She could feel his heartbeat kick up even faster against her hand as he said, "I want you, Grace. You know how much I want you, how much I want all of those things, too. But I don't want to make the mistake of pushing you too far, too fast. You weren't ready for more Saturday night."
"You're right, I wasn't ready then. But now, I am."
She didn't want to be the only one seduced. She wanted to seduce, too. So that they were equals. So that she would stop feeling so off-balance. And so she would finally know whether he tasted as good as she'd fantasized he would.
"I need more. I need you the way you've had me."
Her eyes on his, she lifted his hands from her hips so that she could lower herself to her knees on the wood-planked floor.
*
Dylan lived only a couple of blocks from his boathouse. But he hadn't been able to wait long enough to travel those two blocks with Grace, to take those five minutes before stripping off her clothes. Instead, he'd given in--yet again--to his inner caveman and dragged her to the back of his workshop to strip her clothes away.
She'd said she needed to take things slow, but every time fierce desire drove them into another heated kiss, he felt her revel in the thrill of being with him. He loved watching her embrace her innate sensuality, the very same sensual woman she'd believed was forever dead because some asshole she used to date had a heart and soul made out of coal.
But even after she'd let herself go in the most beautiful way he'd ever seen, with her dress and lingerie lying on the wood-planked floor where he'd dropped them, he hadn't expected this. Hadn't thought she'd slide down the wall, naked but for her heels and flushed from her climax, to go on her knees in front of him.
Her hands were totally steady, and determined, as she worked on his belt buckle. He'd been on the edge for so long, since the moment he'd first set eyes on her outside his boathouse, that he wouldn't need much more to go off than this brush of her fingers over his denim-covered erection while he looked down at her beautiful naked body.
Her eyes were glittering with excitement and arousal as she smiled up at him. Just the thought of her pulling him free and wrapping her lips around him...
He had to close his eyes for a few seconds to try to get a grip, but even then he couldn't stop his hands from threading through her soft hair as she worked his zipper open. The sound she made as she wrapped her fingers around him, a hum of deep pleasure that resonated all the way through his entire body, nearly sent him over.
He couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stare down at Grace in awe. But she read his mind, thank God, understood that he wasn't going to last long this time. And when she leaned forward another couple of inches and took him into her mouth?
Jesus.
Nothing had ever felt this good. Not one damned thing in thirty-one years could compete with her soft lips, her wet tongue, the heat and pull of her mouth as she loved him the same way he'd just loved her.
His hands tightened in her hair as hers tightened on his hips. Time ceased to move forward. He wasn't even sure he was breathing anymore, as everything came down to this moment. This pleasure. This woman.
Grace. Grace. Grace.
Everything inside of him exploded, blindingly bright and colorful. He'd never experienced a storm so wild, or one so precious.
Moments later he was on his knees with her, their kisses even more passionate for all they'd just given--and taken--from each other. Only when the sound of footsteps came and he heard someone say his name was he able to drag his mouth from hers.
He looked into her eyes, still beautifully hazy with pleasure. "Someone's here." He knew they needed to get their clothes back on, but he couldn't stop himself from giving her another kiss before, and after, each word.
The second time the visitor called his name, her eyes went wide as what he'd just said finally registered. "Someone's here," she echoed.
Grace scrambled for her dress, but Dylan was already drawing it over her head. They were both on their feet again, her lingerie shoved into the pocket of his jeans, when his visitor poked his head around the hull of the boat and saw them in the back corner.
"Ah, there you are, Dylan. Grace, it's good to see you again."
His brother Adam looked far too pleased by what he saw. Dylan had walked in on his brother once when they were teens, and he had no doubt his brother saw this as payback.
Grace's skin was flushed, both from their kisses and from obvious embarrassment at nearly being caught without their clothes on, but Dylan was impressed by the lift of her chin. Her strength had drawn him from the start, and he loved the way she calmly met his brother's eyes.
"It's good to see you, too, Adam," she said smoothly, despite the fact that her underwear was stuffed into Dylan's jeans pocket.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," his brother said, even though he knew damn well that he was.
Grace raised an eyebrow in Adam's direction, the same look he'd seen her give Mason once when he was misbehaving at the aquarium. A warning not to mess with her. "Actually," she said with a small smile, "your timing was perfect." Turning back to Dylan, she said, "I need to get back to my babysitter now."
He wanted to reach for her, wanted his brother--and the rest of the world--to know for sure that she wasn't just a journalist doing a story on him or just a sexy fling. She was his. And yet, he knew he couldn't force anything, knew that no matter the physical barriers they'd begun to knock down between them, she'd only resent him if he tried to push her faster than she was ready to go.
Thankfully, though, instead of simply walking away, she reached up to put her hand on his face and then went on her tippy-toes in her heels to press her mouth to his in a soft kiss. She was smiling when she pulled back. "'Bye."
*
"I knew when you called us together last night that things were serious," Adam said, "but seeing you two together today? Love at first sight has clearly struck again. It's like an epidemic in this family."
