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Five minutes later, Grace had wrapped herself like a burrito in towels. I’d put one around my waist, more for her benefit than anything. She seemed to feel uncomfortable watching me walk around naked.

“Do you want to go back to the living room?” I asked.

She turned around, looking up at me. “What’s the alternative?”

“I can show you the upper level.” I put my hands on her shoulders, drawing my thumbs over her clavicle. “My bedroom is there.”

“I see. First you lure me to the house, then completely ravage me on the couch, and now you’re trying to lure me to your bedroom.”

I loved the playfulness in her voice. We’d come a long way, and I was honored that she trusted me, wanted me, and I wasn’t going to spoil that.

This woman was mine.

“That was my intention from the start, but...” I chuckled, shaking my head.

“What?” Grace asked.

“I’m used to being in control, though for some reason, I lose it when I’m with you.”

She licked her lips. “And you don’t like that?”

“I actually fucking love it. I don’t even know why.”

She smiled brilliantly. Not her society smile but the real one.

“All right, then. Lead me to your bedroom before we defile some other place in this house.”

I burst out laughing. “I like how you think, Grace, because that was on my mind as well.”

Chapter Eighteen

Grace

Zachary’s bed was the most comfortable place on the planet. When I woke up in the morning, I stretched my arms, shaking my ass against the mattress. It was fluffy but still firm. I’d had the best night’s sleep in forever.

I looked sideways, expecting to find Zachary in a very deep sleep, but the man wasn’t there at all. His blankets were all off the bed. But then again, my side was sheetless too.

It had gotten really hot in the evening, especially after our sexy activities, and we’d thrown the covers off. I sat up, glancing around with a grin. We’d pulled the sheet off at both corners. I smiled, thinking how at peace I felt. Completely the opposite to how I’d felt back at the ranch, when I’d been extremely nervous. I wondered why there was a difference. Was it because of the way he’d treated me back at the bar? He’d been so patient with me and seemed genuinely interested in knowing why I was uncomfortable.

Zachary was different from any man I’d ever dated. He wasn’t controlling or trying to overpower me. He actually cared about me, and that meant so much to me that I couldn’t even explain. Lais was right. I needed to get out more often, but she was right about Zachary too. He really was special.

Even though I loved the bed, I wanted to find out where he’d gone. I got up and grabbed the towel I’d laid out on the armchair in the corner after drying myself following my shower last night. It was still a bit damp, but it would do. I covered myself up.

I walked carefully down the steps, realizing music was blasting through the house. Zachary loved jazz—what a pleasant surprise. There were certain local things I loved to the moon and back, and jazz was one of them.

Downstairs, I spotted him leaning against the kitchen island. He was talking on the phone.

“Sure. Just let me know when you want to watch it, and we’ll do it. Yeah. You know me, I’m at your service. Yes. Of course I’ll bring beignets for my favorite girl.”

My chest tightened.Holy shit. My girl? No, no, no. I put a hand on my throat, swallowing hard, but I was having a bit of trouble breathing. My next intake of breath was audible.

Zachary glanced at me. “I’ll call you back later, okay?” As soon as he lowered his phone, he rushed to me.

“Grace, are you okay?” He tried to touch my arm, but I stepped back. He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“On the phone, who was that?” I knew I sounded accusing, but I couldn’t help it. I was distraught thinking he had another woman.

“What?”