An Ounce of Hope (A Pound of Flesh #2)

by Sophie Jackson

  “Hey, Adele,” Carla called over her shoulder to the brown-haired woman.

  That’s right. Adele.

  “Looks like your man’s in the lead.”

  “Shut up,” Adele retorted, closing her large hazel eyes and lying back on her lounger, her flat stomach unblemished and toned in her blue two-piece. “It was one lousy kiss. It’s not like I slept with the guy.”

  Grace frowned at Ruby in question, who mouthed, “Caleb.” Ah. Clearly, there’d been some shenanigans after she and Max had gone to bed. Interesting.

  Max strode from the water, ribbing Buck about kicking his ass in the water again and pushing his black hair back from his forehead. His whole body shifted in a way that Grace had only ever seen on predator nature programs. Like a wildcat or something, he was all sinewy and sensual. Christ. She pressed her beer bottle to her cheek; the sun was already getting to her and her libido. What was it about the summer that had everyone’s lustometer on high alert?

  Max smirked as he approached. “You made it. Did you get some food?” He cocked an eyebrow at her clothing and lifted the hem of the T-shirt to her ribs. “This looks familiar.”

  “Yeah,” Grace answered, quickly pushing it back down. She lowered her voice. “I hope you don’t mind. I saw it on your bag and it covers up the parts that I don’t want—you know, my skin where— I’ll wash it and—”

  Her ramblings were stopped by Max’s fingers on her lips. He chuckled. “It’s fine. Whatever you’re comfortable in.” He lifted his fingers and looked her over. “Remember, they’re what you survived.”

  And just like that, Grace’s breath vanished.

  “Hey, Max, you wanna give me a hand over here, man?”

  Max turned and headed toward where Josh was standing with a selection of chairs and water-friendly toys, making Grace gasp. The tattoo she’d seen on Max’s shoulder was a tiny part of a piece of artwork that stretched right across from one shoulder to the other like angel’s wings. Black feathers, so detailed they looked almost real, reached out across his skin, meeting at his spine and running all the way down to the small of his back, where the name Christopher curved in an arch, under which was a date and the words “ad infinitum.”

  Apart from the black, which Grace had seen previously, no other part of the tattoo extended to the front of his body. Like an inked secret few knew about, Max’s tattoo was as beautiful as he was and posed even more questions.

  Grace pressed her lips together and sat down, kicking off her flats and settling to watch the boys finish setting up. She knew the questions would have to wait. Today was about fun and sunshine in all their forms.

  “You gonna come into the water at all today?”

  Max stood at the foot of Grace’s lounger with a bottle of Pepsi in his hand, admiring her long legs and despairing over the fact that, in three hours, she’d still not taken his fucking shirt off or joined them on the float. On top of that, the fact that she’d chosen to wear a piece of his clothing had caused his stomach to twist and his groin to twitch. Yeah, that was hot. The other guys had commented on how hot it was, too. Except Deputy AssFlap, who’d rolled his eyes in blatant jealousy. Well, he could just suck a dick. Or let that brunette do it and get it all out of his system.

  Max flicked the cold moisture from his soda bottle onto Grace’s foot, making her jump and look up from her cell phone.

  She laughed. “Hey!” She wiped her foot. “I’m okay here,” she said softly. “I’m happy playing Angry Birds. Honestly. Go and have fun. I love the sun. I’m good.” She shrugged and scrunched up her nose.

  Yeah, she’d started to catch the sun, too. Her dark skin had already begun to change color. Highlights at her hairline shone bright caramel and gold. She also looked a little buzzed, which was cute as hell. Max knew that his aunt Fern and Ruby had made sure she’d always had a fresh drink at her side.

  “But everyone’s out on the float now,” he pointed out. “You’re all on your own.”

  “Max, I’m okay. I promise.”

  He huffed. “Well, will you at least come here while I show you something?” he asked, kicking a foot at one of the lounger legs.

  She cocked a suspicious eyebrow. “Something?”

  He smirked. “Not that something.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Not now, at least.”

  She laughed and sat forward. “Okay. What do you want to show me?”

