Page 46 of His Saving Grace

Her core throbbed, moisture flooding her, and she squirmed against him. That drew a series of low growls from him, which were thankfully drowned out by the boom and crackle of the fireworks.

He slid his other hand to her hip and then down along her thigh. The touch left a streak of fire on her skin. He toyed with the bare skin of her knee, and she sucked in a shaky breath. Then he slipped his fingers underneath the fabric and slowly slid them upwards. He traced a ragged path along her inner thigh, sending a new shower of goosebumps across her skin.

The hum and hustle of the crowd brought her back to reality. The fireworks had ended and everyone was gathering their things to leave. She stiffened, and Mason’s hands stopped instantly.

He dropped his hands, and she scrambled to her feet. He stood at a much slower pace, his gaze never leaving hers. She could feel her cheeks were flushed, but it had less to do with being embarrassed, and more to the fact that she was so turned on.

Needing something, anything, to do, she grabbed the cups and her purse and stepped out of the way. He picked up the blanket and gave it a quick snap, and then wadded it into a ball and stuffed it into the basket. She used his distraction to fan her face, hoping to dispel some of the heat radiating from her.

He picked up the picnic basket, and she admired the way his shirt pulled tight over his back and his arms. He turned back and caught her staring. A wicked smile spread across his lush mouth. She wanted to kiss him so badly, she almost said to hell with it and launched herself across the space.

But she didn’t get the chance, because he’d already grabbed her hand and was leading her into the crowd. They stopped briefly, so she could throw the cups into the trash, and then continued on their way.

The crowds were so thick, it was slow going, but they eventually made it to the truck. Getting out of the parking lot and onto the road was a bit of a nightmare, which was not helped by the sexual tension bouncing between them.

It crackled in the confines of the truck, almost like a living, breathing entity, making the hair on her body stand on end. She was acutely aware of Mason. Every move he made, every breath he took, practically every beat of his heart.

He seemed just as affected, his gaze darting to her a few times before he reached over and took her hand. He entwined their fingers, his grip firm.

Finally, they’d made their way through the congested city and were on the darkened highway headed to the ranch.

She unbuckled her seat belt and scooted over to the center seat. Her thigh burned where it pressed against his leg, the heat sinking right into her bones. She refused to let go of him, struggling to buckle the lap belt with only one hand.

Mason chuckled and released her hand so he could help. He clicked the belt closed and moved his hand to her knee. He squeezed lightly and her breath hitched.

She placed her hand over top of his, sliding his fingers under the hem of her skirt. Just so there were no mixed messages.

Needing no further encouragement, he skimmed his fingers along her inner thigh. Wetness gathered at her core, her abs clenching. His fingers reached the edge of her panties, and he stopped. She whimpered.

He toyed with the elastic, without going any further, frustrating her to no end. But she knew how to get him moving.

She settled her hand on his knee. Under her fingers, his thigh muscle tensed. She would have smiled had she not been so focused. She walked her fingers up his thigh, and he blew out a quick breath.

It was now or never.

She slid her hand over and cupped him. He groaned, his erection solid against her fingers. He was large, larger than anyone she’d been with before—not all that was surprising, given she’d only been with two people—and a thrill, twined with a touch of anxiety, slid down her spine.

Are you really going to do this?

Hell yeah, she was. Because she wanted this. She wanted this so badly she could almost taste it. After everything, she deserved to have something she wanted, something that was going to make her happy. Even if it was only for a little while.

He was hard. Oh, so hard. Proof he wanted her as badly as she wanted him. She’d done that to him. It left her feeling giddy and powerful. A heady combination.

She massaged him, her hand squeezing and kneading through his jeans. He groaned, the sound low and dirty, and it sent a streak of desire straight to her core. She cursed the fabric in her way, wishing she could feel him without the barrier.

He pressed his fingers against her, through the cotton of her panties, and she moaned., dropping her head against the back of the seat. Her thighs opened of their own accord, giving him full access. He took her up on her invitation, finding her clit, rubbing his finger in a circular rhythm that had her writhing on the seat in seconds.

She closed her eyes and rolled her head to the side, so it rested on his shoulder. She lifted her hips, pressing them against his fingers. Her nipples scraped against the inside of her bra, wringing another moan from her. He quickened the motion of his fingers and her entire body stiffened, her muscles clenching.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. He still faced forward, his eyes on the road. She shouldn’t distract him. He needed to concentrate. But she couldn’t help it. She needed him to finish what he started, to bring her to the end, or she wouldn’t be able to think straight.

“Please.” Desperation coated the word. She didn’t care.

He pulled his hand away, and a frustrated whimper escaped her. She squeezed his erection in protest. He growled, pulsing against her palm, his hips jumping.

He slipped his hand into her panties, cupping her. She could feel her wetness flooding his fingers. He pressed the tip of a finger against her opening, but stopped before pushing inside.

She made an unintelligible sound, part sob, part moan. It had been so long since anyone had touched her like this, so long since she wanted anyone to touch her like this. She didn’t know what to do, what to feel.