Page 58 of Reason to Believe (White Lace 2)

Every touch, every stroke and grunt grounded me in the present. I’d forgotten my future. I’d forgotten why I’d come here in the first place.

I was already revved up. His toying touches of my clit and the slapping of my folds already had me at the edge. It wasn’t going to take much for him to push me over so that I could soar into a pleasure-filled chasm.

And I did. With Ben’s hands on my breasts I came, shuddering in his embrace as he continued his assault on my body. Seconds later, he followed, his grunts of pleasure muffled between bites of my neck.

“Grace…” My name was a muffled sound against my ear. His hands were like a vise on my breasts, using them as leverage to pump inside me so deep and hard I felt him everywhere. “I don’t think I can stop wanting you.”

My stomach fluttered, and not from the orgasm that had just exploded inside me. I reached up and over, pressing my hand onto his head. “I don’t want you to stop.”

I wanted Ben Lockwood to want me so much that it made him crazy. But I already knew he wasn’t the monogamous type, and I had played in groups for far too long. I wanted a man who didn’t want to share me with anyone.

My happily ever after didn’t involve a third.

Chapter 17

Ben

If I got out of bed and looked at myself in the mirror, I don’t think I’d recognize myself.

What the fuck had just happened?

I’d used sex to get her to comply with my demands. It wasn’t something I hadn’t done before, but this time the motivation was completely foreign—I actually wanted to know what was going on inside her head.

So I’d made promises. I’d manipulated. All to get me to this point, with Grace snuggled up against me in my bed, vulnerable and sated, hoping like hell that she’d open up.

Because you’re such a talker.

When I’d opened my front door and saw her there, visibly hurting, I couldn’t help the overwhelming need to make everything all right. And in order to do that, I needed to know what was wrong.

When I had asked Grace for her help, I’d never expected that we would connect. At least not on an emotional level. I knew we already had a sexual connection that was undeniable, but I never thought it would evolve into something more. The more she burrowed herself into my life, the harder it was for me to go to bed without thinking about her, wondering if she was thinking about me, too.

“So how is it that you are only twenty-four years old and you have this incredible house all to yourself?” she asked, snuggling in deeper.

I loved how her sex-slicked skin rubbed against mine, but her generic question proved that she might not be ready to let me past the curtain. Maybe I had to go first.

“The Levins are a very generous family. So generous that they took me in and raised me as their own.”

She sat up, steadying herself on her elbo

w. “Everly might have mentioned once that you lived with them.”

I nodded.

“What happened to your parents?”

My entire body tensed, and I knew she felt it when the finger she was using to draw circles across my chest stopped abruptly. The question was so innocent and the answer would be so much easier if the truth was anything like what people assumed—that my parents had died. No explanation required. But real life was always so much more complicated.

“I never knew my father.”

This time it was her turn to tense, her body clamped around me as if wanting to keep me in place like I was some kind of frightened animal and any sudden movement might spook me.

“My mom stuck around, but she was no prize. More interested in her next boyfriend than taking care of me. She was always making promises she couldn’t keep. She never once helped me with my homework and was always a no-show for my art shows.”

After a while her not showing up stopped being hurtful and became inevitable.

“Max’s mom rescued me when I was eleven. She came to my house and found me all alone, eating chips in front of the television. She didn’t even pack a bag for me. My mom showed up at the Levins’ two weeks later, when she’d finally realized I wasn’t around.”

Something hurt inside my chest. It had been so long since I’d thought about that night. Not the night that Mrs. Levin had brought me home, but when my mother had rung the doorbell and stormed inside, claiming to be my parent.

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