Saving Grace Read online

  “What are you thinking about, love?” he says, as he sits and passes me my coffee.

  “Nothing.”

  “That flush on your cheeks isn’t nothing.”

  I feel myself blush harder and look down at my cup.

  Jacob leans toward me and brushes his fingers through my short hair behind my ear. “It’s okay, love. I can’t stop thinking about it, either. Spill it.”

  I glance about the small space, satisfied that no one is close enough to hear our intimate conversation.

  I lean in and press my lips to his ear. “I was thinking about how spectacular you look when you’re above me, how I love the way your muscles flex, and how completely you fill me.” I brush my fingers through his soft, thick hair and his breath catches. His green eyes are on fire as I pull away and smile up at him innocently.

  I clear my throat and take a sip of coffee. “I have to check out of the lodge and stow my things in my car before my massage.”

  He frowns and takes my hand in his. “I’m not ready for you to leave yet.”

  “I only had the room for the one night.”

  “I’d love to have your things moved to my suite while you get your massage. You can come directly to my rooms when you’re finished.”

  I bite my lip and then smile. “I’d like that. But I don’t want you to feel obligated . . .”

  “One thing you’ll learn about me, darling, is that I never do what I don’t want to do. I want you with me tonight.”

  His words warm me and intensify the ache in my core. “Okay, then, I’d like that. Thank you.”

  “The pleasure is all mine, Grace.” He smiles and drains the rest of his coffee, then consults his watch. “Unfortunately, I have to work for a bit this afternoon. I’ll leave a key to my suite with Jeanette for you. Just pick it up when you’re finished with your massage. I’ll handle having your things moved.”

  “I feel very pampered, Mr. Baxter.”

  He glances at me and his body softens as he leans toward me. “You deserve to be pampered. And that’s Sir Baxter to you, missy.”

  “Sir Baxter? You’ve been knighted?”

  “I have.” He nods and then chuckles. “But don’t tell anyone.”

  “I do believe this is the first time I’ve seen you get bashful.” I cup his face in my hand. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. As long as you arrange for me to have tea with Kate and the baby.”

  He raises a brow and then breaks out into a laugh. “I’ll see what I can do, silly girl.” He checks his watch again.

  “Go ahead. I’m going to be lazy here for a few minutes, call Cara, and then mosey on down to the spa. It’s a rough life. The suffering is immense, but I’ll be brave.”

  “Enjoy it, my brave girl.” He kisses me long and hard, not giving a shit about who may be watching, then stands and shrugs into his coat. “I’ll do my best to meet you in my room when you’re finished.”

  “No worries. Have a good day, dear.”

  He winks and strides out of the café, turning heads as he goes.

  Christ on a crutch, the man is a walking mass of sex appeal.

  I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Cara’s number.

  “Hey, how were the ski lessons?”

  “I’m in the hospital.”

  “Oh my God!”

  “I’m kidding. The lessons have been great. I didn’t fall nearly as much as I thought I would.”

  “We told you you’d love it! You can tell us all about it tonight at girls’ night out.”

  “That’s why I’m calling. I won’t be able to make it.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I might be having an affair with my ski instructor. Except he’s not an instructor, he’s the billionaire hottie that bought the joint.” I bite my lip as silence descends on the call. “Cara?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” she shrieks. “This is awesome! I want details!”

  “Take it down a notch there, sister.” I laugh and shift in my seat. “Yes, it’s awesome. He’s hot as hell, Cara. Like, movie star hot. And he’s British so his accent is crazy sexy.”

  “I’m so jealous right now.”

  “You have your own hottie.”

  “I know, but I can still be jealous.” She laughs and I can hear her jumping up and down. “I’m so excited for you!”

  “So, he wants me to stay one more night, and I accepted. Am I being stupid?”

  “Does the sex suck?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Is he a douche bag?”

  “No even a little bit.”

  “Then no, you’re not being stupid. Enjoy him, honey.”

