FIFTEEN

Mark closed the hotel room door with a loud click. Leaning against the wall, he tipped his head back and released a low groan.

Holy. Fuck. That had been awkward. Mark should have known before the woman even answered that something was off. He was never asked to handle issues with guests. There was an entire staff for that. And if it went above their pay grade, Grace would step in. But Mark had been so thrown by their argument that when he’d gotten Peter’s call he hadn’t given it a second thought. In fact, he’d almost been grateful to have something to distract him. And a reason to stay away from the villa.

But this? Mark rocked his head against the wall and hoped the sharp tang of disgust would easily wash away with a large glass of Scotch. Or two.

Mark’s phone vibrated, and his desire for a stiff drink skyrocketed when he saw the message. And who it was from.

Hope you were able to satisfy the guest in room 3031. I hear she has very specific tastes.

Cursing, Mark stared at the screen as another bubble appeared, Grace still typing. When the text finally popped up Mark almost threw his phone against the opposite wall.

Or did you just ignore what she said and go straight for what you wanted? You know, your usual approach.

That was it. Mark was done trying to figure out why Grace was so mad. He wasn’t going to beg or plead for her to explain, but he also wasn’t going to just take the shit she had no problem throwing his way. Glaring at room 3031 one last time, Mark jammed his phone back into his pocket and stormed back to the villa.

Only, Grace wasn’t there. He checked all the rooms. Hers twice, thinking he may have missed her somehow. She was nowhere to be found, though the sight of the seashell goat standing cheerfully on her nightstand did give Mark the faintest wisp of relief. Until he saw the note he’d sent with it at the bottom of her trashcan, torn to shreds. 

Calling the main building, Mark nearly slammed the phone down when Carrie confirmed that Grace wasn’t in her office and hadn’t been for ages. Tessa was his next stop, but the pastry chef hadn’t heard from her friend either. After calling all of the departments, Mark heaved out a frustrated sigh before settling in to wait, Scotch glass in hand, bottle within easy reach.

Hours. Registering that the room had gone dark, Mark broke free of his alcohol-induced reverie to check his watch. Grace had been gone for hours. Setting down his empty glass, Mark ran his hands roughly over his thighs. He was exhausted. Exhausted of waiting. Exhausted of the uncertainty, of never knowing when Grace would turn to him with a smile or a scolding. Exhausted of pretending that somewhere along the line Grace hadn’t become just as important to him as the hotel. If not more so. And completely fucking exhausted of wanting Grace around all of the time. Laughing or yelling, kissing or fighting, talking or giving him the silent treatment; it didn’t matter whether she was torturing him with pleasure or just pissing him off, Mark wanted Grace constantly. He could think better when she was close, breathe better when she within reach. And he knew he would sleep better—shit, that he would sleep at last—with her body pressed tight to his.

Dragging himself from the chair, Mark wandered through the dark room to stand in front of the wide windows, looking down past the pool to the pitch-black ocean beyond. Their conversation from earlier was still fresh in his mind, and Mark couldn’t ignore the panic pricking along his spine. Grace was furious with him. To the point that he might lose her.

The hotel might lose her, he corrected himself. That’s what was important. The resort. Its success. What that meant to him and to Tristan. But Mark’s entire body was strung tight, every impulse demanding he find Grace. That he capture her, hold her tight, refuse to let her walk away. And beneath the suit and the concern for his cousin and the false warmth of the Scotch running through him, Mark knew he could spend the rest of the night trying to tell himself it was all about business. But that didn’t mean his heart would believe the lie his brain was trying to sell.

So. Royally. Screwed.

He was turning, heading back to the liquor bottle, when Mark heard the patio door on the lower level slide shut. His pulse kicking up another notch, he changed directions rapidly, his feet heavy as he raced down the stairs.

He didn’t bother knocking. The door to her bedroom was ajar and he pushed it open, the woman who’d been tormenting his thoughts for hours standing at the window, her back to him.

“Grace.”

She didn’t bother turning around, but Mark could see her shoulders straighten under the deep red silk of her dress. A dress that flowed effortlessly down her long back, breaking gently around the upper curve of her hips before falling in subtle waves above her knees. A simple, straightforward dress that was immensely suitable for the office, the demure cut doing nothing to conceal the anger that gripped her, the clean, unprovocative lines doing nothing to temper Mark’s desire to strip it off of her.     

