Page 47 of Grace
Being with Grace is shockingly easy. It’s comfortable and feels natural just working with her in this very claustrophobic kitchen. She hums along to the music, moving her hips slightly, and has me try everything she makes. It’s adorable and so touching that she cares about my opinion even though she’s the one who’s an expert in the kitchen.
She makes putting together a lasagna an art, and she can manage it all.
Our conversation is just as natural, talking about when we were kids in the kitchen, stories about our favorite foods, the best restaurants we’ve been to, which leads to us both telling stories about being with friends. Grace gets quieter on those, but I notice she’s bringing up Ashley more.
My sweet little darling is coming out of her shell more and more. I haven’t met Ashley, but I already appreciate the girl for encouraging Grace so much. Grace sighs as we layer the noodles, the cheese, and the meat.
She laughs when I playfully lay a noodle incorrectly and looks at me over her shoulder, her big, green eyes sparkling. “Maybe I should have suggested meat pies instead if you’re going to lay noodles like that.”
“It adds some flair,” I tease.
She laughs lightly. “Why not!”
She doesn’t correct it right away, but just as I move to ladle some of the meat, I notice her correcting it. I tap the spoon against her nose, making her gasp, then lick the sauce off her, listening as she squeaks and giggles.
Any doubt I had about coming over here is gone. I never expected things to be so right with her. I was sure we’d be fine sexually, but seeing how she’s capable at work, and now in the kitchen, with how she handles rumors, how she lights up a room and always tries to be positive instead of spreading rumors or being vindictive… she’s a true prize.
I never thought that we’d take whatever it is that we have outside of the office, but now that we’re here, I can’t believe that we didn’t do this sooner. It seems like a shame.
Even though I shouldn’t be, I’m glad we’ve taken this step. I’m even happier that she initiated it.
As she bends over to put our finished lasagna in the oven, my control slips and I run my hands over her ass. She squirms and glances back at me. It’s the same look she’s given me whenever there’s been a short break in our conversation.
She doesn’t know what to do with me, but it’s more. There’s something on her mind that keeps her squirming, keeps her from acting on any lust that she does feel for me. I tried to show her yesterday in the office that her touch does plenty for me, but there’s something that’s still hesitant about her.
I can’t expect her to slide out of her shell all at once, but I’m still frustrated that she’s hiding something from me.
I lead her from the kitchen and to the couch. “What’s on your mind, Grace? I can’t help if I don’t know.”
“It’s nothing,” she says quickly. “I’m happy you’re here.”
I level our gazes, making sure she knows how serious I am. “I want you to feel comfortable enough to tell me anything. If you don’t feel that, I’m worried I’m doing something wrong. I’d always rather you tell me, no matter whether I’ll like it or not.”
She takes an uneven breath. “I’m wondering if I’ll ever be able to touch you,” she whispers.
I stare at her. Shewantsto touch me? Doesn’t she realize that I’m fully satisfied just by pleasuring her, just by making her come?
She puts both of her hands on my chest. “If you don’t want me to, that’s okay! It is. I won’t ask you to do something you’re not comfortable with. I was just wondering because it seems like everything’s about me, but I want to… never mind.”
I clear my throat. “What would you want to do?”
“I don’t know,” she says slowly, her cheeks going red. “I want to know how you feel… how you… how you taste.”
Fuck, she should not look so damn adorable, so sexy, saying that. She nibbles her bottom lip and stares at me from under her lashes. That look, combined with her words, has me hard immediately. I take a slow breath, but control is just out of reach.
I told myself that I’d limit what we could do because if we go all the way, this isn’t a game anymore. It’s not casual. As it is, I feel addicted to her. Making her moan, making her smile, building her up into the woman I know she can be… it’s something I can’t stop myself from doing, but if we go further…
“Have you ever done something like that?” I ask.
She nods slowly. “Yes. I did with… you know…” She doesn’t say Bash’s name, which is a blessing. “But I never really liked it. I didn’t like most of the things we did, but with you it’s different. I… Ireallyenjoy everything we do together, Daniel.”
She does exactly what I want, opening up to me, telling me what’s on her mind, but I don’t know if I can match that. Not yet. It involves revealing too many things that could hurt us. Plus, I’m not stupid. I know what will happen if we try to take this public.
Instead, I focus on the important question at the moment. “When’s your roommate coming home?”
“Ehm… not until later, I think. She mostly works evenings.” She shrugs. “Just thirty more minutes, then the lasagna is done. Let me wash my hands and clean up a little.”
I watch Grace take care of things. She piles dishes in the sink, washes her hands, and wipes down the counter. I’m sure if I don’t catch her, I’ll lose to the dishes. So, I grab our glasses of wine and put them on the coffee table. I sit down on the couch, drawing Grace’s attention. She’s hyperaware of me, as always. I clear my throat as I take her in. She continues putting things away, her hair sliding around her shoulders as she moves, her freckles so obvious on her face. She’s beautiful, no matter what she does.
