Page 44 of Fastlander Fighter

She’d never talked about them before, and this entire conversation had been a roller coaster. She didn’t know if she liked that he kept her on her toes and flowing from one conversation to the next.

“Maybe a little insecurity. I bet your body is perfect.”

He huffed a single, “Ha.” And then he stood and peeled his white T-shirt over his head, and she stifled a gasp.

His entire torso was laden with solid muscles, but adorned with a myriad of scars. She probably looked horrified right now, so she composed her face and stood up, then closed the few feet between them to trace a trio of what looked like claw marks down his ribs.

“I guarantee your warrior stripes are more noble than mine,” he said softly.

“What are they from?”

“From being a shifter,” he said simply.

Her breath quickened as she considered what she was about to do. “This isn’t scandalous, because it’s not a regular bra. It’s a lacy bralette, and some of the young people nowadays even wear them as tops.”

He chuckled and said, “The young people? How old do you think we are?”

She blew out three quick breaths to pump herself up, grasped the hem of her tank top, and told him, “Be kind,” before she peeled her tank top over her head.

She had her eyes squeezed tightly closed as she let the fabric of her tank top drop from her fingertips to the floor. He didn’t say anything. That was bad. Right?

Sloane eased one eye open to make sure he hadn’t run out the door and disappeared forever.

Captain stood there, dragging his too-bright silver gaze down her bralette to her stomach, legs, and back up. His hungry smile said he wasn’t running anywhere.

“Be kind?” he asked. “Be kind?” he repeated louder. “Woman, you have lost your damn mind. You are an eleven.”

“Out of fifty?” she asked in a high-pitched voice.

“Oh my God!” he exclaimed, dropping down to his knees. “You’re ridiculous.” He gripped her waist and studied the stretch marks on her stomach. It looked like a T. rex had taken his little claws and raked them down both sides. The scars were silver with age, but obvious. Captain brushed his thumb down one of them. “I don’t know what this says about me, but I think these are so fucking hot.”

“My stretch marks?” she asked in disbelief.

“You got them carrying a cub. You got him here safe. Hell yeah they’re hot.” And then he shocked her completely by rubbing his face across the sensitive skin of her stomach, first one way and then the other, like he was a cat marking his territory.

His rough beard felt good against her skin, and after the third pass, she ran her fingers through his hair, gripped it in the back, and angled his head up to look at her. “Healer,” she accused him.

A slow, sexy smile stretched across his lips. “Maybe that’s you, not me.”

“We are making bad decisions,” she pointed out.

He slid his strong hands up the backs of her legs and into the cut-off hem of her jean shorts, and grabbed her ass hard. “Oh, the worst decisions.”

Sloane clawed her nails gently up the muscular curves of his shoulders and murmured, “We are not being good friends.”

Captain gently clamped his teeth onto her stomach, then released her with a kiss there. “We make terrible friends,” he agreed.

“We are probably going to have lots of regrets if we don’t stop now,” she pointed out.

“Maybe,” he rumbled from where he sat on the floor. He spun her around and eased her down onto his lap, facing away from him. Against her ear, he murmured, “Or maybe you’ll think about this memory and smile for the rest of your life.”

Sloane rolled her eyes closed and leaned back against him, drew her knees up as he cupped her sex with his big, powerful hand.

“Maybe every time you need a good fuck now, you’ll call me to take care of you,” Captain rumbled against her ear.

Sloane slid her hands up behind his neck and arched her back as he pressed his fingertips in just the right spot over her jean shorts.

Ooooh, he was good.

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