“What do you want, Mark?” Grace spoke into the window, the fraught angles of her expression clear in the glass’s reflection.

“You abandoned our conversation.”

“No, Mark. You ended our conversation. I just left the room.”

“I did nothing of the sort.”

“You did.” Grace closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to the glass. “I asked you a question—an important question—and you just checked out. Closed up. Shut down. And gave me that look of yours.”

“Please,” Mark drawled, his voice knotted with anger. “There was no look, and you refused to tell me what’s pissed you off.”

Grace shook her head without lifting it from the glass. “You’re a smart guy. I thought you would have figured it out by now.”

“It doesn’t matter how smart I am, Grace. I’m not a fucking mind reader!” Mark shouted, anger and irritation and sexual frustration pushing him past the edge of desperation. 

But yelling didn’t make Grace back down. If anything, it made her rage spike higher. Pushing off from the window, Grace pivoted on one impossibly high heel and stalked towards him, the color high in her cheeks making her even more beautiful. And a little bit terrifying.

“You. Don’t. Get. To. Fucking. Yell. At. Me,” she spat at him, her mouth forming each word precisely. Lethally. “You don’t get to do what you did and turn around and yell at me when I finally find out. What the fuck, Mark? Do you think I’m stupid? That I’d never find out? Or do you really not want this to work? Please, explain it to me. Because from where I’m standing it looks like all three.”

With one step Mark cut the distance between them in half, his chest rising too quickly, his lungs too tight. Pinning her eyes with his, Mark reached for Grace’s hand and winced when she pulled away, his fingers closing around air. “None of it, Grace. None of those things are true. And I want this—you, me, this hotel, all of it—to work more than I could ever possibly say. But I cannot make this better if you refuse to tell me what’s going on.”

Mark held his breath as Grace considered him, her gray eyes moving slowly across his features like a creature assessing just how much damage their opponent could actually cause. Pain lanced through him as Mark realized Grace was preparing herself to be hurt. By him. More so than she already was.

Rolling his shoulders, Mark forced himself to relax, his jaw unclenching, his hands relaxing at his sides as he took a step back. Grace’s expression didn’t change, but she uncurled the fingers that up till that moment had been fisted at her sides.

“Jasper. And Marcus,” she stated, revolted. “When were you going to tell me about Jasper and Marcus?”

“Fuck.” Mark’s anger drained away. He should have known. Walking out of room 3031, he probably had known, underneath the surprise and disgust. Peter hadn’t been the one to send him. Grace had. 

“Well?” Interpreting his silence as avoidance, Grace prodded him.

“I’m sorry.” Mark shook his head. “I didn’t think…. I didn’t expect you to—”

“To what, Mark? To find out? I am the general manager of this hotel and you’re honestly telling me that you didn’t think I’d find out that my predecessor was running an escort service out of the same office I currently occupy?” Grace’s voice rose to a thready pitch, and she paused, visibly trying to regain some composure. She stepped closer and locked eyes with Mark. “That is what he—they—were doing, isn’t it? It’s the only explanation I can come up with. You have to tell me what they were doing.”

Mark wanted to look anywhere but Grace’s face. Wanted to pretend that none of it had happened, that he didn’t have to utter one word about the entire revolting mess. But he didn’t have a choice, not with Grace studying him so carefully, wordlessly demanding him to follow through on his promise. To let her in.

“Yes.” Mark nodded once. “That’s exactly what he was doing.” He cleared his throat with a cough. “What they were doing.”

Grace’s eyes widened at his confirmation, the truth draining the flush of anger from her face. She wobbled slightly on her heels, and Mark steadied her by lightly gripping one elbow. Grace continued to stare at him but didn’t back away. “Tell me. Everything. Now.”

Mark gave her an uncertain look. “Everything?”

“Now.” Grace made to pull her elbow from his grip but stopped when he nodded again.

“As you said,” Mark started, “Marcus was providing special services to certain guests. Exclusively female guests, by the look of it.”

“For how long?”

“I can’t be exactly sure.” Mark grimaced. “Several years, at least.”

“How?” Grace shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t understand….”

“I imagine somewhere along the line a guest made a request. Maybe it was innocent, a misunderstanding. Or maybe it sparked an idea. Marcus made a good living here, but I’ve since learned that he was living well outside of his means.”