  “Come here.”

  Placing her cell on the lounger, she moved closer, standing carefully but unable to completely stop the slight sway in her gait. She giggled. “Those Jell-O shots are naughty.”

  “I hear ya,” Max replied with a chuckle. “Hey,” he said frowning. “What’s that?” He pointed to her feet.

  As she looked down, Max made his move. As though she weighed nothing, he grabbed her around the tops of her thighs and hiked her over his shoulder in a firefighter’s lift, grinning as cheers of encouragement erupted from the bastards on the float who’d dared him to do it. He hurried down toward the water, ignoring Grace’s squeals of protest, the tone of her voice thick with humor, and until he heard her panic, he wasn’t letting go.

  “Max! I swear to God! Let me down.” She smacked his ass. Hard.

  “Oh, you can do that again,” he retorted, wading into the water. She shrieked when it touched her toes. It would no doubt feel fucking bitter against her hot skin. “I’ve got you,” he hummed. “Don’t you worry.”

  “Oh my heavens, it’s freezing, Max! Stop!”

  Max chuckled. Even with liquor in her, she was still careful about cursing.

  “Stop?” he asked, and halted his steps immediately, the water lapping at his waist.

  “Thank you,” she gasped. “Now let me down.”

  He grinned toward the float. “Okay. I’ll let you down. Here’s a good spot.”

  With ease and a piercing scream from Grace as he did, Max lifted her and threw her into the water. The whole of her submerged. He bowed and waved at the float, where everyone was on his or her feet, laughing, whistling, and applauding.

  “You bastard!” Grace spluttered as she broke the surface and stood up, hair dripping, white T-shirt clinging deliciously to her body. She flailed her hands, as if the movement would help in her effort to get dry.

  Max moved toward her, grinning. “Oh, come on now. Don’t be mad.” He reached out. “My clothes never looked so fucking good.”

  She smirked. “Is that right?”

  His eyes danced down her body, paying particularly close attention to her hard nipples. “Shit yeah,” he breathed, thankful that the water was cold enough to keep his cock at bay.

  “Well,” she purred. “Come closer and tell me more.”

  Max should have listened to his gut. He should have listened to the sensible part of his brain and not the part of his brain that resided in his shorts, because as soon as he moved closer she was on him, dunking him headfirst into the lake, over and over again, winding her lithe body around his until he was begging for mercy. She was like a slippery eel. Max simply couldn’t get a hold on her, but Jesus, having her body so close, so near nakedness was fucking stupendous. Her thighs gripped him tightly while his cheek pressed into her tit.

  Awesome.

  She finally let go, pushing away with a laugh that was beautiful. “I have a brother, Maxie,” she taunted while swimming backward. “Don’t forget. I learned from the best. I dunk boys like you for breakfast.”

  And with that she took off toward the float, where Josh and Buck helped her climb aboard, leaving Max tongue-tied and bursting with pride.

  It was late afternoon when everyone left the float for the shade of the house. With the sun still hot as hell and drinks being thrown back like nobody’s business, a siesta was in serious order. With an arm behind his head and a foot on the ground to keep the hammock, tied between two trees, swinging gently, Max watched Grace approach with a soft, tipsy smile across her sun-kissed face. She was still wearing his godforsaken T-shirt, but that was okay. She’d been no
thing but an absolute pleasure to be around all day, opening up to him and everyone else, shaking off her natural timidity and quiet.

  He smiled when she stopped at his side. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” she answered. “You okay?”

  He nodded. “You?”

  She lifted her half-empty bottle of water. “Trying to dilute. I may be a little buzzed.”

  “I think you just might be.” He patted the hammock. “Wanna join me?”

  She frowned. “There’s room?”

  Max shifted, leaving a small space for her. “There is now.”

  Grace placed her water on the ground and, with zero elegance, sat down heavily on the hammock’s edge, pushing it sideways sharply and causing her to fall back onto Max.

  “Oh shit!” he exclaimed.

  A loud, dirty laugh burst from her as Max, with flailing arms and legs, attempted to steady the damn thing and keep them both on top of it. He managed, just, despite Grace not helping one bit.

