Page 155 of Beautifully Wounded

She squirms the moment I say, ‘sinking in’, and I know she’s imagining the feel of my fingers stretching her.

“You promise not to touch me anywhere else?”

“I promise. I’ll even give you my gun if it makes you feel better.”

Her shoulders relax at that offer, and she smirks. “No, that’s not necessary.”

Smirking back, I nod and wait to see what she’ll decide, and a moment later, she rolls off the bed.

“Let’s clean you up first.”

There are fucking bugs or butterflies or something in my chest, because I’m pretty fucking sure something is dancing in there the moment she just agreed to my offer.

Disappearing before I can say anything, Abbey returns a moment later with a damp washcloth, coming to stand next to my side of the bed, eyeing my still semi hard cock laying in its own filth.

Grinning, I snatch the cloth and make quick work of cleaning myself, using the towel to dry myself before tossing both on the floor, too fucking worked up about what’s about to happen.

“Get in here, Angel,” I say, half demanding, half playful, hoping she doesn’t change her mind.

She rounds the bed, not looking at me, her brows drawn together deep in thought. I want to tell her to take her clothes off, but I get the feeling her clothes, like my hoodie, are an armour. If she’s wearing them, she’ll feel safer. Less exposed.

If Abbey needs that, then I won’t try to strip her bare.

Slowly, she slides into the bed, pulling up the sheet, hiding her body away.

I’m completely naked now and wonder if I should perhaps put some clothes on, but then she glances down at my cock, hard again just from the idea of her letting me touch her, and her cheeks flush with arousal.

Yeah, she can fucking look all she wants.

“How should I… what do I…” she trails off, and I hold in my grin, not wanting to make her feel self-conscious just because I find her uncertainty adorable.

Rolling to my side, I offer her my hand, my eyes trained on what I can see of her expression in the dull light.

“It’s yours to do with as you please, Angel.”

Her gaze darts to mine, and a flicker of fear flashes in her eyes.

“I want you to know if this doesn’t work… like if I freak out or can’t get over the line or…” she sucks in a deep breath. “It’s not because of you. It’s because of me.” She stabs a finger to her temple in frustration.

Shit.

“I won’t take anything personally, Angel. Don’t worry.” I offer, reaching forward to remove her finger from her temple. “Before we begin, can I kiss you?”

Her breath hitches and her lips part, her dark gaze snapping to my lips.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispers, obviously looking at my split lip.

“Angel, it hurts more not to kiss you.”

This time her lips part in an O before a smile breaks through and she nods.

I don’t waste another fucking second, closing the distance and pressing my lips to hers.

She’s so soft and timid at first, but when my tongue darts out and brushes into her parted lips, she melts into the mattress and gives herself over to the kiss.

Fuck, I love kissing her.

I know I shouldn’t be doing this. My job is to protect her, not bed her, but how can I refuse her if she needs this from me?

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