Page 45 of His Saving Grace

Chapter 10

Gracethrewtheremains of their dinner in the trash can, grateful for the moment alone. She enjoyed her time with Mason, but damn, serious spots of tension kept popping up all over the place.

First, there’d been the moment when he’d told her he was an old-fashioned guy. The words had hit so close to her former life that, for a moment, she’d panicked. Her walls had come crashing down, ready to protect her. It had taken her brain a bit to convince itself she was safe. That the words meant something different coming from Mason.

She turned back to the blanket. He sat there, leaning back on his arms, chatting with a gentleman who’d stopped next to him. He was relaxed and smiling. Her stomach did a weird quiver, the stupid traitor. She had to admit, though, she liked seeing him so at ease.

He was usually so… intense. And so self-conscious and defensive about his leg. He’d told her he felt broken, and that made her sad. Because he wasn’t broken, he was amazing. It was just going to take some time for him to realize it.

Maybe you can help him with that.

No, no, she couldn’t. She wasn’t in a place to help someone through something so important. She was barely keeping herself afloat.

But you’ve already broken your rule by helping with his leg.

Yeah, but she hadn’t been able to help herself. She’d known by the stiffness of his movements—and the way he’d winced—that his leg was bothering him. The physiotherapist in her had hustled to the forefront. Without weighing the consequences, she’d acted. While it had worked, it had also been rash, and now there was no doubt he was full of questions she wasn’t ready to answer.

She brushed the worries aside and headed back to the picnic blanket. Her heart did some weird fluttery thing, almost as if it had sprouted wings and was trying to fly away—most likely right into Mason’s arms. She tried to convince herself her reaction was because of the excitement of the day, but she knew better. It was all because of the handsome man waiting for her.

It was cooler now that the sun had set, and she grabbed her sweater and slipped it on. She sat, a little closer to him than she’d been during dinner. Okay, fine, she was right next to him. The warmth radiating off of him was delicious and welcome. She fought off the urge to snuggle against him. Because that’d be wrong. Although, at the moment, she wasn’t exactly sure why.

He handed her a cup of wine and gave her one of those genuine, dazzling smiles. Her stomach flip-flopped. He was so damn gorgeous, especially when he smiled. Which thankfully only happened when he was relaxed, because otherwise he’d be forced to beat the women off with a stick. And why on Earth did the thought of other women panting after him send a streak of jealousy slashing through her?

She sipped the wine, the citrusy chardonnay crisp on her tongue. It was light and refreshing. One of her favorites. Mason had been doing his homework, which was more worrying than anything else. Dammit, she needed to be more careful. And yes, she knew she kept saying that, but this time she meant it.

They settled in and the fireworks began. The first loud sizzle and burst sent sparks of light dancing across the darkened sky. The boom of the exploding powder reverberated through the park. She watched, enraptured by the beautiful light show, a smile on her face. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw fireworks.

Mason stiffened next to her.

A second boom echoed, louder than the first, sending another spray of light high into the air. Mason’s breathing turned ragged, and she glanced at him. His hands gripped his knees so tightly, his knuckles leeched of all color. A grip like that was going to leave bruises.

Concerned, she put her glass down and placed her hand over his. He didn’t move, or acknowledge her in the least, oblivious to everything going on around him.

His features were blank, his eyes haunted.

Her heart ached for everything he’d suffered—was still suffering from—and she shuffled closer, making sure her hip brushed against his. Still nothing. Shit, shit, shit.

The fireworks continued, the continual boom of the shells and the hisses and pops of the lights filling the air. The crowd ooh’d and ahh’d at the fancy, bright bursts of color, but she had other things to worry about.

She’d never proclaim to know anything about what he was going through, but she did know she couldn’t leave him like this. She grabbed the cup from his hand and placed it and hers off to the side.

Hoping to somehow ground him, she crawled over his leg to sit between his splayed thighs, leaning against him, her back pressed against his chest. His heat enveloped her, chasing away the lingering evening chill. His spicy masculine scent wrapped around her and she trembled.

Her plan worked. He leaned forward and wrapped one of his arms around her waist, the other around her shoulders, holding her close. Bending his knees, he planted his feet on the ground, caging her in. He relaxed against her and sighed, his breath brushing against the skin of her neck.

Relief made her head fall back against his shoulder. It had worked.

“Thank you.” His lips brushed against the shell of her ear.

“Mason…” His name came out all breathy and uncertain. She wasn’t sure what she was trying to say.

He kissed down the length of her neck, sending goosebumps skittering along her skin. She closed her eyes against the flood of sensation. A quiet, pleased sound escaped the back of her throat, and her head tilted of its own accord to give him better access.

He took full advantage, brushing his tongue against her flesh, and then gently sucking on the fluttering pulse point at her throat. He tightened his arms, pulling her flush against him. Her bottom nestled between his thighs, and she felt the hard length of his erection pressing against her. Another shiver rocked her, this one having nothing to do with the temperature.

She tilted her hips to rub against him, and he pulled in a breath, his teeth biting down on her fabric covered shoulder. Her nipples puckered, brushing against the lace of her bra, and she ached to feel his hands on her.

As if reading her mind, he slipped his hand down to cup her breast, her sweater shielding his movement from any prying eyes. He squeezed gently, and she bit her lip to stop from making a sound and drawing attention to them.