Page 87 of The Wrecked One

“This isn’t me removing my walls if I do that. It’s me giving you what you need because I promised I’d be there for you while you work on healing.”

I recognized what he was doing because I’d pushed him away so often before Thailand. Taking a chance, I practically confessed my love without the actual words.

“And if it takes me another fifty to sixty years to heal, will you spend the rest of your life being there for me?”

His brows snapped together. “You’re strong. You’ll pull through much quicker than you think. Likely when this op is over, which I’m thinking will be much sooner than any of us thought it’d be.”

He was trying to keep his voice level, void of emotion, but his eyes and the tight lines cutting across his forehead told a much different story. He didn’t want me for fifty to sixty years. He wanted me forever. For eternity.

Staring back at him, my walls officially down for the first time in my life, I realized I wanted that, too. I wanted him. Because I . . . loved him.

My skin tingled and chills dusted across every exposed inch of me. And when he secured a hand around my waist, drawing me against him, I nearly declared my feelings right there.

But it wasn’t the right time, not after what we’d learned earlier. We kept getting bucked off the bull, and yet, we didn’t give up on trying to ride. That was how I was starting to feel, at least.

Never give up. One thing my dad did teach me I’d choose to listen to.

“You sure you want this?” He dipped in closer, his lips near mine, both an invitation and a tease.

“Absolutely.” The word was more a breath of air, and he captured it with his lips, his mouth meeting mine.

His free hand worked up and down my silhouette before he found my heated skin, dragging his fingertips over my flesh and around to squeeze my ass cheek.

He swallowed my moan.

Tasted my surrender.

And chased away my chills with his touch, warming me up with the sweetest caresses.

When he found my center, his thumb gently met my clit, and a stuttery breath from him was met by one of my own.

“Are you sure?” he asked again, sounding choked up. And with his lips against mine, I could physically feel his anguish.

This was different from the tub. He was the one getting me off, not me grinding against him, and he had to be thinking back to that day in Thailand, to the man who nearly . . .

He was scared. But I’m not.

“Oliver, look at me.” I reached between us to hold his cheeks, demanding his eyes. He hesitantly gave them to me, not continuing to caress me, but not removing his hand, either. “I trust you. I want you. And I . . .” Love you. “I—I want you to touch me. I need this.” I think we both do.

He took another moment to stare at me, and I’d swear he’d heard my thoughts and telepathically sent them back to me. Then his lips parted as if he was experiencing ecstasy himself.

“You’re soaked.” He rested his forehead against mine as my hands fell limp at my sides, desire consuming me. He took his time to touch me, to feel me, to dive his fingers inside me. “God, I’ve missed you.”

Accidental admission or not, I’d take it. It felt like years ago, not this morning in the gym, that I’d forced him to confess that same line. But this time, it sounded like it’d come from his soul.

My thoughts were abandoned the second he slanted his mouth over mine again, claiming my tongue this time.

There was kissing, and then there was kissing Oliver. No real words, or my made-up ones, could do it justice when our tongues danced in perfect rhythm together like this.

Lifting my hands, feeling ravenous, I fisted his hair before my attention went to his biceps, then to his back. I wanted to skate my hands over every inch of his hard body and prolong our time together, but he was already so close to drawing out my orgasm.

The heel of his hand created friction as he worked his fingers in and out of me, and when he commanded, “Come for me,” his words rough against my lips, I fell apart.

I kissed his bearded jawline as I came down from heaven, nearly sliding to the floor, but he kept me upright.

“Time to sleep.” His words shocked my eyes open.

“No. I want to?—”

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