Dylan only grinned. "You know what they say--the longer you hold out, the harder you fall. Which means you're going to be dust when it happens to you."
"Nope," Adam insisted. "At least one of us has to keep having fun. Do you know what you're doing, gunning for a ready-made family with Grace and Mason?"
Adam might think he was happy with his parade of one-night stands who had nothing of substance to say outside of the bedroom, but his brother didn't have a damn clue what he was missing. No-strings fun got real old, real fast.
Grace's beauty, her innate sensuality, had been what had drawn Dylan in at first. And every time they touched, he knew how perfectly matched they were as man and woman. But it was her resilience and strength that had solidified his knowledge that she was the right woman to go the distance with. He'd grown up with a strong woman leading their family, and he couldn't imagine settling for anything less than the example their mother had provided. Grace was everything he could ever have wanted. Everything he could ever have wished for.
"If there was a chance that she'd agree to marry me today, I'd jump at it."
Adam studied him for a moment before nodding. "She makes you happy. A different kind of happy than you've always been."
"Trust me, you'll understand once it happens to you."
Deliberately ignoring that last statement, Adam said, "While nearly walking in on the two of you going at it was fun, I'm here because I've got a favor to ask. Turns out the city is planning to tear down the old Maritime Museum to rebuild something flashy and modern."
Dylan frowned. "I thought that had been tabled for the time being so that more people could weigh in."
"Not according to what I just heard this morning from a friend on the board."
"The place needs a hell of a lot of work, but there's major history in that building."
"I know. That's why I'm going to convince them to let me restore it instead. Which is where you come in. You not only speak their language, but you've built boats for half the people on the
board. They're having a cocktail event in a couple of days. It would be great if you and Grace could come."
"I'm in, and I'll check with Grace," Dylan said. "In return, I could use an extra pair of hands putting the final coat of urethane on the boat."
"Man, this sloop is a beauty," Adam said, already rolling up his sleeves to help. "You've built some great boats, but I think this one might be your finest yet. Your client is one lucky S.O.B."
Dylan grinned, said, "I agree," and for the next few hours enjoyed working side by side with his brother on a boat that he had no idea was already his.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Grace wrote like crazy the next day while Mason napped. She hadn't yet finished transcribing yesterday's interview with Dylan, but she wanted to make some forward progress, so she started writing. The saying went that it was easier to edit a page with words on it, rather than a blank one, and doing the bulk of her writing while Mason slept meant she'd gotten used to creativity on command. Unfortunately, ninety minutes later, as she reread what she'd written so far, she wasn't particularly impressed with any of it.
Maybe she simply needed to get up from her computer for a little while. She went into the kitchen to pour herself another cup of coffee, but as she brought it to her lips she realized she didn't want it. It was the same with the trusty Hershey's Kisses she kept in the freezer. A little chocolate melting on her tongue wouldn't do anything to cure her restlessness, or a mind that was jumping around.
It wasn't creativity on command that was messing with her productivity. Nor was the problem the fairly tight deadline for the cover story. It was the fact that her head--and body--were still reeling from being with Dylan yesterday. From the risks they'd taken...and how much she'd loved every second of taking those risks, even if she shouldn't have, and they'd nearly been caught naked in each other's arms by his brother.
She'd been spinning from Dylan's taste, from everything he'd said both during the interview and then after, when her clothes were coming off and his were, too. Now, she forced herself to admit the real reason she hadn't wanted to transcribe the interview today: She'd been afraid of what hearing his voice would do to her. Of what it would make her feel.
Because she was already feeling so much. Too much.
Grace had never fallen so fast for anyone. Never thought it was possible to begin to care so deeply for someone so quickly--or to crave him so wholly--especially when she, of all people, should know better than to lose her head, or her heart, over another handsome, charismatic man.
Only, even as she thought it, she knew she wasn't being fair to Dylan. Yes, he was handsome. Yes, he was powerful. But he was so much more than just that. He was fun. He was sweet. He was talented. He was devoted to his family. He was adorable with Mason. And he wanted to protect them both.
Yesterday in his boathouse, when she'd taken him the same way he'd taken her, she'd hoped that giving him pleasure would help her feel more in control. Less off-balance. But it hadn't worked. Not in the slightest, given that she'd left his boathouse as far off-balance as she'd ever been.
Mostly because she couldn't stop rethinking everything--everything she'd been so sure about since Mason. Namely that she had to be strong all by herself. And that she had to pay for her stupidity with her ex by always doing the safe thing, by remaining in perfect control forevermore.
Knowing Mason would be up soon, and that her deadline wasn't going anywhere regardless of how twisted up she felt inside, she was sitting back down behind her computer when she knocked her notebook to the floor. Reaching for it, she realized it had fallen open to a William Shakespeare quote from Much Ado About Nothing.
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men are deceivers ever,
One foot in sea and one on shore,
To one thing constant never.
Dylan, she already knew, would never willingly deceive her, would never reel her in just for a laugh. But at his core he was a sailor. One whom she doubted would ever be as happy on land as he was out on the sea. Sailing was considered to be the great escape. And after all, wasn't that when Dylan had turned to sailing--when his father had lost his job, times had been rough for his family, and it had become his passion, as well?