Grace’s gaze wandered, a faraway look on her face. “That ridiculous car. His house.” She laughed once, the sound void of humor. “You wouldn’t know it to look at him. His suits were always too big, his hair always in need of a cut. But that man loved his fancy toys.”

“Exactly,” Mark concurred. “Somewhere along the line he got deep into debt and needed a way out. And however the idea came to life, he found a way to make a healthy amount of money on the side and didn’t look back.”

“How did it work, exactly?”

Mark shrugged. “From what I can tell, he had a select list of clients. Women, repeat guests who used the services frequently. I don’t know how the word spread. Probably word of mouth. One too many cocktails, one too many hours spent under the sun. Inhibitions dropped, tongues wagged. However it worked, he had quite a collection going. No less than twenty, from what I can tell.”

“Twenty?” Grace looked ill. “Fuck.”

“At least,” Mark murmured.

“And were they all….” Grace swallowed, her skin taking on a greenish hue. “Were all twenty-plus women, umm, serviced by…shit!” Grace wrapped her fingers around Mark’s arm and steadied herself. “Where they all being fucked by the same guy?”

“You mean Jasper?” Mark held her elbow tighter as a shiver of revulsion raced across her.

“Yes,” she managed to get out. “Was Jasper fucking all of them?”

“No.” Mark shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not all of them.”

“Thank God.” Grace collapsed into him, and Mark shifted quickly, catching her against his chest. “Ugg, to think….” Her lips tickled the skin of his neck, and Mark let himself relax into her for a moment, his chin coming to rest on the top of her head.

“Jasper wasn’t the only one, Grace,” he continued, “but I do think he was the primary….”

“Don’t say it. Please,” she whispered back. “I know I wanted you explain everything. But this? No.” Her nose shifted against his clavicle as she rocked her head. “I don’t want to…I can’t hear it. I don’t want to know how many women he was screwing.”

“Okay,” he replied, happy to stay quiet if that meant he got to hold her longer.

After another moment Grace pulled away. Mark let go without protest and ignored the not-so-little voice in his head demanding he haul her back.

“Okay?” he asked, skimming his eyes across her face. She was pale and her eyes oddly flat, but whatever unease Grace had felt minutes ago was carefully concealed behind a bland expression.

“Yes. Thanks.” She looked away before smoothing down her dress. “Please, continue.”

“Okay, well. Yes. Jasper wasn’t the only escort. To date, I know of at least four others.”

“Holy shit. You’re fucking kidding me. Marcus was whoring out five employees and I never heard a word about it. How does that even happen?” She turned and retreated to her original position by the window. When she spoke again her voice was brittle. “I was here, Mark. The entire time. Every single day. And I didn’t have a fucking clue. I don’t….” Grace dropped her head before propping her hands on her hips, defeat visible in the exaggerated slope of her back. “How could I miss something so awful. Shit!” She punctuated her shout by slamming her hand against the window. “I was practically sleeping with Jasper. Of all of the fucking ridiculous, disgusting things.”

Mark came to stand behind her and tried to catch her attention in the window’s reflection, but Grace refused to meet his gaze. But she was aware of him enough to move out of his way, his hand falling short as he tried to lay it on her shoulder. 

“Just finish, Mark. Get it over with. How did you find out?”

“From a D&A employee, actually.”

“You’ve known since January.” It wasn’t a question, and Mark’s stomach sank at her harsh tone.

There was no point denying it. “Yes. I’ve known since January.”

“Right.” Grace gave a curt nod, like she was ticking a box on a list of infractions. When she said nothing else, Mark continued.

“The night before you came to this villa, the night before….”

“The night before I found you drunk and knocked out on the floor?”

“Yeah.” Mark scrubbed the back of his neck with one hand and vaguely wondered if he’d ever live that down. Or, if he didn’t, if it made a difference anymore. “Well, the night before was the final company party. Jasper was bartending and he caught the eye of one of our employees.”

“Who?”

“Does it matter?”

“There is only one detail I want you to omit, Mark. The rest, I want to hear. Understand?”

She was still staring out the window, but Mark was all too familiar with the expression he was sure she wore. “Jacklyn Simmons. One of our VPs. Apparently she found him charming and told him as much that night.”

“And he propositioned her?” Grace’s voice was all disgusted disbelief.

