Grace Unchained

9: Don't Let It Linger

She woke in his bed, feeling surprisingly rested. He had already gotten up. She enjoyed the feeling of his luxurious sheets on her bare skin for a few more minutes before reluctantly sitting up, clutching the comforter to her breasts.

The rest of last night was fuzzy—the combination of the wine and the fact that she was simply exhausted had led to her falling asleep on the ride home, a fact she might have been mortified by if Marcus hadn't taken it in stride.

She'd woken when he pulled into the long driveway, gasping and clapping a hand to her mouth. He'd only smiled, brushing off her apologies. In the cavernous garage, he'd opened her door for her and led her into the house, an arm draped casually about her waist.

When they got to the bedroom he sat her down on the bench at the foot of the bed and removed her shoes, one by one, caressing her sore feet until a moan of relief escaped her tired lips. Taking her hand, he helped her out of her dress, gently tugging off her well used panties and unhooking her bra, then led her to the side of the bed and pulled back the covers.

Tired and beyond being shy about being naked in front of him, Grace had looked up at him and waited, part of her wanting him to use her like he had before and another part wanting only to sleep. She'd had more sex in the past day than she had in the previous two years, and it had been both exhilarating and overwhelming. She wanted more, but she was also afraid of getting what she wanted.

Marcus, however, only tucked the covers around her tenderly and stroked her chin with a knuckle.

"You need to sleep," he'd said. She did so, her eyes fluttering closed before he'd even left her side.

Pushing down a resurgence of the embarrassment she'd felt last night—focusing on it would only make things worse—Grace got out of bed to find that a robe had been laid out for her on a chair beside the bed. She wrapped herself in it, not bothering with underwear just yet, and was wondering how inappropriate it would be to find coffee half-naked when the bedroom's double doors opened.

Edward came in pushing a cart, followed by Marcus himself. The cart featured a coffee service, which got Grace's immediate attention, along with a pastry selection and a bowl of fruit.

"Coffee, madam?" asked Edward, brandishing the silver carafe.

"Absolutely," said Grace. Marcus, who was wearing a matching robe over a plain t-shirt and pajama pants, gave her an oddly casual peck on the cheek and took her hand as he walked by, pulling her along behind him. He led her through the French doors onto the patio where she'd sat yesterday while he worked. She expected to be chilly, but found that the morning was, again, unseasonably warm.

"Ah, autumn in New England," quipped Marcus, pulling out one of the patio chairs for her.

Grace sat, arranging her robe to cover her bare legs, and inhaled deeply when Edward, who had followed them with the cart, set a china cup full of dark coffee down in front of her.

"We can take it from here, Edward," said Marcus, taking the seat next to Grace. He reached over to the cart and poured his own cup of coffee. Grace mixed milk and sugar into her coffee from the silver service, taking a long, deep sip before speaking.

She looked over to find Marcus smiling at her. "I like a woman who likes coffee."

"Like isn't really the right word for it," said Grace. "This is very good, by the way."