  “Okay.” I grin and check the time. “Oh shit, I have to get to my massage. Thank you for this weekend, Cara. Seriously, I needed it.”

  “I know, and you’re welcome. I’ll want every naughty detail when you get home.”

  “Deal.”

  “That massage was amazing. Thank you.” I smile at the therapist and turn to leave, but she stops me.

  “Wait. You’re scheduled for a facial and pedicure as well.”

  I frown and shake my head. “You must be mistaken. My friends just bought me the massage.”

  She consults her computer again and nods. “It says right here you’re scheduled for a facial and a pedicure, courtesy of Mr. Baxter.”

  My jaw drops. The man is seriously over the top. But I am not going to refuse it. That would be rude, right?

  “Wow, okay.”

  I am buffed and polished from head to toe by the time I leave the spa. Every muscle in my body had been whimpering earlier, from the skiing and the bout of energetic sex last night, but now they’re sighing contentedly.

  What a lovely way to spend an afternoon. It’s much later than I anticipated when I approach Jeanette at the registration counter.

  “Do you work 24/7?”

  “No, I’m about to leave in just a few minutes. Bax left this for you.” She slides an envelope to me. “He’s a good man.”

  I nod slowly. “Yes, he is.”

  “Have a good night.” She gives me directions to his suite, then winks and turns away. His room is on the top floor of the lodge, tucked in the back of the building that faces the valley. I can’t wait to see the view from his windows.

  I knock, but when there’s no answer, I unlock the door and push inside. I flip on the lights and see a note sitting on the table.

  Grace,

  I had to go handle another one of Jerry’s “issues.” I’ll be back as soon as I can. Make yourself at home, love.

  Jacob

  I flip the switch for the gas fireplace and watch it come to life, then open the blinds and stare out at the valley below.

  Holy million-dollar view.

  Cunningham Falls and the lake are spread before me. Dusk is descending, and lights twinkle in the town. I walk through the living area that has a full kitchen and dining area attached, down a hallway. There are two small bedrooms, a bathroom, and finally the master bedroom with a huge four-poster dominating the room. The linens are white, crisp, and clean. My bag is on the floor of the walk-in closet and my clothes have been hung.

  I walk into the bathroom to find my toiletries mingled with Jacob’s.

  It feels weird to see my things with his. I’ve never shared space with a man before.

  I suddenly hear the front door open and I hurry out to meet him.

  He’s pushing a room service cart. His hair is a bit messy from his fingers combing through it. He’s changed into a green V-neck sweater and jeans and is just pure deliciousness.

  “G’day, mate! Did you bring me some Vegemite?”

  “That’s Australia, darling.” He laughs and catches me up in a hug. “And I don’t recommend the Vegemite. It’s an acquired taste.” He wrinkles his nose and shudders. “But I did bring dinner, because now that I have you here, we won’t be leaving again, and I don’t want any interruptions.”

  “Do all of the single female customers get this ki
nd of attention?” I ask with a smile.

  “As a matter of fact,” he replies, while setting out our dinner, “I don’t remember the last night I spent with a woman. They tend to get too attached, make assumptions, and it’s just best all around if we don’t make a night of it.”

  I inwardly cringe. Don’t ask a question you don’t want the answer to, Grace. I put on a brave smile and change the subject.

  “You spoiled me today,” I say softly. “Thank you.”

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  “Oh yes. I’m all buffed and polished and soft now.”

  He grins wickedly. “I can’t wait to see that for myself. But first . . .” He uncovers the plates and transfers them to the table. “I ordered us both pasta with Alfredo sauce and salads. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Sounds great. I’m starved.” I sit and dig in with gusto, moaning when the Alfredo sauce hits my tongue. “Dear sweet Jesus, that’s good.”

  “Keep making those sounds, love, and I’ll carry you to my bed straightaway.”

  I giggle and roll my eyes. “You’d think you’ve never seen a girl enjoy her food before.”

