Page 53 of Holding Grace

“That’s right,” Michael said slowly. “You left home the day after your birthday.”

“I did.” I let my mind go back to that day, to the night before when I’d been so worried that Ellis or Seth would somehow realize what I was planning. “On Tuesday, it will be three years. It hardly seems possible.”

With an effort, I shook the thoughts away. “While I was moving around, every day was just one more day. I barely even noticed my birthdays. So today was really nice.”

“That’s good to hear.” Michael walked toward me slowly, eyes firmly fixed on me now rather than roaming the apartment. “I wasn’t sure what you’d think about the surprise.”

“I like surprises. Not ones like Ellis flying off the handle out of nowhere and yelling at me or breaking things or slamming doors. Not those. But happy ones like today...those surprises I like.”

I sounded breathless. Michael’s eyes were dark, his gaze intent as he stalked closer, coming to a stop directly in front of me.

“I’ll try to make sure they’re all happy. Happy surprises and happy memories.” He reached out and gently brushed his fingertips across my cheekbone as I stood transfixed. “Can I add one more memory to the day?”

I nodded softly, face tilted up to his, hoping...

Then Michael lowered his head and gave me what I’d been hoping for.

His mouth covered mine and I couldn’t hold back my contented sigh. He gathered me close, slipping one hand into my hair, cupping the back of my head while his other hand pressed against the small of my back. Needing my hands on him, I tunneled them under his shirt and slid them up his sides, feeling his grunt of satisfaction.

He slid the tip of his tongue along the seam of my lips, and I opened, giving him entrance. He pulled me closer, tilted my head just a little, and took control.

His tongue stroked mine, shooting sparks through my body until I was clinging to him. I’d never been kissed like this, never been so swept away from the feel of man’s hard body pressed against mine, his warm, smooth skin under my hands, his mouth owning my every thought.

Moments slipped away until Michael drew back, releasing my mouth to run his lips across my neck, wringing a shiver from me in response.

He kissed me lightly again before resting his forehead against mine.

“Good memory?” he asked, his eyes serious.

“Great memory,” I returned, loving the way his eyes sparked at my response.

“You’re hard to leave,” he rumbled.

“You’re hard to let go.”

For a second, I toyed with the idea – what if I asked him to stay?

But in the next second, I thought no. There was no reason to rush this. I needed to let things unfold the way they would in their own time.

One more soft, toe-curling kiss, and a “happy birthday, Gracie” in that low, sexy rumble, then I was closing and locking the door behind Michael, still not a hundred percent convinced I wasn’t crazy for not asking him to stay.

I thought about the nickname he’d given me as I drifted around the apartment, turning off lights, then slowly climbed the stairs to the loft.

Gracie.

No one had ever called me that. My only nicknames growing up had been Graceless and Stupid, given to me by none other than Ellis. They’d earned him a slap on the back of the head from his mother when she’d heard him, but it hadn’t slowed him down.

Seth had called me babe, I suspected more out of sheer laziness than any real sense of fondness.

But Gracie...when Michael said it there had been warmth, and affection, and desire, and just the tiniest hint of possessiveness.

As if he wanted to stake a claim and wanted me to know it.

Gracie. I liked it.

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