“No.” Mark almost laughed at the memory of the call he’d received that night. “Not exactly.” Mark tracked Grace’s reflection in the glass as she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, her teeth cutting sharply into the plump flesh, and stopped himself just before his hand came to rest on her hip. “Jacklyn called me later that night. Whatever she said to Jasper, well, he’d interpreted it as an opportunity to earn a little money on the side.”

Grace groaned, but Mark continued, anxious to have it over with.

“Sometime after the party wrapped, Jacklyn received a call in her room. From Marcus. Letting her know that if she was still interested, Jasper was available. For an in-room visit. For a fee.”

“And she called to tell you this? She wasn’t embarrassed to tell you that she’d more or less hit on the bartender?”

“No. She called right away.” Mark released a strangled laugh. “Jacklyn…well, she’s exacting. Rigid. Which makes her excellent at her job. But also means that she’s unforgiving when people overstep boundaries. And, well, none of us would argue that Marcus’s phone call wasn’t a clear overstepping of boundaries. So as soon as she hung up with him, she called me.”

“But.” Grace turned to look at him, and Mark was relieved that some color had returned to her face. “Why didn’t you confront him that night? Why did you wait until the next morning to try to track him down?”

“Because, Grace,” Mark confessed, “I was drunk. Three fucking sheets to the wind. That was the same night that Jack and I confronted my uncle on a call with our entire board of directors. The same night that we managed—by the thinnest fucking thread, I might add—to save our company and get Max kicked out as chairman. Which happened to be the same night that Jack figured out he wanted to be with Sadie so much that he was willing to leave D&A, that he was perfectly happy giving up everything we’d worked for for almost two decades just so he wouldn’t lose her.” Mark’s voice shook with remembered emotion, elation and desperation, confusion and resignation laced between each syllable.

“We’d been drinking for a while, and by the time Jacklyn called, long after Jack had left to find Sadie, well…I was shit-faced. Barely understood what she was telling me. Had to call her back in the morning to get the details straight. After which I started calling down to the front desk. But Marcus was avoiding me. First he refused my calls and then he just up and vanished. Which is when…well, you know what happened next.”

“Yes.” Grace was studying him, and it required a good deal of self-control for Mark not to squirm under her scrutiny.  

“How long did it take you to figure out the rest?”

“Not as long as you might think.” Mark shrugged. “I’d already heard rumors that the hotel might go up for sale, so it was fairly easy to have my numbers guys go through the accounts under the pretense of purchasing it. There were a few snags, some areas where we had to dig around a little deeper than usual. But Marcus was either incredibly conceited or just plain stupid. He did very little to cover the paper trail, and I had a chunk of the information I needed before we even managed to drag Jack out of his villa.”

“So you already knew before you purchased the apartment building, the one you turned into staff apartments?”

“Yes,” Mark confirmed, warily watching as she processed everything he was telling her. “Not all of it. But enough.”

Grace looked away and began plucking the bobby pins from her hair, her fingers ruthless as she tore apart the bun she’d secured at the base of her skull. Mark watched in mute fascination as a little more of her hair escaped with every tug, long, golden strands tumbling down as she collected the pins in one fist.

“And you knew when you offered me the job as GM?”

“Huh?” Mark heard her speak but completely missed her question.

“You knew, Mark.” Grace’s voice was sharp, her lips stiffening. “When you offered me the job of general manager you knew what had been going on. Knew that we were still employing people involved. And you didn’t tell me.”

Mark scrambled to come up with an answer that wouldn’t result in those bobby pins ending up lodged in his eyes, but he wasn’t fast enough.

“All those conversations we had. Here. In my office. On the beach. At dinner. Every single fucking time we talked about doing this together, collaborating, being open and honest and making sure the other was included. You knew that entire time and didn’t say a word.”

Mark closed his mouth and held his palms up, preparing for an onslaught of tiny, metal barbs, but Grace just clenched her fist tighter.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She wasn’t yelling. God, he wished she was yelling. It would be so much better than the cold indifference that caused his abdomen to flood with apprehension.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to make it worse.”

“Excuse me?” Grace looked at him like she thought he’d lost his mind. “You’re going to have to explain that to me.”

“Jasper,” he said on an exasperated sigh. “I knew about you and Jasper and I didn’t want to…I didn’t know how to tell you without making the whole thing worse.”

“How could you possibly have known about Jasper?”

“Peter let it slip.”

Grace stared at him, embarrassment coloring her cheeks even as confusion creased her forehead.