  “I love watching you enjoy everything. It’s a sight to behold.”

  “Blarney.” I shake my head and then drip sauce down the front of my shirt. “I’ll just save that for later.”

  “You’ll be out of that shirt soon enough, so it won’t matter. But I can have it cleaned for you if you like.”

  “No, it’s no biggie. I’ll wash it when I get home tomorrow.”

  He nods and takes another large bite of pasta. “So tell me more about yourself.”

  I frown and shrug. “I’m not terribly interesting. I think I already told you the highlights.”

  “You’re fascinating,” he disagrees and takes a sip of water. “Why don’t you speak to your parents?”

  I lower my fork to my plate and wipe my mouth with my napkin. Do I talk about this with him? I rarely talk about it with anyone.

  “This is a sordid story for another time,” I reply.

  “There’s no time like the present,” he replies, catching my gaze. “Talk to me.”

  I watch him for a long moment and then shrug. “I don’t speak to my parents because they’re both alcoholic assholes who enable each other and were always more interested in being in an liquor-induced coma than paying attention to their only child. I don’t respect them. I worked my ass off in high school so I’d have scholarships to go to any school I chose and left the day I graduated.”

  I wait for the change. The disgust. The pity. But he just takes another bite of food and watches me thoughtfully.

  “Those sound like good reasons.”

  I nod and look down at my plate, my appetite suddenly gone.

  “My parents weren’t alcoholics,” Jacob says quietly. “But after my brother died, they lost themselves in their grief. They divorced. Father lives in Paris. Mother stayed in London. I was mostly raised by housekeepers. I was too old for a nanny.”

  My eyes meet his, and in this moment I’ve never felt this kind of connection to another human being. There is no pity or disgust.

  Just understanding.

  “Are you about ready for dessert?” He smiles gently and I know that I could easily fall in love with this man.

  “Ready when you are.”

  chapter 8

  He stands, pulls a freshly corked bottle of champagne from a bucket of ice, and uncovers a bowl of strawberries. “Follow me.”

  “No glasses?”

  “We don’t need them.” He leads me into one of the spare bedrooms and sets the bubbly and berries on a bedside table before turning to me. “I will make love to you in my bed tonight, but first we’re going to make a mess and I won’t have you sleeping in that.”

  “Good plan.”

  “Remove your clothes, Grace.” There’s no please at the end of the sentence, as it’s not a request. It’s a command, one I’m perfectly content to obey. I slip my sweater over my head, then shimmy out of my jeans and stand before him in just my bra and panties. He cocks a brow. “You’re not fully undressed.”

  “You could help with these.”

  “No.”

  Now it’s my turn to cock a brow and turn my back to him. I unclasp my bra and let it fall to the floor. All he can see is my naked back, and I hear him chuckle at my stubbornness as well as his own clothing rustling. Next I hook my thumbs in my panties, slowly working them over my hips and down my legs to step out of them.

  “Turn around.”

  I do and about swallow my tongue when I see his magnificent naked body standing before me. His erection is thick and heavy. His body is golden and firm, with little hair, and in the soft glow of the lamp beside the bed he reminds me of a Norse god.

  “You are beautiful,” I whisper. His eyes flare and he reaches for me, lifts me into his arms and kisses me silly as I wrap my legs around his waist, his cock nestled against my core.

  “I’m going to tease you in the most delicious of ways,” he murmurs softly as he pulls the covers back on the queen-size bed and lays me down gently. He plucks a strawberry out of the bowl and bites into it, then offers me the other half while it’s still propped in his teeth. I take a bite and as the juices flow down my chin, he kisses me, lapping at the sweet juice.

  “Mmm . . . Grace and strawberries. Delicious.”

  I grin and watch as he reaches for the champagne. “This is going to be cold,” he warns softly as he tips it over me and drizzles just a light stream of the cold, bubbly wine down my torso, between my breasts to my navel, then leans in and licks it up, nibbling and tugging on my skin.

