Page 33 of Don't Let Go

“Hmm… For a while, I thought you belonged to your work. So deliberate in keeping me in my place. Yet, I could flirt with you and you never scolded me, even if you did politely slap me down.”

A laugh worked its way through me. “I didn’t know ‘slapping someone down’ could be considered ‘polite,’ but I didn’t mind when you flirted with me. It was funny, but we were also working. When you’re paying me to protect you and help… flirting is a distraction.”

He let out a long sigh and then leaned more into me. Some of the tension seemed to bleed out of him but the lightness of his lips grazed my jaw. He kissed a path to my ear where he whispered, “I have a secret to tell you… whether we were working or not, I was always thinking about you. Flirting with you is like breathing air. I need it.”

My hands found their way into his hair as he rested the weight of his erection against the apex of my thighs. Not for the first time, I really wished we were in fewer clothes. “NiccolòMachiavelli once said, “everyone sees what you seem to be, few know what you really are.”

Locke bit down on my earlobe and my thoughts scattered. “He also said, ‘those few do not dare take a stand against the general opinion.’” The scrape of his teeth before he traced the whorls of my ear with his tongue sent another heated pulse through me.

“He didn’t mean anything good by it,” I fisted his hair as he began to kiss a path down my throat. “Just… don’t worry about being something, just make sure you appear to be whatever it is…”

“Are you trying to warn me that you aren’t what you appear to be?” The question came out so light, it sent a shiver over my skin. Maybe it was the way he sucked the skin over my pulse against his teeth. My nipples were taut, sensitive, and I swore my cunt clenched around nothing and I shifted my hips. It ground me against him and his groan gratified me more than I could admit.

“I’m saying…” Oh it was getting much harder to string syllables together much less thoughts because his hands were under my shirt. I had no idea when he’d done that or when he’d unhooked the bra. Such clever, beautiful fingers. “I’m saying that… you know the me I had to become. I think the most honest I’ve been about being me was when I was helping you guys.”

That confession cost me everything. Wanting him? Wanting them? It was only going to complicate an already complicated situation.

“Well, your secret is safe with me,” he promised, then he pushed my shirt upwards and the air seemed all that much cooler against my heated flesh. He glided his palms up my sides and I shuddered. “You really need to tell me to stop…”

“Are you asking me? Or telling me?” When his fingertips skimmed beneath my bra to cover my breasts, I was suddenlyincredibly grateful to be wedged between him and the wall. I tightened my legs against his hips, holding onto him tightly. I didn’t want to fall.

He nipped my lower lip, then slapped a hand against a control on the wall. There was a whirring noise as the sofa and table disappeared and a bed lowered from the wall. I gaped at it, the whole motion was smooth, nearly silent, and damn near magical.

“That’s so…”

“Sexy?” He teased me with another nipping kiss to my jaw. “Amazing? Fantastic?”

“Hot,” I corrected, and I twisted against him to look at the controls. It ground me against his erection again and I had to bite back a groan. Yet, I really wanted to know how it worked. It was fascinating.

“Fallon,” Locke said, biting down gently over my pulse point. The sharpness jerked my attention back to him. Amusement glittered in his eyes and that well-defined, chiseled face of his with the high cheekbones and strong jawline was downright edible. I couldn’t get over how intense and expressive his eyes were and right now, I was torn between drowning in them and figuring out all the fascinating upgrades inside the truck.

“Hmm?” I raised my eyebrows as he chuckled softly. “Don’t take this personally, I still think you’re amazing but that’s…”

“Yeah, I’ll give you a full tour later,” he promised and then he tugged me away from the wall. His hands left my breasts, slipping around to balance me with his hands against my ass. Turning to the bed, he braced one knee against it and then locked his gaze on mine. “You can tell me to stop at any time,” he whispered. “One word and I’ll stop. I promise.”

“Justus…” His first name slipped out. “Can I call you Justus?”

“You can call me anything you want,” he murmured in a voice so soft it sent goosebumps prickling over my skin. “But I like the way Justus sounds on your lips.”

It was hardly the first time I felt self-conscious and I was way too old to be shy or coy about it, but at the same time… “You are really good for my ego.”

He huffed out a soft laugh that soon turned into chuckles. His humor pulled out my own laughter as we stared at each other. The amusement broke up the jagged pieces inside of me that kept grinding against each other. All the questions that haunted me about the missing time. All the shadows that crept out to torment me in my nightmares. They weren’t erased, not even a little. But the laughter… It proved a balm to my soul I had no idea how much I needed.

The laughter rippled out of me and as soon as I’d tried to get it under control, our gazes would collide again and he would grin or I would—then we were laughing all over again. Finally, he fused his mouth to mine, merging our humor with a hot, tongue thrusting kiss that made me arch with need.

We landed together on the bed, dueling for control of the kiss and drowning in it together. His hot hands were under my shirt again and when he pushed the fabric up, I had to pull back from the kiss to wiggle it off and then I was bare chested cause the bra had gone with it.

All at once the moisture in my mouth dried up. The lights were still on, it seemed almost too harsh for the moment. His gaze drifted over me and I had to fight the urge to cover up. There were scars and marks all over me. My arms. My breasts. My stomach. I hadn’t really thought about the fact they would be on display.

“I know they’re ugly,” I said, fighting for some equilibrium. “I didn’t—you don’t have to look at them.”

Lifting his gaze to lock onto mine, Locke dipped his head until our noses touched and his breath feathered against my lips. “Nothing about you is ugly.”

“Except—”

“Nothing,” he said even more firmly. “Look at me, Fallon. Look in my eyes… I know beauty and art. I know magnificent pieces from the Greeks to the Renaissance. I know beauty in all its many forms. You… you are so goddamn beautiful you make me ache. I want to hide you away where nothing can ever touch you again. I want to give you a reason to smile every single day even if it takes me a lifetime to discover all the ways I can.”

The unexpected poetry threatened to shred my heart. “But the scars…”

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