Page 61 of Graciously His

“I—what?”

“Let me in. That’s your correction.”

“I can’t, Nate,” she looks into my eyes, “we’re in my fertile window.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re going to take me right now, while you’re fertile and fuckable, regardless of the consequences.”

Uncertainty wars with heat in her eyes, but I see the moment she decides. She squares her shoulders, her chin coming up in that knee-jerk defiance I love.

“Do it, then,” she says.

I rip open her jeans, standing her up to get them off along with her underwear. Then I shove her back onto the desk and I’m inside her a second later. Grace cries out, her thighs snapping tight around my hips, drawing me in deeper. Her pussy accepts me without any priming. I stay still, just feeling her from the inside out, my mouth by her ear.

“You were ready for me, weren’t you?”

She moans.

I give her one slow, rolling thrust, kicking aside her jeans so I can plant my feet. Then I hold still, even when she wriggles.

“Did you come into my office for this? Did you need your husband’s cock to make you feel better after that appointment?”

She lets out a frustrated growl when I refuse to move despite her silent urging. “Make me forget, Nate. Please.”

I draw back enough to look into her eyes. She’s lost, despite being right here, wrapped around me. Her lip trembles as she tries to hold back tears. I grip the back of her neck.

“What do you need to forget, Grace?”

“You know what. You’ve known from the start.”

“Yes, I fucking have,” I pump into her once, loving how she moans. “You need to forget everyone—everyone—except me. Say it.”

She shakes her head, tears falling as I take her. I should make her say it. I should force Grace to confirm what she’s just discovered—what I don’t have to read the file to know. Her mother has been making her sick her entire life, right down to the false negative for Coeliac Disease. And I am the only one who knew from the start. I hold her close as I move hard within her, comforting her in the best way I know how.

Despite fertility and discovery and latent fury, I make love to my wife.

Chapter 24

Grace

This is beyond dangerous, but it’s also the best thing I’ve ever felt. Nate slides into me as if he’s coming home, and all I want is to take him deeper. He whispers as he thrusts, loving words I definitely don’t deserve, but which I absorb like a sponge:

I love you, fuck—I love you so much.

Squeeze me again like that—fuck, that’s so good…

You’re my perfect girl, you know that?

I’m not. I’m no one’s perfect girl. I’m the daughter of a woman who wanted me dead my entire life, who loved making me hurt, and who probably got off on the sympathetic looks we drew at the hospital. And I’m the wife of a man who helped her continue hurting me until a few days ago.

No. NO.

I try to get back into the moment. Nate’s mouth is on my neck again, kissing me between loving, rapturous words. It’s more than enough to light my synapses, to set my body on fire, but in my mind… I’m still in the living room. I’m still seeing that timeline.

Right here, Eileen said, pointing at the year I married Nick, that’s where she did the most damage. It was when you were about twenty-two, and I think you experienced a systemic Coeliac Crisis. Your joints, stomach, and organs were damaged, most likely because of malabsorption leading to severe malnutrition. Whatever she gave you during that time made things go from bad to severe. I’m honestly surprised you weren’t checked for outright poisoning, but it looks like the doctors really trusted your mother. I’m so sorry, Grace, they should have protected you.

I try to hold back the tears, though I know crying isn’t a turn-off for Nate. Somehow, crying because I need what he’s doing is worse than crying because of what he’s doing. It’s fucked up. I am fucked up.

“Hey,” he whispers, stilling suddenly.