  “Jacob,” I breathe, and writhe beneath him.

  “You’re right, that was rude.” He chuckles and tips the bottle, pouring just a sip into my mouth. “Another strawberry?”

  He repeats the process from before, enjoying the red fruit with me, kissing me as we chew it, then pouring more wine on my belly.

  “You’re fucking delicious,” he growls before pouring a small splash onto my pussy, sending my hips bucking into the air from the cold and the sensation of the liquid against my clit. He sets the bottle on the floor and dives in, lapping at my lips, gently tugging them with his teeth and sucking them again. He licks up to my clit and pushes two fingers inside me, finding my sweet spot.

  “Oh fucking hell,” I whisper, lost to him and the delicious things he’s doing to me.

  “That’s right, love. God, you’re bloody sexy.” I love how his accent thickens when he’s turned on. “Look at how pink your pussy is. How swollen.”

  “My turn,” I whimper. God, I want to drive him as crazy as he’s making me.

  “Your turn?”

  “Fuck yes, I want to torture you for a while, Sir Baxter.”

  He chuckles as he kisses up my body, settles in to suck, nibble, and generally torture my nipples, then kisses up my neck to my mouth.

  “I think you’re stuck to me now,” I whisper against his lips. The champagne has turned sticky. He slowly peels himself off me and then flops onto his back and I reach for the strawberries.

  I nibble the end off, then trace the fruit over Jacob’s nipples and navel. The juice runs down his sides but I don’t make a move to lick it up. Not yet.

  “I like making a mess,” I murmur with a wicked grin.

  “So I see,” he replies. “Are you going to clean it up?”

  “Eventually.” I grab the champagne and tip it over his torso, drizzling it gently over his nipples and down to his navel. I lean in and lick around his navel, drink the champagne, and then nibble my way up to his nipples, sucking them gently. I reach down, grab his hard cock in my hand and give it two firm pumps, then brush my thumb over the tip and feel a bead of wetness.

  “You like this.”

  “I fucking love it, darling.” His green eyes are on fire as he stares down at me, watching me devour and explore his body. I move onto my knees at his side and push my ass in the air as my lips travel down th
e trail of hair to his cock. His hand cups my ass and rubs it softly, then slaps it firmly before caressing it again. “Your ass is brilliant.”

  “I’m going to suck your cock, Jacob.”

  With a growl, he pushes me back, and before I know it, he’s lifted me in his arms and is stalking through the suite to his master bathroom.

  “Hey, I was having fun!”

  “I need to get you into the shower, wash you off, and bury my cock inside you, love.”

  His words thrill me, but he’s not off the hook. I want to suck his cock, and by God, I will.

  He sets me on the counter, braces his hands on either side of my hips, and kisses me like a man starved. I grip his hips and hold on, riding the waves of lust that pour off of him.

  Finally, he backs away, gasping, and rests his forehead against mine. “I’m going to turn on the shower. Don’t move.”

  “I don’t think I can move.”

  He grins wickedly, then turns away to start the water in the large glass-enclosed shower. The tile is green, the same color as his eyes.

  When he’s satisfied with the temperature, he lifts me off the counter and carries me to the shower.

  “I’m capable of walking. I can’t guarantee that I won’t fall on my ass, but I can walk.”

  “I like carrying you,” he whispers, and presses his face to my neck before setting me on my feet. “You’re a tiny thing.”

  “It’s a good thing, or it would hurt like a bitch when I fall.” I grin up at him, but sober when I see the intense look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

  He shakes his head and reaches for a washcloth and soap. “Nothing at all. You’re just stunning in my shower. The green makes your eyes glow.”

  He washes the champagne and strawberries off of my body, paying close attention to my breasts and pussy, and just when he’s about to wash himself, I shake my head and take the cloth from his hands.

  “Oh no. My turn, handsome.”

  He watches me quietly as I soap the cloth back up and run it over his chest, down his belly, and finally to his cock.