And yet, at the same time, how could she forget what he'd said yesterday during their second interview: "The magic of a night sea is one that can only be matched, and transcended, by one thing. By love."
As if Mason knew that his mother was desperate for a distraction from thoughts that were careening from one end of her mind to the other, he woke up from his nap. After a quick diaper change, she gathered up a snack, a bottle, and a change of clothes and put them all in the bottom of his stroller.
"What do you say you and I head out to the park and let some fresh air clear our heads?"
Her son's eyes lit up at the word park just as her phone rang. When she saw Dylan's name on the screen, she knew she lit up in exactly the same way.
She should probably let it ring, give herself a little space to keep thinking things through. But from the first, Dylan had been a gift she hadn't been able to deny herself. Or her son, whom she'd seen laugh more with him than with anyone else.
"I was sitting here missing you and Mason," Dylan told her when she picked up, "so I thought I'd call." Mason giggled as she handed him his stuffed giraffe and accidentally knocked him in the nose with its fluffy tail. "Your kid has the best laugh."
"He really does, doesn't he?"
"He gets it from his beautiful mother."
It felt as though Dylan knew every secret code to unlock all the locked-down parts of her heart. And even when she knew she should make sure the two of them stuck to slow, it was the last thing she wanted--and not just because every kiss, every caress he gave her felt so good. Just being with Dylan made her happy.
Happier than she'd been in a very long time.
"We're going to the playground if you want to take a little break."
"The playground sounds like the perfect place to celebrate."
"Celebrate?" She quickly guessed, "Are you done with the boat?"
"Adam helped me with a few finishing touches last night."
"He's going to be so thrilled when he finds out it's his. When are you going to tell them all?"
"Soon. Once I return from my trip to Australia, everyone else should be back in Seattle again, too."
"You're going to Australia?" She realized, too late, that she sounded like a girlfriend trying to keep track of her boyfriend's schedule.
"I leave Thursday for a seven-hundred-mile yacht race out of Sydney. I'll only be gone a week, but I'm going to miss you and Mason like crazy, Grace. If I hadn't promised my friend a year ago that I'd do this--"
"The race sounds amazing," she said, ruthlessly pushing away the ache inside of her at the thought of not seeing Dylan for an entire week. Fun, she reminded herself. They were just having fun, enjoying each other while they were working together on her magazine article.
And that was all she could let herself believe it was for now, because fun wasn't something she needed to overthink. Fun wasn't something she needed to worry over. Fun wasn't something she needed to have a foolproof plan or an escape hatch nailed down for.
"I'll have a little over a week left to finish my story after you return, so hopefully you'll come back with some good stories for me."
Just then, Mason threw his giraffe and she knew he was tired of being strapped into his stroller without going anywhere. "We'll be at the playground right across the street. See you soon."
And despite not yet knowing exactly how to get a handle on her relationship with Dylan--one that already felt so much more important than any fun fling she'd ever had--it was a thrill to know that she would.
*
Fifteen minutes later, Mason was happily tucked into a toddler swing and squealing with joy as she pushed him higher and higher. He was a little daredevil, much like her parents had always said she'd been as a child, and she vowed never to let h
er own fears hold him back. She would support him in everything, no matter how dangerous or wild. Just as she had learned that Claudia Sullivan had done with her children.
The urge to protect her son from anything that might hurt him was all-consuming. But she knew better, knew that if her parents had still been alive, they'd have urged her to remember that giving him wings to fly was just as important as keeping him safe.
Or, she thought with a little smile, maybe he'd end up choosing a boat in which to sail across the deep blue sea. Lost in her thoughts, it wasn't until Mason started making happy little sounds that she realized Dylan was walking straight toward them. She heard a collective gasp of female appreciation from the other women in the park as he stepped onto the sandy playground in jeans and a T-shirt that fit him so well her own mouth went dry. Not in the least because she finally knew exactly how good he looked without said jeans and T-shirt.
He grabbed Mason's swing in midair, and her son puckered up for a kiss. That kiss was always the first thing Mason wanted, and it never failed to move her how easily and sweetly affectionate Dylan was with her little boy.
When Mason looked over his shoulder at her, Dylan grinned and said, "One for him, one for you."
Setting Mason back to flying in his swing with one hand, he used the other to pull her close, then kissed her slowly and deeply in front of everyone...sending her heart flying, too.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When they were finally able to take Mason away from the park without too much of a fuss, the three of them headed to the ice cream shop. Playing at the park. Getting ice cream. Sharing hot kisses. See, Grace told herself, we're just having fun.
Leaving Mason sitting proudly like a big boy beside Dylan outside the ice cream store with his little legs sticking straight out in front of him on the brightly painted bench, she went inside and placed their orders. Five minutes later, she returned with her hands full.
"Here's your rainbow sorbet, sweet pea." Mason reached for the cone and immediately shoved it against his lips, bright green, orange, and pink streaks smearing his chubby cheeks. "And our banana split and two lemonades."