Page 41 of Proof Of Life

Between the tinnitus and the sound of my chewing amplified inside my head, it’s a wonder I could hear at all. I wash down the ham and cheese with a bottle of water, noting and taking pleasure in the fact that Brandt’s gaze is on my throat as I swallow.

Does he think that’s sexy or some shit?

But before I can run my mouth, he raises his arms above his head and stretches as he yawns, and then his face pulls tight in pain.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just the parts where my skin and tissue are missing, the skin pulls too tight when I move the wrong way or bend over too far. It’s no big deal.” My face isn’t convincing him, so he adds, “I guess I’m like a New Jersey highway, full of potholes.”

Setting down my water bottle, I move between his parted legs, and his face registers surprise. My fingers follow the same trail they mapped out in bed earlier as I touch a scar above his left pec. “Here?” Brandt nods, his eyes on my every movement. “Here?” I ask as I touch a spot over his ribs. Again, he nods. “What about here?” My fingers brush over a scar on his hip, just above the waistband of his briefs. He’s fresh from bed, and it’s the only thing he’s wearing.

“Yeah,” he breathes, sounding like he’s lost his voice.

In a move that surprises both of us, I drop my lips to the first scar above his heart and press a soft kiss. His sharp intake of breath spurs me on to the next scar. This time, I let my lips linger over his ribs, like a wet caress. Brandt palms the back of my head, holding me to him, and I swallow, wondering if I have the courage to kiss the next one.

It’s not about seducing him. It’s about healing him from the outside in, like he’s done for me. I want to show him his scars are beautiful, his battle is honorable, and that I don’t care what he looks like; he’ll always be perfect in my eyes.

Daring myself to continue, my lips sweep over his stomach in an arc as I seek out the scar on his hip. A soft kiss followed by a light sucking kiss, and then I nip it lightly with my teeth and Brandt hisses like I burned him. How far am I going to take this? We both know he has more scars below the waist. Am I going to kiss every one of them? A part of me wants to, but a larger part of me is scared shitless.

This would be a lot easier if it looked like an accident or a favor instead of something I desperately want.

Was Brandt this nervous when he touched me for the first time?

“I’ve gotta grab something. Meet me back in bed.”

He stares for a moment, trying to get a read on me before hopping off the counter and disappearing down the hall. From the linen closet, I grab a bottle of scented lotion some chick left here almost two years ago and join him. He’s down on his knees before me before I even have time to process it, unhooking my prosthetic and sliding the sleeve from my thigh. With my legs split wide, his face is right there, just inches from my crotch, and the more I think of it, the harder and thicker it grows. He presses a kiss to the inside of my thigh, and then another, and another, until his lips are right there, teasing the crease between my leg and my groin.

When Brandt stares up at me with those dark blue eyes, my lips part and my breath comes short and fast. It would be so easy to allow him to continue, but I want to make this about him. I want a chance to reciprocate to whatever extent I’m capable of before I chicken out.

“Lay down for me,” I rasp.

Slowly, he rises and crawls over me to his pillow. My heart races faster when I straddle his hips and fill my palm with scented lotion.

“Candy cane?” he asks with a smirk. “Can’t imagine where that came from.”

He knows damn well it’s not mine. I rub it between my palms to warm it before placing them on his chest. As I work the lotion into his skin, he shifts subtly, pressing his cock against my ass. It’s not overtly obvious, but I can tell he’s doing it and I can feel that he’s hard. Pretending like I don’t notice, I swallow and push back, just barely, but with his eyes burning holes through me, I know he’s looking for any sign that I want to take this further.

The muscles in his abs ripple beneath my hands, and with the wet sheen from the lotion, they look… Fuck they look good. He presses harder against me, rolling his hips, and with his gaze still locked on my face, I just can’t do it. Despite the darkness, I feel like there’s a spotlight shining on me, highlighting all the dubious thoughts running through my head. It's too much pressure.

“Turn over.”

I can see he’s reluctant, but he obeys and rolls onto his stomach. How did I think this was easier? Now I’m being tempted by the perfect bubble of his tight ass. The swell of it rises from the top of his waistband, the dark valley between his cheeks peeking above the fabric, taunting me. As I knead his shoulders, he continues to rock his hips, probably searching for some friction from the mattress, and all I can think of is sliding my dick through his cheeks.

I did that once with a girl when I was giving her a massage that turned into more. Now I can’t get it out of my head. How good it would feel to slide through his crease, feeling his cheeks squeeze my cock. Watching the head of my cock rub over his tight hole. The sight of it would probably make me cum all over his back. The tiny moans of satisfaction he makes are not helping control my dick. It seems to have a mind of its own as it demands my hips push forward, pressing into his cotton-covered crease.

The fucking slut arches his back, making his ass rise up in front of me, like an oasis, like an offering. Is he offering? This is uncharted territory I have no plan of action for. I have no training for this. What the fuck am I supposed to do? My head spins with the what-ifs and I lose focus.

Brandt rolls beneath me, lightning quick, and grabs my shoulders. “Hey, look at me. It’s okay,” he says, moving his hands to my face. “Come here.” And because I can’t bear the tension any longer, I bury my face in his chest, and his arms come around my back and squeeze.

“What’s going on between us?” My words are muffled against his skin, and I’m locked in his embrace, where I feel safe.

He breathes out and the warm rush of air teases my hair.

“I don’t know anymore.”

“But something. You feel it, right?”

“Yeah, I feel it. I just don’t know what to do about it.” He squeezes me tighter.

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