Chapter 28 #3
“That how it’s gonna be between us?” I smile into the line of her jaw before I kiss her chin, striding purposefully toward my bedroom.
“You ordering me around?” We make it inside before I kick the door closed with my heel and press her into the wall, let my hands slip under her sweatshirt and feel her warm skin, nudging the material up until I can nose the underside of one soft tit.
“No,” she breathes. “No, I think I’ll let you boss me around, actually.
” Fuck. My knees start to vibrate. “Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?
I knew you would.” She’s babbling now, nails scraping my scalp and that mouth dragging over my face, her hips moving restlessly, seeking friction, all while I pant into the cotton of her sweatshirt.
“I would, too. I’d like it so much, Si. I love how noisy you are.
Thought about it so many times, all the noises you made with your face between my legs.
I can’t wait to hear how you sound with your cock in my mouth. I love how you talk.”
I let out a weak laugh that morphs into a groan. “You’re about to talk me into coming in my pants.”
She licks the shell of my ear. “I’ll be gentle with you.”
“No, you won’t.”
“No, I won’t.”
She grins into another kiss, and I guide her down the wall, settle her on her feet, and walk us back toward my bed, sipping more kisses in between rucking up her sweatshirt until she pulls it off all the way.
The backs of my legs meet the mattress. I slip my hands into the band of her sweats and hum against her bare shoulder.
So soft. So full and smooth. I gently knead the little knots on her ass.
I’m going to kiss each one a thousand times.
Her palms slide up the front of my stomach beneath my shirt. “Tell me to take this off,” she whispers.
“You first,” I say, fingers still spanning over her hips beneath the material of her pants, stretching them until they fall past the curve of her ass, until she slowly shimmies out of them the rest of the way.
Until she’s nothing but bare skin and perfect swells and dips in front of me.
For me. Mine. All within my reach. I watch my trembling hand, my marred thumb circling a rosy nipple.
Jesus, I’m quivering all over like it’s the first damned time I’ve done this.
The rest of me is a nervous wreck, but I’m done being a coward.
The old me is in here still, formulating all sorts of ideas.
Like, what if I sat her down and fucked her pretty tits? What if I put her on her knees and told her to please, please take me in that mouth? I could keep my clothes on and just watch her get herself off. Let her watch me fuck my fist until I came.
I forget every filthy thing I want to promise her and instead say, “I sweat.” Christ, I’m out of practice.
Her grin climbs higher. “I’ll like it, don’t worry. I’ll like knowing you’re working hard for me.”
I’m so hard, it’s painful. My vision gets spotty. “No. Fuck. I mean—I don’t sweat where the skin grafts are, so the rest of me makes up for it now. I just . . . want to warn you.”
“My sentiment remains the same.”
“And the scars. The worst of them . . . I don’t want you to be shocked. I’m missing one nipple, and one nail on my pinkie toe. My left hip is where they’re the most severe.”
She effectively shuts me up when she grabs my hand and sucks my middle finger into her mouth. “You don’t have to warn me about anything, Silas. You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”
She flicks on the bedside lamp, and I immediately tense, then try to cover it just as quickly.
“I want you to see me seeing you,” she tells me. “Please?” I let my shoulders drop, and nod. Grinding my jaw, I swallow hard against the rush of anxiety. She slides the shirt off me first, then drops her body down my front, taking my pants with her as she goes.
I’m naked above her. She’s pushing me to sit.
And then she’s naked and kneeling between my legs, starting at my foot, slowly tracing the ridges of the scars there with her fingertips and lips.
The ache in my chest widens into something else.
Panic, pride, shame. But I keep my focus on Bea.
On her ruby-red hair sliding over me. The tight, dusky nipple that grazes my calf, her glowing skin.
She circles a section outside my knee, the flesh so carved out by a scar it looks like I’m missing something, like whatever made me forgot a spot.
I watch her thumb dip into it and have the faint thought that that’s it, that’s what was missing.
All I ever wanted. That little thumb makes me complete.
When our eyes meet again, hers are shining above her flushed cheeks.
“When I look at you, I don’t feel pity, Silas,” she says, one hand still on my knee and the other resting on my thigh.
She’s the one kneeling, but I’ve never seen anything more regal.
I’ve never worshipped something so much.
“I don’t wish that you were anything but exactly what you are.
When I see you, I see a hero. I see someone who would sacrifice himself to protect a stranger.
” My throat goes tight with longing. “I see proof of a man who would die for me. I don’t like that you had to feel any pain.
I hate that you had to feel any pain. But I wouldn’t change any bit of you. ”