Page 39 of Beautiful Scar

There are footsteps on his side. They pause, then get louder as someone approaches.

My heart’s racing so hard I might pass out. Sweat rolls down my spine. God, I’m so scared, it’s pathetic.

It’s just sex, right?

The door rolls open, and Tigran’s there. He fills the doorway with his big frame. A black t-shirt clings to his muscular body. He’s in a pair of joggers and socks, his hair brushed back and slightly damp like he’s fresh from a shower.

My mouth opens, and I lick my lips.

He’s beautiful. God, he’s so handsome, it’s obscene. That mouth, that jaw. Those arms. Those hands. I want to feel him crushing up against me again like he did downstairs in the hallway. Pin my hands above my head. Spank me until I scream.

“You look good,” he says softly, gently, and I finally notice the way he’s staring at me.

Like hewantsme. Pure, thick lust. The look of a man who knows what he needs.

I’ve never been looked at like that before, and it feels good.

Arousal floods my core.

I open my mouth to respond?—

But he walks forward, roughly pulls me against him, and buries his mouth on mine.

I’m taken off guard. I’m so surprised that all I can do is return the kiss and let myself sink into him.

Muscular chest. Beating heart. Powerful arms.

And a mouth that tastes like soap, honey, and whiskey.

His tongue invades my mouth. Our teeth touch briefly. His lips open as I whimper into him, mindless and breathless with how good this kiss feels. I’ve never been this turned on in my entire life. I’m trembling with nerves, but also with how badly I want him to just keep going.

We hold that kiss. I’m pressed into him, squirming slightly in his arms. I wriggle my hips as my nipples brush against his chest. He’s stooped to kiss me, our height difference pretty damn noticeable right now.

“This way,” he whispers and leads me into the bedroom.

I keep waiting for him to strip me. I figure he wants to get this over with. Fuck me rough and fast, come inside me, and get the hell out of here, right? That’s all this is.

Instead, he sits on the edge of the bed and drags me into his lap.

I let out a little moan as I straddle him. We’re still clothed, but this is the closest to sex I’ve ever been, and we’re only just starting. His fingers brush through my hair as he tugs me toward him, kissing me lightly at first, before smothering me with his tongue again.

I ache into that kiss. My hips grind into his. I feel him getting hard between my legs, and holy shit. He’s long and thick. I grind down, pulse pounding between my legs.

“You look so fucking good,” he whispers, pulling back to look at me.

Embarrassment and arousal war in my chest. “I’m not wearing anything special.”

“You always look this way to me. Do you have any idea how restrained I’ve been?”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“I bet you are.” He presses a thumb in my mouth again. It’s the same one I bit last time, and I’m tempted to do it again. “Suck, baby.”

I decide to be a good girl tonight, and I obey. I run my tongue around and around, and when his thumb is nice and wet, he pulls it out, slips his hand up my top, and swirls my spit aroundmy stiff nipple. He kisses me as he does it, and, God, it feels good.

When he pulls back, I let out a little moan. I want more. I need him closer. He pulls off his shirt, showing off whorls of black tattoos and several knotted scars. A knife through the roof of a house. A burning tree. He pulls my shirt off next before leaning forward to kiss my neck.

It feels incredible. My core is pulsing with arousal. His mouth moves down to my breasts, and he licks my stiff, pink nipples. I run my hands through his thick hair, luxuriating in how nice it feels.

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