Page 42 of Rami

“I’m clean,” she blurted. She wet her lips, her eyes downcast. “I got my lab results back yesterday.” Her voice was hollow, as if the wind had left her sails.

Tension left his shoulders. God, she must have been struggling. Constantly carrying that fear. The worry in the back of his mind dissipated and Christ, was he ever grateful. He tipped her face up an inch so she couldn’t avoid his gaze. “I’m happy for you. Glad you don’t have to worry about that.”

Her eyes shimmered. With relief, maybe? “It doesn’t mean—” she wet her lips. “I just wanted you to know...” her voice trailed off with uncertainty and he hated that the conversation had stolen some of her confidence.

He moved her hand down to the front of his jeans, where his cock strained against the denim. Harder than he’d ever fucking been. “Does it feel like I’m not attracted to you? I swear to god, the only reason I’m holding back is because I don’t want you to hate me if I come unhinged.”

She snorted out a laugh. “Unhinged? Sounds a little dark.” Pink tinted her cheeks. She stroked the outline of his shaft.

“I’d never hurt you,” he clarified. “But you drive me wild, Ivy. I wouldn’t be able to hold back.”

“So don’t.” She nuzzled her cheek into his palm. “You make me forget, Rami. Every time I look at you, every time you touch me, I’m taken away from that camper.” Her gaze lowered to his chest. “No matter how much I fight the memories during the day, they come at night. Taking me back there.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead. He’d do anything to take that pain away from her. Anything to make her forget. And goddammit, he’d make love to her if it gave her a moment of peace.

Slowly, he moved his lips to her cheek, then her lips. Her fingers came to toy with the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. Her mouth moved against his, claiming his lips, begging him for more. He unlocked her hips from his grip and slipped his palm into the neckline of her dress.

Catching her breast in his hold, he pushed her bra aside and ran his fingertips over her nipple.

“Ah,” she cried against his mouth. Her back bent.

Lust coursed through his veins.

He hiked her up onto the window ledge and moved between her thighs. She pushed up the hem of his shirt and he tore off the material then brought his mouth back down to hers.

Need pulsed through him. Every male instinct made him want to pound into her delicious heat, but he fought the urge to move too fast. He pulled away, breathless as he stared down at her. “Hold on a sec,” he breathed.

Her dark hair was rumpled, her eyes sensual, her lips swollen from his attention.

She blinked, a little dazed. “You want to stop?”

“Hell no,” he ground out. He brought his palm to the side of her neck and held her chin with his thumb. “But there’s something I need to know before we—”

“What?”

He pressed his tongue to the backs of his teeth. Jesus, the last thing he wanted to do was upset her. To make her relive any trauma she might have endured, but he couldn’t go any further until he knew the full extent of her torture.

Her bottomless eyes searched his, wary and uneasy. Damn, he hated that he’d thrown a wrench into the moment. Hated that he’d taken the light from her eyes. If she gave him the go-ahead, he’d make it up to her tenfold. “I need to know if they”—he cleared his throat—“if they touched you. Sexually.”

The question had been burning a hole through his mind ever since he pulled her from the camper.

Her eyes rounded a fraction. “No,” she said softly. “They didn’t.” Besides the fact that the doctor had informed her there’d been no sign of forced intercourse, she knew her body. Every time she’d woken up from the damn drug-induced comas, she’d done a self-evaluation. Each time she’d expected to feel soreness between her legs, or some other telltale sign, and by some gift from god, there hadn’t been.

Her gaze flicked to the wall behind him. “But they would have. Wayne would have. Marty was too jealous, thankfully.”

Relief spread through his chest. Thank god. He’d have driven back to Mexico and slaughtered every member of the cartel—or died trying.

“You don’t have to think about them again.” Cold determination hardened his words. “If I could reach into your head and pull those sonsofbitches from your memory, I’d gladly do it.”

She sucked a breath through her nose, clearly startled by his admission. Then she reached for his waist, pulling him closer to the warmth between her legs. “I don’t want you in my head, Rami. But I want you inside me.”

Ah, hell.

Seeing her want was one thing. Hearing it was a new level of torture. He brought his hand to the satiny skin of her exposed thigh and slid it ever so gently beneath her dress.

His knuckles brushed the lace of her panties and his cock throbbed.

She wet her lips and her eyes flickered as he moved aside the material that tempted him to rip it off her.

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