Page 74 of Searching for Valor

Valor trotted after them, but Rylan gently closed the door, leaving the dog in the hall.

Valor whined pathetically and pawed at the door.

She buried her giggle against Rylan’s neck. “Aw, poor guy.”

“He’s not invited.” He laid her on the bed with surprising tenderness, his eyes roaming over her body with naked hunger. She reached for him, but he caught her wrists. His grip was firm but gentle as he stretched her arms above her head, his body a solid weight pressing her into the mattress. Izzy’s breath caught in her throat, desire pooling low in her belly at the dominant gesture.

“Not yet,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “If you touch me, I won’t be able to control myself.” He held her wrists loosely with his prosthetic hand while his left trailed down her body, fingers skimming over the swell of her breasts, the dip ofher waist, the flare of her hips. Even through the fabric of her shirt, his touch ignited sparks across her skin.

She arched into him, craving more contact, but he kept her pinned with maddening gentleness. His lips followed the path of his hand, pressing feather-light kisses down the column of her throat, along her collarbone, between her breasts. Then he returned to her mouth.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he murmured against her lips.

“So do something about it,” she challenged breathlessly.

A wicked grin curved his lips. He released her wrists and sat back on his heels, slowly dragging her shirt up and over her head. His eyes were molten gold in the dim light of the bedroom as they drank in the sight of her, clad only in a simple black bra and jeans. His gaze swept over her like a physical caress. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice both reverent and rough with want.

Izzy’s breath hitched at the raw desire in his eyes. She reached behind her to unhook her bra, letting it fall away. Rylan’s gaze dropped to her bare breasts, and he made a low, appreciative sound in the back of his throat, making her feel like her little barely B-cups were the sexiest things in the world.

He leaned down, trailing kisses along the column of her throat, down to the valley between her breasts. He took one taut nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive peak. Izzy gasped, her back arching off the bed. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as he lavished attention on first one breast, then the other.

“Rylan,” she breathed, almost dizzy with want. She could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing hard against her thigh. “I need you.”

He lifted his head, a surprising look of vulnerability in his eyes. “I really didn’t want to need you, too. But I do. So fucking much it hurts.“

Her heart clenched at his raw confession. She cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing over the rough stubble on his jaw. “Then stop fighting it,” she whispered. “Let me in, Rylan. All the way.”

He closed his eyes, turned his face into her palm, and pressed a kiss to its center. When he opened those gorgeous eyes again, the vulnerability was still there, but it was edged with a steely determination that made her shiver.

“Okay,” he said simply. Then he was kissing her again, deep and hungry, like he was trying to devour her whole. His hands were everywhere, stroking, kneading, igniting her body until she was writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

He fumbled with the button of her jeans, popping it open and dragging down the zipper. Together, they worked the denim down her legs until she was bare before him, wearing nothing but a scrap of black lace.

Rylan hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties and slowly, teasingly, pulled them down her legs. Then he was kissing his way back up, his lips and tongue blazing a trail of fire along the inside of her thigh.

Izzy’s hips bucked up involuntarily when he reached the apex of her thighs. “Please,” she whimpered, not even sure what she was begging for. She just knew she needed his mouth on her, needed to feel his touch consuming her.

As if reading her mind, Rylan settled between her legs, throwing one of her thighs over his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, his breath hot against her sensitive flesh. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. Then his mouth was on her.

Izzy cried out, her head falling back against the pillows as his tongue delved into her slick folds. He explored her with long,slow licks, savoring her like a man dying of thirst. When he closed his lips around her clit and sucked, stars exploded behind her eyes.

“Oh God,” she gasped, fisting her hands in the sheets. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He didn’t. His lips and tongue worked her mercilessly, stoking the fire building low in her belly higher and higher. He slid first one, then two fingers inside her, curling them just right. Izzy shattered with a hoarse cry, her body shuddering and clenching around his fingers as the orgasm crashed over her in wave after wave of searing bliss.

Rylan gentled his touch, lapping at her slowly as she came down from the high. When the last aftershock had faded, he pressed one final, soft kiss to her center and crawled back up her body, stretching out beside her. Izzy turned into him, boneless and sated, her skin still humming with pleasure.

“That was...” She trailed off, unable to find words to adequately describe the intensity of what she’d just experienced.

“Fucking gorgeous.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. “I love the sounds you just made. Loved watching you fly apart as I tasted you. Loved knowing I’m the one who did that to you.”

Izzy leaned into his touch, her heart swelling with emotion. She’d never felt so cherished, so...loved. Even if he couldn’t say the words, she felt it in every brush of his fingers, every heated glance, every reverent kiss.

She reached between them, her fingers skimming over the hard planes of his stomach to the waistband of his jeans. She could feel how much he wanted her, straining against the denim. “Your turn,” she murmured, pushing him onto his back.

Rylan went willingly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as she straddled his hips. “Yes, ma’am.”

She took her time exploring him, mapping the hard planes and angles of his body with her hands and mouth. She traced the ink of his tattoo with her tongue, following the swirls of color down the corded muscle of his arm. She kissed each scar, each mark that told the story of his strength and survival.

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