Page 53 of Searching Blind

“Yes,” she said again without hesitation.

His mouth reclaimed hers with an intensity that took her breath away. It was raw and full of a burning desire that ignited her from within. His hands roamed over her body, tracing the outline of her figure. The heat of his touch sent a tremor through her, making her arch closer into him.

His fingers laced through her hair, tilting her head back to give him better access. He traced a line down her throat with his lips, causing her to gasp and close her eyes. The sensation was irresistible—every touch from him was lighting her up like a sparkler.

“Sawyer,” she breathed out, her voice shaky. Her fingers dug into his back as she clung to him, feeling completely and utterly consumed by the man.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he whispered against the shell of her ear. His hot breath caused a shiver to run down her spine.

“No,” she choked out. “God, don’t stop.”

A growl of approval rumbled from his chest. “Good. I want to touch every inch of you. Taste every inch. Feel all of you.” He shifted her, positioning himself so that his erection was impossible to ignore. There were too many fucking layers of clothes between them. She wanted to be skin-to-skin.

Still, she moved her hips experimentally and he groaned, his fingers clenching around her hips, guiding her. Their mouths met again in a heated clash of teeth and tongues. Hot, fast, desperate kisses. He tugged on her lower lip with his teeth before plunging his tongue back into her mouth.

His hands went to the hem of her shirt, fingers grazing the bare skin of her waist as they slipped underneath the material. The air between them crackled with anticipation as he slowly guided her shirt up and over her head, leaving her in her bra and hiking pants. He traced his fingers over her collarbones and down to the swell of her breasts, his touch light but sending a current of desire down her center.

She captured his mouth with hers again, desperate to feel him. She fumbled with the belt of his pants, then moved up to unbutton his shirt, revealing the strong muscles of his chest underneath. He had a tattoo on his pec of a compass rose, the intricate design drawn with such precision that she could almost feel the points of the compass.

She didn’t know why that surprised her.

She traced it gently with her fingers, memorizing the texture and pattern under her fingertips. “When did you get this?”

“I told you how after I lost my sight, I was fucked up. I was lost for a long time.” His voice was soft, a gentle rumble against her ear. “The compass was to remind myself that I can still find my way, even if I can’t see the path.” He groaned softly and dropped his lips to her bare shoulder. “Fuck, I wish I could see you right now.”

Her heart ached at his words—the regret, the longing, the subtle undercurrent of frustration.

She cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing over the stubble on his jawline. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His brief smile told her he recognized those words. They were the same ones he’d said to her in that cave when he appeared out of the darkness to rescue her.

She kissed him deeply, tangling her fingers in his hair like she couldn’t get close enough of him—and God, she couldn’t. As their tongues danced together, she continued her exploration of him, feeling the hard ridges of his abs under her fingertips and the trail of hair that led tantalizingly below the waistband of his pants.

She shifted away from him enough to pull down his zipper. His cock strained against his boxers, thick and long, desperate for her touch. She obliged him, stroking him through the fabric until he let out a strangled groan, and his hands clamped around her wrist so tightly it almost hurt.

Lightning fast, he shifted so she was now underneath him, her legs wrapped around his hips. He pumped once against her.

Still too much fabric.

“God, Lucy…” he muttered, resting his forehead against hers as he caught his breath. “I want you.”

She was wet with arousal, aching for him to fill her up and complete her in ways she didn’t even know she was missing. “Then take me.”

“You’re injured.”

“I’m okay.” To prove it, she lifted her hips, rubbing herself against his erection.

“Fuck, Luce,” he groaned, his voice hoarse with desire. She could hear the internal battle in his voice, the war between lust and his overactive protective streak. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She grinned up at him, her lips swollen from their intense kisses. “I promise I’m okay.” Her hands found his face again, tracing the rough patches of his five o’clock shadow and messy hair. She tangled her fingers into the strands, pulling him down for another deep kiss. He groaned into it, his mouth opening wider to allow her tongue deeper access, as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste of her. He spread her legs wider with his thighs, grinding against her entrance, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her entire body.

“Undress me,” she whispered against his lips.

Right then, Zelda tried to nuzzle between them.

Sawyer growled in annoyance and pushed her away. “No,” he said firmly. “Go lay down, Zelda. You’re not invited.”

Zelda whined softly but obediently padded away. She circled a couple times under a tree, then laid down in a huff with her back to them.

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