  With them both lying back, Grace still wheezing with laughter, Max shook his head.

  “You’re nuts,” he commented with a wry smile.

  “I feel nuts,” she replied, placing a hand on her chest in an effort to calm herself. “I feel great.” She looked over at him, their noses mere inches apart. “I love it here. I’ve had such a good time.”

  “I’m glad.” Max’s gaze did a slow circuit of her face. “You’ve caught the sun.”

  “You, too.” She pressed her index finger to his nose. “You have freckles.”

  “I do not!”

  Grace giggled again. “Don’t worry, they’re adorable.”

  Max rubbed his hands down his face in an attempt to rid himself of said adorableness. “Whatever.”

  She grinned and looked back at the sky, her hand grazing his. “It’s been nice seeing you so happy.”

  He looked at her, surprised.

  She closed her eyes. “Your smile is far too nice not to show off.”

  Without thought, Max pushed his arm under her head and pulled her close. The scent of sun-heated skin, sun screen, and wine filled his senses. “You’re flirty when you drink, huh?”

  Seemingly unfazed by his holding her, she nodded. “Apparently.” She opened one eye. “Does that bother you?”

  Max shook his head. “It’s adorable.”

  She laughed and moved her hand so that it rested on his bare stomach. His muscles immediately clenched. He cleared his throat. “You kept my T-shirt on.”

  Grace hummed in reply. “You have a tattoo.”

  He sighed. “I do.”

  Grace’s eyes opened slowly, their prior haziness fading to something more sensitive. “Wanna talk about it?”

  Did he want to talk about it? Not really. But Max knew there would come a time when he would have to open up, to tell people about his past and what he’d been through. Who better to start with than Grace, with her innocent questions and open face. Besides, she’d shared such a dark and painful part of herself when she told him about Rick.

  “Christopher was my son,” he said quietly, the words scratching his throat like fractured pieces of his heart slipping up from his chest.

  Grace became very still. The only movement the gentle sway of the hammock. “Was.”

  Max turned his head, looking straight at her. “He died.”

  A small breath escaped Grace’s lips. She pulled her hand away from his stomach but he clasped her wrist quickly.

  “Don’t,” he urged. He placed it back, needing the contact while he told his story, the story of Christopher, the story of Lizzie, the story of why he’d taken the path he had and why he was the way he was.

  Grace stayed silent throughout, her fingers moving ever so slightly against his skin when he described losing Christopher and then Lizzie. The drugs, the drinking, the women, all of it spewed from him as they lay on his father’s hammock under the shade of the trees.

  It was minutes after he’d finished before Grace spoke. “I’m so very sorry, Max.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t be.”

  “How could she just leave you like that?” She lifted onto her elbow, looking down at him, and moved her hand to his heart, pressing carefully. “This has been hurt so much.”

  “S’why it doesn’t work anymore.” He licked his lips and his eyelids fluttered closed when her fingers whispered across his nipple.

  “Sure it does,” she retorted with a gentle shake of her head. “You just don’t realize it.” Her hand traveled down the center of his chest, pausing briefly at his belly button. “You’re very special, Max.”

  He gripped her waist gently, hoping to God that she’d move her hand farther down. Despite the gravity of the conversation they’d just had, his need for her touch was overwhelming.

  “Gracie.” Her stare remained glued to the waistband of his shorts and the undeniable shape of his cock, as it grew hard under her attention. “Touch me.”

  Gradually her hand shifted, over the material of his shorts, over his erection, drawing a hiss from his lips. Her touch was tentative, careful, causing Max to lift his hips to chase a firmer grip, a rougher stroke.

  “That’s it,” he encouraged, rubbing his palm down her back. “That’s it.”

