She heard him breathe deeply, in and out several times in succession and was elated to know she could affect him so profoundly. He was granted a few moments respite as she withdrew and he felt her weight lift off the bed. Thoughts of touching Grace as intimately as she had him ran through his mind and silently, he resumed reciting the Fibonacci sequence.

He heard paper crinkling followed by the sound of Grace deeply inhaling and exhaling.

"Mmmhmm," he heard her say. It occurred to him that she was kneeling on the bed next to him, he could feel the skin of her bare legs against his thighs and it set his heart rate aflutter again. He gasped, in surprise and in delight, when he felt her hands rubbing along the length of his spine and he caught the scent of cinnamon and peppermint and something else he couldn't identify.

"Mmmhmm," he repeated after her. "What is that?"

"That, my sweet man, is a massage bar I bought earlier today at Lush. This one's got jojoba and coconut oils and shea butter in it for moisturizing. And aduki beans for the massage benefit. And it's supposed to make you relax and get in the mood."

"It's working," his gasp assured her.

"I know," she laughed, as she continued her ministrations. He did have a knot in his left shoulder, she thought, just below the scapula and she paid special attention to massaging that spot. He groaned in protest but appreciated how much better the shoulder felt just minutes later.

Somehow, even though Spencer couldn't remember ever being this turned on, he managed to relax under Grace's hands—until she asked him to turn over again. His eyes widened and she recognised his nervousness.

"Here," she started to hand him the facecloth, then drew it back and said, "Oh wait, that won't be big enough," and handed him a larger towel instead. "Now, turn over. Please."

He felt a little sheepish, given what was obviously going to be happening at some point this night and as he started to roll over—towel in place covering his groin—he stopped mid-roll when he saw her and gasped.

Grace was standing next to the bed, apparently wearing only a slip, a lacy concoction that left little to the imagination. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind. Should he be looking at her? Was it rude to stare? Yes it was. Should he look away? Probably. Could he? Difficult. Maintain eye contact. Nope. Not happening. How did he manage to be so lucky as to find Grace in his life? At what point would it be appropriate for him to tell her that he loved her? Where the hell did that come from? Could his mind come up with any more stupid questions? Is this what Garcia meant when she said he was clueless about the obvious? He watched transfixed as she climbed onto the bed.

"Scoot over," she directed.

He lifted himself up enough to facilitate moving towards the centre of the bed, dropped back down onto it and as he did so, she sat next to him, at his waist level, facing him. Their thighs connected and his skin tingled instantly. So much for relaxing, he thought, he could feel his heart rate racing and his breathing quicken. As he concentrated on slowing his respiration rate he suddenly realised she was bathing the last unwashed part of him and any vestige of modesty and shyness deserted the room. He heard a guttural sound; a primal impassioned growl that echoed around the otherwise quiet room.

It was his own voice he heard.

Grace saw his momentary surprise and leaned forward brushing her lips against his jaw. Tossing the face cloth aside, she ran the fingertips of one hand along his chest, daring to pinch the nipples and smiled in satisfaction at the reaction she elicited. He growled again and groaned under her attentions. She slid her other hand up along the other side of his head and curled her fingers into his hair.

He turned his head to capture her mouth with his own and as they kissed, he brought his hands up to pull her down on top of him. He gasped into their kissing mouths as his hand made contact with the bare skin of her behind and he realised she'd removed her own underwear at some point. He caressed her soft skin for several minutes, loving the sound of her excited whimpers. And then, he tightened his hold on her back, anchored himself and swiftly turned them both over.

With Grace now on her back, Spencer gently nudged her legs apart and dropped himself down between them, positioning himself to bury his face in her neck. She squeaked when he chewed along her throat and she brought her hands up, entangling them in his long hair. His mouth trailed south and as his lips encountered her breast, her fingers clenched his hair and the squeak became a throaty moan.

An hour or so later, basking in the afterglow as they lay side by side happily cuddling in each other's arms, Grace finally broke the companionable silence.

"Are you date ready now, Spence? Want dinner?"

He laughed lightly and pulled her back onto him, her head resting on his bare chest.

"Want dinner?" He repeated her question and gave her his answer. "Want dinner. Want you. Want us," he told her. "I love you, Grace," he said in a whisper.

"I love you too, Spence. So much. So, so much," as she burrowed her face into his chest, deciding dinner could wait a little longer.

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"The best proof of love is trust." Dr. Joyce Brothers

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