Free State of Grace by Delia Foster

room as her, slowly making his way towards her, his predatory eyes never leaving her gaze.
    In what seemed like forever and no time at all, he stood in front of her, a ghost of a smile lightly curving those perfect lips. He was standing so close; she knew he needed to shave again from the dark stubble that graced the strong lines of his jaw. She remembered him often complaining about having to shave twice a day. His scent, clean and masculine, assaulted her senses. Heat unfurled low in her belly, and she pushed her seat as far away from him as she could, which was really only a few inches because there was still a crowd surrounding the bar.
    He inched closer, settling his hand on the knee of one her crossed legs. She stifled a moan at the warmth of his touch, and stared down at the large hand casually draped over her knee.
    “Gracie,” he nodded, eyes warm and piercing.
    Memories of every single thing they’d done together flashed before her. Not misty colored, but in vivid Technicolor. The hand now on her knee, she could remember it against her throat while the other one explored between her thighs, and he drank from her mouth like he couldn’t get enough. The way he laughed when she tried to scramble away from him because she couldn’t take any more of his relentlessly revving her up. The look on his face, harsh and raw, when he came. 
    She swallowed nervously, but he just let out a husky chuckle and leaned in closer.
    Damn him. He must have known what he was doing. He had to know the effect he had on women … his effect on her. She needed a call to arms, hormones be damned.  She’d dealt with him for the better part of most of her life. There was no reason she couldn’t handle him now. 
    Steeling her resolve, she glared. “What are you doing here?”
    “Don’t break out the welcome wagon,” he winked. 
    Shameless flirt.
    She responded by shoving his hand off her knee. “Don’t touch me,” she whispered hotly.
    Unperturbed, he drew closer, settling his arm against the back of her stool.
    “Out for some drinks with the boys,” he said simply.
    She wrinkled her brow at him. “What?”
    “I said I was—,” he repeated slowly, as if she were five.
    “I heard what you said! You didn’t need to repeat it. What are you doing here? You’re never in this part of town.” She scowled at him.
    Damn, she was cute. Her nose scrunched up the tiniest bit, and when she scowled, instead of drawing her lips in, her lower lip actually pouted out, full and delectable. He remembered just how delectable and quickly moved his gaze away from her lips.
    “Woman, it’s a free country. I can go anywhere I damn want. Anyway, Barbara Walters, you never go out, what are you doing here?” He knew he was being nasty, but he was unable to help himself. The woman had him tied up in knots, and she was acting like he’d done something wrong – when she had walked out on him!
    “I can go anywhere I like. I don’t have to explain myself to you,” she muttered grumpily, and he stared.
    Her pretty, red lips were definitely pouting.
    On cue, his erection raged against the confines of his jeans.
    Well aware that her face was on fire, all she could do was pray that it was dark enough so he couldn’t tell how much he affected her. Engaging with him in battle wasn’t going to do her any favors. She decided to change tactics.
    “Well, I’d like to say it was nice seeing you, but I won’t waste time lying. My friend and I are about ready to head out. Hope you enjoy the rest of your night,” she said, pasting a false, bright smile on her face.
    She turned around in her stool to motion to Leah, who was conveniently facing her as she ground her ass into the cowboy, and Britney Spears screamed “Gimme more” out of the speakers. She looked up just at the right moment, making eye contact with Grace, who tried to motion her head towards the door.
    But Leah must have spotted Sean behind her and misinterpreted Grace’s distress