Page 107 of A Forever Kind of Rancher

Chapter Eight

Grace and Zack spent the next week in bed together. Okay, not entirely. There was still the matter of work for Grace and work-related functions for Zack. But they either slept in his suite, or her apartment.

Grace had to admit, she kind of liked staying in his suite. It made her feel like a fancy call girl. Or, you know, something less sordid but kind of naughty.

The thing about spending so much time with Zack was that he was sort of an irresistible son-of-a-gun. She only wished the irresistible factor was limited to his body. Sadly for her, there were other things. Things in her chest that seemed to respond to the things that came from his chest.

Which, she supposed, was a very avoid-y way of admitting she responded to his feelings. That she felt them in her.

Grace watched from her position on the couch as Zack crossed the suite completely naked, and unashamed.

His body was so hot. Muscular thighs, washboard-flat abs. Not to mention his cock. Yeah, she’d thought it. She could even say it now, mostly without blushing. When they were actually in the moment, anyway.

Or when she was in her own private moment, fawning over his gorgeous body. Like now.

“You’re sexy,” she said, sliding her hand over her stomach as she watched him.

“Really?”

“Yes,” she said, shamelessly admiring the lines that ran along his hip bones, pointing downward to that most glorious part of him. “I’ve never enjoyed just staring at a man the way I enjoy staring at you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You like me, huh?”

“I told you,” she said.

They’d been all over each other from the moment she’d gotten off work three hours earlier, but that hadn’t seemed to dampen her need for him. Far from it.

“I need a shower,” she said. “Want to come?”

“I think I did. And that’s why you need a shower.”

“That was a dirty joke.”

“Yes,” he said, “yes it was.”

He didn’t look like he was joking, though. He looked kind of grave. And she wished he wouldn’t. Because it made her feel things. Deep, sincere things that were more important than the hierarchy at her company. That were more important than fiscal and professional success.

The happiness he’d talked about. A deep, altering feeling that she was afraid was going to rearrange her entire, well-ordered insides.

This wasn’t what she’d wanted. Not at all. But she was afraid it was what she had, whether she was looking for it or not.

“All right,” he said, “lead the way.”

“No thanks. You can lead the way.”

He arched a brow.

“I want to watch your behind while we walk,” she said, fluttering her lashes at him.

“I think I’m a bad influence on you,” he said.

“I actually like to think I’m being a bad influence on myself, and I’m taking you down with me.”

He did smile at that. A genuine one that made her heart squeeze tight.

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