“That morning. When I went up to Jack’s villa and found Jasper with Sadie. Well, after I hauled him away I called hotel security and Peter came with them. In the confusion and shouting and keeping Jasper contained until the police showed up, Peter got to him. Began yelling at him. Screaming about how horrible he was. Demanding to know how he could have done that. To Sadie. To you.”

“Jesus,” Grace muttered, her eyes closing as she drifted away from him. And the second her back was turned Mark wished he could still see her face.

Following her to the window, Mark was careful to keep his distance. But he had to know.

“Grace.” He waited until she met his eyes in the flat reflection of the glass. “Did he…did Jasper ever…?” Mark dug his fingernails into his palms, cursing himself for not even being able to get out the words. The very idea of Jasper touching Grace, let alone hurting her, had his mind erasing all rational thought and a rage building that surpassed anything he’d ever experienced. Even with his uncle.

“No.” Grace shook her head clearly. “I mean, he was an absolute asshole. And I regret everything we ever did together. But he didn’t hurt me. Not like Sadie. Not like that.”

Mark closed his eyes as relief washed through him, his lips forming a prayer of thanks without him even realizing. But he quickly returned his attention to Grace when she dragged in a sharp breath.

“Is that what you think of me, Mark? That I’m frail and damaged and can’t possibly stand to hear about criminal activity that was happening under my nose while I was practically running the place?”

“What? No.” Mark held up his hands, trying to get her to stop, but Grace was facing him again, her eyes burning bright and cold.

“You hired me to do a job. A job you’ve said more than once you think I’m perfect for. So perfect, in fact, that you can’t be bothered to tell me the biggest fucking truth there is, Mark. It doesn’t matter what my personal relationship with Jasper might have been. This is my hotel.” She jabbed her finger emphatically at the floor. “My home, my livelihood. The place I have worked and stressed and agonized over for years. And I don’t know how I’m supposed to continue here if you’re willing to keep something so significant from me just because you think it will hurt my feelings.”

“Grace.” Mark forced her name past the constriction in his throat. “I never….” He shook his head. “I was going to tell you. We were just starting to get into our rhythm. And then with what happened on the beach that night….” Mark came forward and wrapped her hands in both of his, more worried than ever when they sat lifeless in his palms.

“Things were starting to work, weren’t they?” He didn’t stop long enough for her to answer. “You’re doing brilliantly as GM, handling everything so deftly. I’ve started to win you over with some of my ideas and you don’t immediately say no whenever I present something new.” Mark dropped his head, trying to conceal his rueful smile. “The restaurant overhaul, Tessa; we’re figuring this out, Grace. Not only that, we’re doing it and it’s working. And I didn’t want to backtrack. Not with this. Not when I was sure it was handled.”

“But you were wrong, weren’t you? Because it wasn’t handled.”

Mark felt her anger as Grace’s fingers tightened in his grip.

“The guest in 3031. She called Peter asking for Jasper. How many more of those calls can we expect? How many more times am I going to have to send you to some woman’s room to let her know that we aren’t in that sort of business anymore?”

“God, I hope never again.” Mark almost laughed, and Grace yanked herself free.

“This isn’t funny! This isn’t a fucking game. This is my life.” She was seething, and Mark tamped down a tinge of relief that some of her tell-tale spark had returned. “And not just mine. But Peter’s, and Carrie’s, and Davy’s, and soon Tessa’s. Not to mention hundreds of others. Shit, Mark. This is supposed to be Tristan’s life too, isn’t it?”

So. Royally. Screwed.

Mark stared at Grace and tried to figure out the last time he’d fucked up so badly. Not to mention the last time a woman—hell, anyone—had stood in front of him and pointed it out so clearly, so unforgivingly. Mark blinked as he registered that the small crevices of his body that weren’t currently filled with shame and embarrassment were glowing bright with pride. And absolute fucking adoration.

“You’re right.” He said it so quietly he barely heard the words over the pounding in his chest. “You’re right, Grace. I fucked up. I should have told you. I had no right to keep it from you. Not because of anything that happened in the past. And definitely not because I thought it was all over. ’Cause, shit, we know that isn’t true.” He pressed his palm above his heart and bent his knees, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I swear I won’t do it again. No more secrets. No more shutting you out. Never again.”

Mark held still as he waited for Grace to respond. With every second that ticked by, he felt his feet meld to the floor and his nerve endings prick in renewed alarm. His breathing had become painfully shallow by the time Grace finally spoke.

