Page 185 of The Silent Note

Pleased, I add another line to my growing list of ‘Little Things About Grace Jamieson’.

Item number 435: she likes slow, romantic kissing.

It’s clear the way she melts into and around me. This is definitely Grace’s speed.

And it’s the opposite of mine.

My body is roaring to get under her T-shirt where, I have a sneaking suspicion, she isn’t wearing panties. My hands ache to touch and tease until she’s crazed. Until she’s begging with pulsing, throbbingneed.By now, broken wrist or no, I’d already have a woman on all fours, back arching, body shaking as I gorge them to pieces.

But I keep the slow, slow pace of the kiss as a love letter.

And it’s enough.

Why wouldn’t it be enough?

Something this precious, something this pure, I never thought it would be mine. Me? Zane Cross? The guy who can throw a woman around like a rag doll. Plunge into her like a stallion. Lick her until she weeps? The guy who goes to sleep with a blonde and wakes up with a brunette, having blacked out between switching the two?

That guy gets to hold Grace Jamieson? Gets to call her wife?

The gentleness of her touch settles around me, warm and inviting. A soft place to land. Home.

I ease back, inhaling her like oxygen.

“I love you too,” I whisper.

The side of her mouth ticks up.

I lean toward her, kissing her again and nudging her back toward the bed. As my good hand begins to roam her face, I inch a little too far up and feel plastic instead of curls. Grey notices where my hand is heading and she shoves me desperately.

“Ah!” I cry out.

Her eyes widen. “Oh, my gosh. Zane! Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I force a smile as pain pulses through my arm and shoots up my neck. “I just… never thought a woman with a plastic bag over her head could turn me on like this.”

Grey laughs nervously. “You should take your pills.”

I want to protest, but the pain filleting me open forces me to agree.

“This isn’t over.” I point to the space between us. “In about half an hour, we can pick up where we left off.”

“I have to finish my hair anyway. You have enough time to order something to eat so you don’t take the pills on an empty stomach. How about we meet back in an hour or so?”

I shake my head. “We’ve turned into that old married couple that has a sex schedule.”

“You’re the one who married an old lady.”

“Calling yourself old at twenty-four is offensive to actual old ladies.”

“I’m an old lady on the inside.” She taps her chest. “This,” Grey motions to the plastic bag covering her hair, “and reading books while it rains is what I call a good time.”

“You gotta get out more, tiger.”

She laughs.

“Go finish your hair before I change my mind and ruin the schedule.”

I expect her to hurry away like she always does, but Grey walks slowly backward, keeping me in her sights.

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