Page 34 of Don't Let Go

“Are scars,” he said with a shrug. “They are a symbol that we survive, that we overcome, and they are a history of the path we’ve walked.” Then as if to illustrate his point, he began to kiss his way down my throat to my shoulder. He mouthed each kiss gently, then traced some of the ruddy marks with his tongue while others he bit down around as though leaving his own.

Every single time his lips touched me, I forgot how to breathe. The ache inside of me unfurled.

“Nothing about you is ugly,” he repeated his earlier statement, his hand closing over my throat. There was no pressure, just heat. The gentle stroke of his thumb over my pulse point encouraged both the rapid beat of it and my shallow breathing even as he soothed. “Nothing. When I look at you—all I see is you.”

The words wrapped around me more effectively than any restraint. “You are a dangerous man.” The need for him just seemed to amplify with each syllable.

“You need dangerous men,” he whispered. “But I am never dangerous to you.”

With his hand there around my throat, he rose up and he continued to drink me in with his gaze. Heat scorched through all of me as he looked his fill. Unease vied with embarrassment, but each time I squirmed, he dipped his head to kiss me again.

There was something just so fucking drugging about his kisses. They sent strokes of lust to curl through my body. Everywhere he touched with his lips or his fingers sent more liquid desire to flood through me. Then he was dipping his fingers down to my pants, he hovered, his fingers tucked into the edge of my waistband.

“What do you need to say to make me stop?” The hum of command echoed beneath the silky tone of his voice.

“Stop,” I whispered.

“That’s my woman,” he said, then he let go of my throat and hooked both of his hands into my waistband. Still, he didn’t move until I nodded, then his grin stopped my heart before he swept them down and took my panties with them. My boots fell off—I’d forgotten I’d even had them on— and I had to let go of his hips.

Then I was there, sprawled on the bed—naked and bare to his view. His smile didn’t diminish for an instant as he ran his gaze over me.

“Fallon?” The presence of a growl underscoring my name had my thighs rubbing together and my nipples so hard I shuddered.

“Justus…”

“I think I’m going to lose my mind in a minute and do everything I can to make you lose yours.” The certainty in his voice belied the hesitation in his words. “Just remember… you want it to stop, you just say stop. I swear to God, I’ll listen to you.”

My heart fisted at the declaration. “I trust you.”

And I did.

I trusted him.

“I want you and I trust you…”

I knew what I needed to know where he was concerned. Then Justus closed his eyes.

“But…”

His eyes jerked open at the single syllable and his gaze clashed with mine. “But?” he prompted.

“But I’d really like it if you got naked now.”

Chapter

Eleven

PATCH

The quirk of his lips sent a bolt of amusement through the lust in his eyes. For a precarious moment, he seemed balanced on the knife’s edge between humor and desire. To my utter delight, he swooped down to kiss me and laughed against my lips.

Shivers radiated along my spine, sending goosebumps to ripple over my skin. Then my hands were on his chest and his shirt unbuttoned under my fumbling fingers. The thicker flannel was warm on my fingers, or maybe that was just him.

Then his shirt parted and I had my hands on his flesh and the heat of him scorched me. He licked, nipped, and sucked his way through the kiss as though determined to devour me. Still, when I pushed at the shirt it shoved off his shoulders and then I was able to study the acres of…

“Oh my god,” I whispered, pulling away from the kiss to push at him.

“What?” Concern appeared in his eyes instantly. Until he glanced to where my fingers traced the watercolor tattoo of a white tiger all over his left pec. You could barely see his nipple for the intensity of the image that captured the attention.

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