  His words seemed to light her confidence, as she pressed against him harder, gripping him. Although the feel of her was amazing, Max’s body moved with ripples of frustration, wanting her to push his clothes away and jerk him hard. But he didn’t push. Instead, he pulled down the front of the T-shirt she wore as well as the edge of her swimsuit and sucked eagerly on her nipple, earning a deep moan from her throat. Her nipples were as dark as chocolate and, just as they had before, pebbled perfectly against his tongue. As he had hoped, Grace’s hand gripped him harder, rubbing stronger until his hips and hers were writhing, seeking out more friction, to make the hammock sway.

  “Let me touch you,” Max gasped into her neck, the salt on her sweet skin driving him beyond distraction. “Fuck, let me put my fingers in you.”

  “God.” Her head fell back at his words, leaving him to lick and suck up to her ear and down to her collarbone.

  Taking her reaction as permission, Max moved his hand to her thigh, noting how soft she felt, pulling it toward him, and opening her up. “I’ll be gentle,” he promised around a grunt as she continued working him, drawing an orgasm from deep in the depths of his stomach. His fingers skimmed the damp material between her legs, making her body jump.

  “I’ve got you. I’m gonna make it so fucking good, so—”

  “Max?” Josh’s shout came from by the water, from beyond the trees where no one could see them, but it brought them both to a screeching halt all the same. “You out here?”

  Max cursed and pulled his hands from between Grace’s legs, while she flustered and moved so quickly away from him that once again the hammock tilted dangerously, leaving them both flapping to keep on it.

  Josh emerged just as they had the damn thing under control. “Oh,” he said, embarrassment tinging his cheeks. “Sorry, dude, I didn’t realize—”

  “It’s okay,” Max said with a hand up, even though it was the biggest damn lie he’d told. His groin pulsed with the remnants of his hard-on, which he prayed Josh didn’t notice, while his heart thumped like a hammer in his chest. “What’s up?”

  Josh threw his thumb over his shoulder. “So we’re all gonna go into town, have a few more drinks, maybe hit a club. Everyone’s getting ready now. We’re leaving in about thirty. You in?”

  Almost.

  Max glanced at Grace, taking in her flushed cheeks and aroused eyes. “You up for it?”

  “Sure,” she said a little too quickly, in a voice that was husky and filled with desire. “Sounds good.”

  “We’ll be there,” Max said with a salute toward Josh, who turned quickly and jogged back the way he came.

  Max rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Well, that’ll give Ruby something to talk about for the next million years.”

  Grace
groaned and dropped her head to his shoulder. “She’ll never let me live this down.”

  Max patted her hair before gently moving away. She was altogether too fucking tempting with her heat, scent, and willingness, and they’d never be ready in time if they started again. He stood carefully from the hammock and stretched his arms above his head.

  When he turned back, Grace’s eyes were all over him and all about the sex.

  “Jesus,” he muttered into his palm with a smile. “Stop it, or we’ll never leave.”

  “What?” she asked with an innocent blink.

  “You know what.” He laughed, offering her his hand, which she took without pause. “Come on, let’s get ready. I need a cold shower.”

  The shower Max took was frigid. Still, he seriously deliberated about whacking one out. Knowing Grace was in the next room all sweet and oblivious to her sexiness, however, made him equal parts exhilarated and uneasy about the prospect. After much debate, he decided against it and tried his best to think unsexy thoughts—rehab, Tate, therapy—which worked wonderfully until, after dressing, he walked back into the room to find Grace leaning over her suitcase in nothing but her underwear.

  Sweet Jesus.

  Her ass looked freaking spectacular, cupped by red lace that accentuated the caramel tone of her skin. He slumped against the doorjamb, stunned by the lascivious images that were suddenly flashing through his brain.

  Apparently, he made a noise of appreciation, because Grace abruptly spun around with a sound of surprise, using her arms and hands to try to hide the red lace bra and panty set she wore. But that shit was futile. Max had seen all he needed to bring his body roaring back to ready, set, let’s fuck.

  He tried to be a gentleman, truly he did, but his eyes betrayed him on every level, skating across her thighs, her waist, before seeking out that luscious mystery between her legs. He cleared his throat, mumbled an apology, and wandered across the bedroom, finding a spot that was as far away from her as possible. When he turned back, she was clutching a towel to her body, looking as aroused as he was feeling.