Page 73 of Surrender Your Grace
“Was it worth angering me?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm.
“No. The cigars were foul, the brandy worse, and I never found what I was looking for.”
“Your ‘instructional material’?” he said dryly, punctuating it with two more sharp swats.
“Yes,” she hissed. “And I disappointed you.”
“Very much so,” he replied, administering a flurry of four.
“That wasn’t my intent,” she cried. “I don’t even know what I was thinking.” Lifting her gaze to the mirror, she met and held his. “I’m clear-headed now, Andrew. And I’m very sorry.”
A final smack fell followed by a kiss pressed to the curve of her spine.
The contradiction made her dizzy.
He rubbed her tender skin, slow and gentle. “You’re flushed all over, sweeting. Should I take it as shame?
She turned her head slightly, lips curving. “It might be something else.”
“Oh? What might that be?”
“I miss you,” she whispered. “I miss us—the way we were.”
“So do I.”
He spun her and lifted her onto the vanity. Her knees parted instinctively, silk gown bunching as he stepped between her thighs.
“It’s been a long time.”
“Too long,” she murmured, breath catching as his hands skimmed up the outside of her legs.
“I’ve waited,” he said, brushing his fingers along her hip. “Not because I didn’t want you—God knows I did. There wasn’t a day I didn’t think of you, not a night I didn’t ache to touch you. But I waited for your strength to return. Your laughter. Thelight in your eyes. I couldn’t take more until I knew you’d fully healed… in every way.”
“Thank you for your patience,” she whispered. “But I want this. I want you.”
He studied her, something unguarded flickering in his gaze—regret, maybe. Or something softer. Hope.
“Then welcome me home,” he murmured. “Not just tonight. Tomorrow. The day after.”
“I’m right here, Andrew. For always.”
He cradled her face and kissed her. No dominance. No restraint. Just devotion.
He eased the straps from her shoulders, letting the silk slide down her body. She reached for him, fingers trembling as she worked his buttons. He shrugged off his shirt then lifted her and carried her to the bed, laying her atop the covers like a priceless gem on velvet.
He removed the last barrier between them, standing naked in the firelight—pure heat and masculine intent. Then he joined her, fingers trailing the curve of her waist, down to the softness of her thighs.
“Tell me if you’re uncertain,” he murmured. “Tell me to stop if you’re not ready.”
“I’ve never been more certain,” she breathed.
His lips began at her collarbone, trailing lower. At her belly, he paused, his mouth soft against her skin.
“We lost something precious,” he said quietly.
Undone by him, her voice broke with emotion, “Yes, and I’ll never forget, but I’m ready to begin again.”
His hands and lips explored, teased. Her body arched into him, aching and ready—every nerve alive.
