Chapter Twenty-One
Lauren
B raxton is up the stairs and inside the cabin in what could be considered super soldier speed. My breath quickens as I close the door. The room feels impossibly small now, as if the cabin itself is holding its breath.
There’s laughter in his eyes as he says, “I’d say I don’t want to rush you, but this has been a long time coming.”
I chuckle and drop my shirt to the floor. “So you don’t consider this too forward?”
He swallows visibly. “Not at all.”
Giving in to a bold sense of freedom, I whip my bra off as well. “This also seems unnecessary.”
His gaze dips to my breasts and he closes the distance between us, cupping one breast and lifting it to his eager mouth. My hands close on his shoulders while he takes his time adoring me.
There’s no rush to his hunger. He’s savoring every graze of his lips over my skin, every flick of his tongue, and I’m both turned on and humbled by his devotion. Do I deserve this kind of love?
He raises his head and looks deeply into my eyes. Only then do I realize I spoke that last thought aloud. “Don’t measure yourself by the loyalty of someone who was never good enough to deserve you in the first place. Don’t let me be what determines what you think of yourself either.”
Not wanting this moment to be about anyone but him, I reach for the hem of his shirt. He stops me gently. His voice is rough. “I’d rather keep it on.” His lips claim mine, his hands framing my face as though I might break if he isn’t careful. There’s something raw and heady in the way he kisses me. He steals my ability to think. I give in to the dizzying need to be closer to him. All of him.
My hands slide up his chest, and he groans softly against my lips. It’s a sound that sends a thrill down my spine. I want to rip the barrier of clothing from between us.
He must sense it because he pulls back slightly, his breathing uneven, his forehead pressed against mine. “Lauren,” he murmurs, his voice thick.
I feel like an ass. He has respected every boundary I’ve put between us—for decades. He’s never pushed me to do more than I was comfortable with. “You don’t have to take it off,” I whisper.
His eyes meet mine, dark and searching. “You matter so much to me. I just... I don’t want to see disappointment in your eyes. ”
Now that—that breaks my heart. I want to find every woman he was with before me and throat-punch them. How could they have looked at his scars as anything less than badges of honor?
I take his hands, threading my fingers through his, and lead him through the cabin to the edge of the bed. “You can wear that shirt every damn day of our lives together and I won’t care. I didn’t fall for you because you have a beautiful face, although that square jaw of yours is quite impressive.” He shakes his head, obviously uncomfortable with the conversation, but I continue. I give his hands a squeeze. “Did you just miss the part where I said I fell for you?”
His eyes round and a slow smile returns to his face. “I did. Sorry. And you haven’t even seen my testicles yet.”
I laugh.
He chuckles.
And suddenly we’re okay again.
“Do you know that I have one toe that is larger than the other?” I step out of my shoes then my socks and wiggle the toes. “See?”
He looks both amused and confused. “I don’t care about the length of your toes.”
I undo my pants, pulling them and my underwear down. Naked before him, I say, “Check out those stretch marks. These were gifts from Ashley and Ryan. I used to be embarrassed about them, but my children mean everything to me—and these tell the story of how they came into my life. ”
He traces his fingers lightly over them. “You’re so beautiful.”
I lay a hand on the side of his face. “Not everyone would agree with you, but they don’t matter. Just like the women before me don’t. What did you say a minute ago? That I shouldn’t measure myself by the actions of someone who was never good enough to deserve me in the first place? I’m tossing that advice right back at you.”
Never taking his eyes from mine, he pulls his shirt off, tossing it to the side.
Then waits.
I could pretend the damage to his upper body isn’t extensive, but it is. The scars and stretched skin tell a tale of multiple surgeries and a long, painful journey to recovery. He probably has little to no sensation on a large portion of his torso, and that’s likely a relief. There is no pain like that from a burn.
“May I?” I ask.
He nods.
I trace the raised lines and uneven patches of skin. So many skin grafts. Each jagged section is a testament to what he’s survived. How did I never know that he was so much more than his perfect features? “Braxton,” I whisper, reaching out to trace one of the deeper scars near his collarbone. “I love you.”
