Chapter 22
CILLA
“Not in this life.” I pushed at his shirt, wanting skin.
I was burning up with the need for more. To push away the fear and find something healing.
Don’t get ahead of yourself.
I strangled the logical voice in the back of my mind.
This boat wasn’t reality. It was a space out of time.
The healing water and sun had already done so much to heal the betrayal of Marcus and Lydia.
The sixty hour weeks I’d put in to climb the ladder at Hartman & Hayes had meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.
I’d sacrificed everything only to have my whole world pulled out from under me.
Then...Salem.
And now, Safety Locke.
I’d run the gauntlet in a few short weeks, but it also made me realize how safe I’d been playing it in my own life. And with all that safety, I’d still been hurt—body and spirit—and I’d survived.
And maybe I was ready to thrive too.
He helped me pull the black T-shirt over his head.
His skin was tan and scarred, soft and rugged at the same time.
The difference of his face from just this morning was still jarring, but hidden under all that overgrown hair and beard were delicious angles and a man so attractive it made my breath back up in my lungs.
It didn’t stop there.
He wanted me.
The misty morning forest of his eyes held secrets and pain that rivaled my own. But all of that was banked under desire so complete that it could have singed my skin or worse—my heart. But I was so tired of being afraid.
I lightly trailed my fingertips along his temple to his cheek, my thumb swiping over his kiss-ravaged lower lip. He nipped at the pad of my finger and grinned as I grazed my teeth over his jaw to his ear. “Take me downstairs.”
He stiffened. “Cil—”
I pressed my fingers over his mouth. “It’s not fair to ask you for more when you already have given me so much, but I want this. You gave me a second chance at life, Safety Locke.”
He shut his eyes, pain rippling over his features. “Pretty sure it’s the other way around.” His fingers dug into my hip. “You deserve gentle. I’m not sure I have that in me.”
The fact that he couldn’t see that he’d been gentle with me every damn day made the last fringes of fear fall away from my shoulders. “I just want you, Locke.”
He stood, gripping my thighs as he hiked me up until my breasts were in his face. “You have no idea how many times I wanted to bury my face in those gorgeous tits of yours when I carried you up and down the stairs.”
I laughed as I propped myself on his shoulders so we could get down the narrow stairs that went to the bedroom.
My dress gapped and I shivered as he licked at the skin along my collar bone.
We got to the hallway, and he strode down the short space between the stairs to the large bedroom I’d been staying in.
The bristles of his beard dragged against the soft skin of my breasts then up to my neck and found my mouth again.
He maneuvered us through the door and laid me on the wide mattress. I hissed as my wound pulled, but I gripped his shoulders before he could pull away. “I’m fine.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Worry about me hurting you if you stop.”
He laughed against my mouth, then the kiss was wild and savage. His hands raced over me, pushing and pulling in all the right ways. My breasts ached and he kept skipping over where I wanted his fingers most.
His arm slipped under the small of my back as he lifted me to the top of the bed, but instead of covering me he dragged the hem of my skirt up my thighs. He brushed his nose along the sensitive skin of my left thigh.
I closed my eyes and tried not to think about the ugly scar. But he only kissed the skin just below it and down to the hollow of my knee. I sucked in a surprised breath at the humming warmth that flowed up to the apex of my thighs.
“Tell me if you need to stop.”
“I will.”
Then he moved to the right leg and dragged his teeth over the skin where thigh met with my abdomen.
He licked and nibbled, all the while his fingers lightly molded to my hip and up to the dip of my stomach to my ribs.
He was unhurried as he found the snaps and ties of the simple wrap dress as if opening me like a present.
He peeled the filmy material apart, and stared up at me as he tongued over the panel of my underwear. He drew in a deep lungful of breath and I draped my arm over my face.
“Don’t hide from me, Cilla.” He used his teeth to tug it away from my oversensitive skin, snapping it against me until I jerked with a moan. “I want to drown in your scent.”
I rolled my hips, wanting that as much as I was embarrassed by how wet I was.
“Lift for me.”
I swallowed and lifted my butt off the bed. He rolled my underwear down over my hips and tugged them wide over the wound that was like a third person in the room. We were both conscious of it, even if I wanted to ignore it completely.
