Page 60 of The Healer

“I can smell emotions too.” Dipping his head, his gaze snagged hers as his lips descended. When they brushed across hers, she gasped. “Anger, fear, arousal.”

Her cheeks burned, and despite wishing she could kiss him, she didn’t like how he toyed with her.

“Arousal doesn’t mean sex.” She slipped off his lap and drew the throw around her as she gathered her dignity. A rather large bulge in his jeans snagged her attention. A fever claimed her, and she forced herself to shuffle back, ignoring the throbbing between her legs.

“No, it means attraction.” He didn’t hide how aroused he was, and the slow perusal he gave her with his intense blue eyes tested her resolve.

“Find a woman not scarred, not an emotional wrec—” She bit the inside of her cheek, spun on her heel, then stomped off.

Climbing into bed, she yanked the blankets over her head. Like a child, she cast her thoughts back to before the crash, as if the universe hadn’t messed with her life. No accident happened, she hadn’t lost her parents, she wasn’t scarred, and she didn’t have the sexiest man she had ever met horny as hell in her living room.

“You can’t hide from this, Lona.”

“Go away.” She rolled over, offering her back.

His footsteps neared, and the bed dipped, but before she could scold him, he slid under the covers and tugged her against his bare chest. Shit, he was so deliciously warm.

His voice rumbled as he said, “As an alpha accustomed to scars, bloodshed, death, yours doesn’t bother me. It speaks of a woman who has endured much. If your scar healed, would that change who you are?”

She shook her head, too nervous to speak with her ass nestled against something incredibly hard while her heart pounded at the truth in his voice.

“Dimi, it’s Rhys. Can you send one of your pal’tsy to Coedwig? I need him to lick someone.”

Frowning at the strange request, she twisted to watch Rhys on his mobile. He didn’t mean her, right? Like she would let someone lick her. Ew, what the hell was wrong with these people? Then her doctor’s mind took over. He had implied they could heal her scar, and just by licking if she took his meaning. She needed samples of their blood and saliva. Hell, not that she knew what to tackle first: cancer, injuries, blood disorders… The list was endless.

Rhys sprawled on the bed, with his bare chest exposed for her admiration. His gaze traveled to her breasts, then up along her neck to linger on her lips, sparking a tingling trail of sensory overload. He touched where his gaze had, feathering his fingertips over her lips, skimming along her neck to stroke his palm across a nipple.

Fire burst outward, and her breast swelled. She bit her inner cheek and shifted, trying to untangle her legs and slip off the bed. Now he was taking liberties when he had no right. Sure, her body screamed permission, but she hadn’t given it. Not yet, anyway.

“Thanks.” He hung up, placed his phone on the nightstand, then sat up in a fluid motion, his mouth meeting hers.

She hadn’t expected a kiss. His lips were dry, soft, hot, but the moment he slipped in his velvet-like tongue, she melted. The demanding way he conquered her mouth scattered her thoughts. With a sweep of his tongue, he claimed her. She had longed for this and needed to sample his lips. Groaning, she nestled against his chest as his musky flavor burst to life across her tastebuds. Permission granted.

“Kissing you is better than I imagined.” He feathered kisses along her jawline then swooped in to claim her lips again.

Fuck me, James. The taste of him, the way he left no part of her untouched, sent waves of lust pulsing through her. She clung to him, kneading his chest beneath her fingers as he dominated the kiss.

Before she could think to join in, he flipped her, tucked her snugly against the front of him, and nipped her exposed shoulder. “Sleep, heal, and in the morning, we’ll discuss what this is between us.”

Sleep? She wanted to snort, but her mind reeled. He had kissed her. Was he serious about dating her? No, not after days, but she wanted him to be serious, and therein lay her dilemma.

With his hand gripping her hip, his chest warming her back, and his lips pressed to her neck, sleep claimed her, dragging her down to its sweet depths.

Chapter Twenty-One

BLOOD DOESN’T LIE

Ilonaawokewithhernose smashed against a pectoral muscle an inch or two away from a nipple. The woodsy scent of Rhys’s velvet skin filled her senses as the warmth of him beckoned her to snuggle deeper into his embrace. She had never slept in a man’s arms before, and the sense of security it summoned had to be an illusion.

He stirred and rubbed his hand up her back, taking her shirt with it. Groaning when he encountered bare skin, he shifted, tightening his arm around her.

“Morning.” His sleep-drenched voice hardened her nipples. It promised sensual delights the world had never seen. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” She drew in a deep breath through her nose, proving her sinuses were clear even as his scent filled her lungs. A cold could last weeks. Dane’s blood flowing through her veins had to have played a role in healing her this swiftly.

Rhys flipped her onto her back, pinned her to the bed, and entangled his limbs with hers. “Lunar, I love waking with you in my arms.”

Claiming her lips, he sliced his hot mouth across hers. He plunged in, unapologetic, as he conquered her. She fought him with her tongue, which only deepened the kiss. He tore away with a guttural groan.

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