He shudders beneath my touch and his breath catches. “Only say it if you mean it. ”
“I mean it,” I say, pressing my palm flat against his chest. “You really are a hero through and through. I’m only sad that it took me so long to realize that.” I silently will him to believe me. “But I’m here now and so grateful that you didn’t give up on me.”
For a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Then, with a sound that’s half a laugh and half a groan, he pulls me into his arms, burying his face in my neck.
“I should have told you how I felt long ago,” he murmurs against my skin.
I hold him tighter, my hands splaying across his back. “I wasn’t ready. I’m ready now.”
I tilt my head, catching his lips with mine again, and this time, there’s no hesitation. His hands move to my waist, lifting me as if I weigh nothing. We kiss deeply as he walks to the side of the bed.
He lowers me onto the bed and sheds the rest of his clothing before joining me. His lips trail down my neck, my collarbone, leaving a path of heat in their wake. Desire flames hot and all restraint leaves us. Our hands and lips are everywhere, tasting, teasing, discovering how to please. I can’t get enough of him. He can’t get enough of me.
I arch beneath him, my skin on fire for him, my breath coming in shallow gasps as his mouth kisses its way lower. My stomach quivers beneath the tease of his tongue. He moves to position himself between my legs and I gasp as his tongue begins to flick back and forth over my clit. It’s so good. He’s so good.
His strong hands lift my ass off the bed and hold me before him so he can feast on me and he does. I dig my hands into his hair and beg him not to stop as I soar toward climax.
“Braxton,” I cry out as I come.
He lightly nips my inner thigh then kisses his way back up my stomach to love on my breasts again. Oh, God, I’ve been missing out.
Every part of him is muscled and hardened. I dig my fingers into his back and arch against his mouth.
“We’ve got all night, baby,” he growls.
“Baby?” I repeated breathlessly. “Surprisingly, I don’t hate that.”
He parts my legs farther and teases the outer folds of my sex with the tip of his cock. “Look at you... so agreeable after an orgasm. I’ll have to remember that.”
I wrap my legs around his waist and jut upward, craving a deeper connection to him. “Imagine how agreeable I’ll be after a few more.”
He chuckles against my lips and plunges into me powerfully. “Challenge accepted.” He moves slowly at first, pulling out and thrusting in almost gently, but as the tension builds between us, the rhythm shifts, becoming something more urgent, and I love it.
I lose myself in the frenzy of our mating. He whispers my name like it’s sacred. I cry out his in abandon. Just when I think I can’t take anymore, he pulls out and kisses his way down to my sex again. I’m wild beneath him and out of my mind by the time he rolls over onto his back and lowers me onto his cock.
This time I’m in control and I greedily ride him hard and fast. No mercy asked for, no mercy given. I don’t stop until we collapse into each other, our breathing ragged and our skin damp. He pulls me into his arms, tucking me against the scars on his chest. Never have I imagined a more perfect moment.
“Well, that was worth the wait,” he jokes softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
“You can say that again,” I murmur, my eyes already heavy.
“I will,” he says, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Because I plan on having you a few more times tonight.”
I smile, my fingers tracing lazy circles over his chest. “Promises, promises.”
We nap, but each time we wake, we fuck again and it’s even better than the last time. That man sure can keep a promise.
In the darkness of early morning, while we’re lying tangled beneath the sheets, I trace the scars on his chest again, my fingers slow and reverent. He watches me so lovingly and openly.
“Braxton?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Lauren,” he says. Then he smirks. “Why aren’t you too tired to talk? ”
I roll my eyes, but before I can respond, he pulls me closer, wrapping me in his arms. I ask, “This is real, right? I don’t want to wake up and discover I dreamed this.”
“Me neither, baby,” he murmurs against my hair. “Me neither.”
I close my eyes, letting his warmth and the scent of sunflowers lull me. “Baby.” I yawn. “I still don’t hate it. You’re right about the power of orgasms.”
I fall asleep to the rumble of laughter in that beautiful, perfectly imperfect chest of his.