But it was a reality.
This wasn’t going to be an easy fuck.
I wish I could open up and let him fill the ache that had been with me for longer than I could remember.
I was broken in so many ways, but I pushed away the nerves and concentrated on his mouth.
His breath against my skin, and the way he took care to stroke and squeeze, leaving nothing untouched.
The way he waited for me to catch up to each new inch he explored.
He teased and taunted me with words and his mouth as he carefully climbed my body, keeping his weight to the right side of me.
All the while, I was so wound up I wanted to scream.
But still he tempted and spread me out like I was his last meal that he was going to savor for the rest of the night.
I wasn’t sure I could handle that.
He propped himself up on his elbow and trailed little designs over my midriff. “Roll toward me.”
I licked my lips and sat up enough to help him get the dress and tank top off me, and when he snaked his arm around me to flick my bra open, I dragged in a shuddering breath.
His eyes darkened as he lowered his mouth to my breast, taking the tip into his mouth with a fierceness that left me reeling.
All the while, his fingers still traced over my middle and down to the tops of my thighs in and endless infinity loop of feather light touches. The sweet mixed with the unending heat of his mouth and teeth left me restless and insane.
I touched his cheek, my other hand tangled with his on the bed until our fingers were laced tight.
He stared up at me as he let one nipple free with a pop only to suck on the other with the same greedy intention.
Finally, he rolled me onto my back and hovered over me, his chest teasing my breasts as he used that wild mouth on me and the careening difference of his lazy touch had me so wound up I could barely think.
Then he inched his way to the bottom of the bed and opened me wide.
The angle of his head made his eyes seem almost glittering and feral as he watched me. He brushed his lips over my pussy, but didn’t taste. All I could feel was a whisper of breath and the bristles of his beard before he dipped the tip of his tongue inside of me.
Our tangled fingers were the only thing grounding me to the bed as he took and took.
Lapping every inch of me until I could see the glisten of my excitement on his lips and chin. I moaned, my eyes locked on him as he dug his beard into the sensitive skin between my thighs and covered me with his lips.
I broke so hard and fast that the world went instantly black.
I arched my back and his name drifted up the skylight into the star strung sky.
I lost all lung function as he wrecked me with his mouth and fingers. As he commanded more. He took greedy gulps of oxygen and held me down as he demanded everything.
The desire between us became something more than passion.
It became holy in a way that made me lose time and sense.
I tried to pull him on top of me, but he shushed me as the flames between us smothered into a misty bliss. He tugged me against him. “Sleep.”
“No, you. I need to...”
He buried his face in my neck. “Sleep Cilla. You’re worth the wait.”
It was the last thing I heard as I surrendered to the overwhelming emotions of the day.
And this man.
When I woke, he was gone.
Daylight poured from the skylight and my skin felt tight and salty from the heat of the day creeping into the bedroom hull. I rolled over and found a book and a note.
Charting a course to Maine.
Find me upstairs.
L
It was then that I realized the boat was moving. I was so used to the easy rocking of when we were anchored it was almost a lullaby. There was a definite pull of the wind working overtime on our speed.
I gingerly rolled out of bed and checked the porthole. The white capped wake of the boat and the limitless blue of the ocean and sky at odds with the breakneck speed had me stumbling a little.
That and my well-used body.
We hadn’t even had sex yet.
I pushed my hair out of my face and stumbled against the bed as we hit a wave. My thigh throbbed from both last night and the healing that felt like it was taking forever.
I grabbed my towel from the back of my door and tucked it around me as I grabbed onto the doorknob to stay upright. Evidently Locke wanted to make tracks.
My shower was a lesson in balance and creativity. I didn’t bother with washing my hair. With all the sea spray he was kicking up it was easier to just stuff it under a ballcap and worry about it later.
Knowing he was distracted with his charts and plans I lounged in bed as I dried off and read a few chapters of one of the new books he’d picked up for me. Even the fast-paced mystery couldn’t hold my attention for long.
Not with my stomach rumbling.
I slid into a flowy skirt with ridiculous peacock feathers all over it and a red bikini top. Feeling a little bold, I left the bottoms of the bikini in the pile. I braced myself on the walls of the hallway and stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
“Locke?”