“I didn’t recognize you, Gracie.” He sauntered over, enjoying the way her cheeks flushed as he drank her in. The tension he’d been holding in his shoulders the last few days melted away, his chest loosened, and the world felt right again.

“I wanted to talk.” Her dark brows gathered. He got the feeling this was Gracie’s game face, though she still looked cute as hell.

“Shoot.”

“In private.”

Des nodded and motioned for her to come to the other end of the bar. He held the swing door open and let her into the serving area. She followed him to the office. The space felt even more cramped than usual with Gracie next to him; her glorious vanilla scent was intoxicating in the open air, let alone when they were confined in what was essentially a glorified cupboard.

He motioned for Gracie to take the office chair and he locked the door behind them. The last thing he wanted was anyone barging in when he finally had Gracie to himself. Leaning against the desk next to her, he said, “Talk to me.”

“I…” She took a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize for the other night, and for not taking your call. I was still processing what happened.”

“The date?”

“Well, the kiss more specifically.” Her cheeks colored again, though this time the blush spread all the way down to the open collar of her white shirt. “And that I took your words out of context.”

“How so?”

“You said we could be ‘right for now.’ I assumed you viewed me as a one-night stand.”

Des nodded slowly, holding his tongue so she had her opportunity to get it all out.

“And,” she continued, “that was me jumping the gun. You never mentioned anything about sleeping together. You only invited me to your place. I don’t know why my mind went there and it was rude of me to say something like that.”

“Gracie.” He leaned forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, the heat of her skin simmering underneath the thin cotton. “I did invite you back to my place because I wanted to sleep with you.”

“Oh.” Her mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ and she fiddled with one of her pearl earrings.

Des leaned back, dropping his hands to his lap. “That doesn’t mean I think of you as a one-night stand. But it also doesn’t mean I’ve stopped fantasizing about getting you naked.”

“Oh.” She flamed brighter still, then lowered her eyes as she nodded her head slowly. “Well…at least you’re honest.”

“That I am.” He chuckled. “Perhaps you’re more innocent than I thought.”

“Why do you say that?” Her eyes snapped back up to his and she pursed her lips.

She looked prim as a society wife with her pearl earrings and white shirt. If it weren’t for the high gloss and spike heel of her black pumps, he’d have thought he was looking at another woman entirely.

“Call it a gut feeling.”

She dragged her lower lip between her teeth and Des averted his eyes. Without the wild hair, jangling jewellery, and sassy attitude, she looked younger, more vulnerable. He’d never once suspected she hid behind those things, but seeing her now was like witnessing her stripped back to her essence.

Protective urges flared within him, but he resisted…he had to. There was no way he’d take advantage of a moment of her weakness or insecurity. He certainly wouldn’t start something unless she gave him the okay, even if he was about to spontaneously combust. He gripped the hard edge of the desk, anchoring himself.

“Looks like you’ve figured me out,” she said, her tone even and guarded. “I’m Gracie Greene: conservative, innocent, and inexperienced. My mother is desperate to marry me off because she thinks I’m going to turn into a spinster and all she cares about is amassing grandchildren. I date guys who are wrong for me, and the one guy I do have a connection with has realized what a fraud I am.”

The sting in her words pierced Des’s chest. She sounded downtrodden, as though she expected dismissal.

“You’re not a fraud.” Des reached for her hands and pulled her up so she stood between his legs. “Don’t let your family get into your head, you’re young—there’s nothing wrong with being single.”

“The sad thing is, I don’t want to be single, but as soon as I bring someone home, Mother will be calling the wedding planner and picking out strollers.”

“Then don’t bring anyone home.” He sighed. “Gracie, it’s your life. You make the decisions, you call the shots, and you can tell her how it is.”

“It’s not that easy.” She shook her head.

“Yeah, it is.” He cupped her face with both hands. “It’s about time you started doing things for you.”

She closed her eyes and stepped closer to him, until her slender hips nestled right between his thighs. He hardened and cursed internally. It took every ounce of restraint not to tear open her shirt. He wanted to hear the pinging of her buttons as they flew across the room. He wanted to bury his face in that flawless satin skin of hers. But he sat still, daring only for a shallow breath lest he inadvertently rub against her.

“Did you miss the part where I said you were the one guy I had a connection with?” She speared him with one soul-searching look. A shy smile curved her lips at the corners.

“You didn’t explicitly say you were referring to me,” he teased. Her dark gaze scorched him, unblinking as she waited for him. “I didn’t miss it.”

How could he have missed something like that? His cock ached to be inside her. He’d thought of nothing else but holding her tight while he pleasured her over and over. It kept him awake each night, until he tossed and turned himself to sleep.

“What if I said I wanted to explore that connection a little further?”

God help him, he was about to break. “How?”

“With my hands,” she said, running her palms up his thighs towards the section where his erection was clearly pressing against his jeans. His mind swam as her fingertips skated near the spot he wanted her to touch most.

“With my mouth.” She leaned forward and pressed her sweet lips to his neck.

Fire shot through his system, his neck heated by her kiss. He wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer. Her vanilla perfume and the subtle scent of shampoo in her hair combined to assault his senses.

“With my body.” Her lips brushed his ear. The whispered words pushed him to the edge. She wrapped her hands around his and brought them to her hips, her lashes fluttering as he gripped her tight.

“Last chance to back out,” he said, each word torture as he held himself in check.

She shook her head, and he reached for the ornate pin that held her bun in place. Slowly, as though prolonging their desire to the last possible moment, he slid the pin from her hair and watched it tumble in a glorious mane around her shoulders. He set the pin down and ran his hands up the back of her neck, threading his fingers through the layers that curled and kinked every which way.

He dipped a finger into the waistband of her jeans, tugging out the neatly tucked shirt and running a knuckle across the taut skin on her stomach. She gasped as his hand moved to her zipper, drawing it open and pushing the soft denim down her legs until she kicked off her heels and stepped out of the jeans.

He watched as she stood there, her thighs pressed together and her hands fluttering by her sides. “I want to remember this picture for a long time.”

A smile twitched on her lips. Her nails—lacquered red—caught the light of the lamp beside him.

“Don’t take too long. I might lose my nerve.” She held out her hand and he took it, running his thumb over each ridge of her knuckles in turn. He brought it to his lips and kissed her gently. “No one is going to come in here… Are they?”

“You’re safe with me, Gracie Greene.” He let go of her hand. “Undress for me.”

Her hands came to the shirt button at her collarbone. She carefully pushed the small pearl through its loop. With each button opened, an inch more of her was exposed. Watching the slow reveal of her breasts was the most on edge Des had ever been. His breathing was shallow, his pulse hammering a staccato beat in his chest.