“That’s easy to say, Mark. But how am I supposed to trust you? How many times have we had this conversation? How many times did I think it would be the last? I feel like an idiot. Every time I believe you. And every time you prove I shouldn’t. What could possibly be different this time?”

“Everything…” Mark said, stepping forward. Grace retreated, moving backwards as quickly as he advanced. “Everything is different this time,” he said just inches from her mouth, her eyes wide as she looked up at him, her head pressed against the glass. “Every single thing that is important to me is here, Grace. I know that with absolute certainty. Just as I know that you, me, here, now, this—it is as right as anything I will ever find in my entire life. And I am so fucking tired of pretending that is anything other than the truth.”

“That,” Grace whispered, her eyes jumping rapidly between his, “doesn’t answer my question.”

Mark didn’t touch her. He wanted to. So badly. But he was already looming and he knew she hated it. But he wasn’t giving up until she knew this time was different. So he ignored the dryness in his throat and the burning in his fingers and the pulsing in his cock and kept himself ruthlessly in check, not one single inch of his frame touching hers.

“I will not lie to you, Grace.” Mark’s eyes bore into hers as he poured every ounce of conviction he could into his voice. “We are partners in this. And I promise I will not do anything to jeopardize that partnership ever again.”

“And if you do?”

Fuck him. Mark wanted to grin. Grace, always pushing him harder. And pulling him inextricably closer.

“And if I do, Grace, I leave. Tristan too. The hotel will be yours to manage. On your own, as you see fit. No interference from corporate.”

Mark held himself immobile as Grace considered his answer.

“Tristan too?”

“Tristan too. I’ll find a place for him somewhere else.”

“But”—Grace looked dazed—“you want him here so much, wasn’t that part of the point?”

“I want him here, yes. But you? I want you here more. So much more.”

“Mark—” 

Grace still looked uncertain, but some of the fight had vanished from her body. Her fingers fluttered against her thigh, and Mark clenched his own tight to stop himself from lacing their hands together.

“I’ll have my lawyers write up the paperwork in the morning, clearly stating that if I break our agreement the hotel becomes independent of Donovan Holdings management and under the sole control of the GM, Ms. Fitzgerald. We’ll sign it before the day is out. I mean it, Grace. You, me, the Seven Winds. We do it together. Or I don’t do it at all.”

“You’re certain?”

“As I’ve ever been about anything.”

Grace paused before continuing quietly, “Assuming you don’t break your word, assuming you don’t sign the Seven Winds over to me—are you planning on staying?”

His answer didn’t require any thought. “I am.”

Grace’s lips quirked. Not quite a smile, but definitely not a frown.

“For how long?”

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

Mark let Grace study him, his face, his eyes, the entreaty they held. The promise. He hoped, prayed she saw it. That she heard his words and read the sincerity in his eyes and understood the things he was trying to tell her but didn’t know how to say.

“You’re fucking nuts.” Grace’s chest trembled as she released a nervous laugh.

Mark took a small step forward, their legs brushing, his lungs finally able to expand freely, his self-restraint fraying rapidly. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

“And another?” Grace cocked a challenging eyebrow.

“Committed,” Mark murmured.

“I often think you should be,” Grace whispered even as she tracked the steady progress of his mouth towards hers.

Mark traced his fingers across the back of her hand and felt all of his blood rush to his groin when her entire body shuddered in response. “Do you believe me, Grace?”

Grace narrowed her eyes at him even as she let him lace his fingers through her own. “That depends,” she confessed. “Is there anything else you’re holding back, Mark?”

“No.” His answer was immediate. Definitive. And Grace looked like she was about to agree, but then the corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk.

Mark almost bit clear through his tongue when the fingers of her other hand skimmed the inside of his thigh, coming oh-so-close to touching his throbbing erection but never close enough.

“Oh, Mark,” Grace scolded. “Breaking your word so soon….”

Mark wasn’t sure when it had happened. When this woman had conquered him so completely. But underneath the taunting of her words and the heat of her fingers and the challenge in her eyes, Mark could hear the vulnerability that danced beneath the bravado and he felt himself come undone.

Slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, Mark slipped the fingers of his free hand deep into her loose hair and lifted Grace’s head from the glass, her curve of her skull resting in his palm. “No more holding back, Grace. Not for either of us.”