Page 17 of Save Me

I squeeze him again, wishing I could crawl inside him and take up residence there, chase them away for him. "I guess I'll just have to keep them at bay for you," I murmur against his throat. "They'll have to go through me to get to you."

"Yeah? You're going to fight my nightmares for me, little bird?"

"Yep."

"You going to let me fight yours for you? Slay your dragons?"

"I slay my own dragons, Brantley."

"Of course you do." His body shakes, and for a minute, I think he's laughing at me, but then his eyes meet mine. I see the softness there—the emotion—and I realize that isn't the case at all. I think he…admires me.

"You've got me feeling things I shouldn't, Isla," he breathes, staring at me so intently it's like I'm looking inside him, seeing all those pieces of him that he doesn't show to anyone. The world looks at him and sees a failure, someone who fell into addiction because he's a problem. But that's not who he is. He's so much more complicated than that.

He's just a man who lived through hell and tried to survive it, one who fought his way back and found his way. One who sacrificed his own peace of mind to protect his mom. And one who still sacrifices to protect her. He's a man worthy of respect. I wish he saw the same thing because he deserves to see that man. He deserves to feel like him. And I'm not sure he's ever felt like him.

"Why not?" I whisper, guiding him to his back as I crawl over him. When he momentarily freezes, I pause, remembering what he said earlier, about never touching people before me. "Is this okay? If it's too much, I can–"

He sits up beneath me, his hands clamped around my hips as he chases my mouth with his. "Don't you dare," he growls. "You're perfect right where you are. More than perfect."

"You said you didn't like people touching you."

"You're different. You can touch me anytime, anyplace." His tongue slips into my mouth, tangling with mine in a kiss that sends me spiraling. I grasp his shoulders, whimpering as my core clenches, heat rocketing through me in a delicious wave. Good grief. He's frightfully good at that. Or maybe we're good at it together. I'm not entirely sure. But I like the way he tastes. I like the way he growls and clings to me like he wants me as close as possible. And I really like the way he rocks me against him as if he's unable to stop himself from doing it.

"Brantley," I gasp, my back arching as he breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down my chest. His hands slip under my shirt,dragging it up my body. Within seconds, he's pulling it off over my head, leaving me writhing half-naked on top of him.

"Jesus, little bird." His wild gaze roves over me, the heat banked there setting me ablaze all over again. "You're so fucking pretty." His hands slide up my body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. "I may never stop touching you just to watch the way you shiver and moan in response."

"Yes, do that."

He grins, unhooking my bra before peeling it down my arms. I help him fling it away, completely lost in him and the look in his eyes as he devours me with a single glance.

"Fucking hell, little bird." He swallows hard, his eyes flickering from my chest to my face and then back again. "I need my mouth all over those."

"I'm not stopping you, Brantley." I run my fingers through his hair, tugging gently. "As a matter of fact, I can think of a few places I want my mouth too…"

"Oh, yeah?" He grins, his eyes dark with desire. "Like where?"

"Take your shirt off."

He leans against the back of the couch, jerking it off without another word. My gaze falls to his chest, my mouth going dry. Good grief. I knew he was gorgeous, but I was not remotely prepared for just how beautiful he is. The tattoos licking up his collarbones twist all the way down his sides in stark lines. Others litter his chest in bold colors and elegant lines. They're stunning against his golden skin and the thick, corded muscle beneath.

"You're beautiful," I whisper, tracing a fingertip along an angel's outstretched wing across his chest.

He shudders beneath me, his stomach muscles contracting.

I lean forward slowly, carefully, trying not to move too fast. I don't want this to feel uncomfortable for him, especially since letting people touch him is new. The fact that he's letting me do it makes me feel…special as hell.

"Jesus Christ," he groans, his voice strangled when I trace the lines of the tattoo down one collarbone. He wheezes out a curse, his hands locking around my hips when I trail my lips onto his chest, kissing and tasting him there too. His skin is so damn smooth, but there's nothing soft about him. He's steel encased in silk. "Fucking hell, Isla. You're killing me."

"That's the plan."

He growls, a sound that's all yes.

I rake my teeth across his flat nipple.

"Eek!" I squeak when I'm suddenly on my back beneath him, his body wedged between my legs.

"You're a dangerous, dangerous woman," he growls, his eyes on fire as he claims my mouth in a punishing kiss. I moan into it, arching beneath him.

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