When I pull one tip into my mouth, kissing, licking, sucking it, she bucks wildly on top of me. Moving to the other, her body alternates between rigid and soft, hard and pliant.

“Fuck! You’re so sweet.” My lips tease at her nipple. Pulling her mouth down to mine, her mouth tastes just as sweet. Her tongue delves into my mouth, taking everything it wants, leaving nothing but passionate need in its wake. “I need to touch more of you.” When I run my nose along hers, she nods, granting me and my itchy fingertips the permission I so desperately need.

With a gentle smoothness, I roll us both to our sides, tossing the cushions from the back of the couch down to the floor behind us. “Much better.” Her body molds to mine, our legs entangled and arms wrapped around each other.

“David?” Her voice is uncertain, nervous.

“Shh, baby.” I try to calm her, soft touches roaming over her shoulder and down her arm. “Trust me?”

Without missing a beat, she nods, pressing her lips to mine. “More than I should,” she whispers before kissing me deeper.