Page 150 of Deliverance

A small gasp escapes my throat. “What about your ribs?”

“That’s the last thing you should worry about right now.” A wicked smile flashes at me as we approach the door, which I unlock.

Zander pushes it open with his shoulder and marches straight for the stairs, then goes down the hall and into the bedroom, where I request to be put down, but he refuses.

“I’ve made it this far. What’s another two steps?”

Finally, he lays me down on the bed, spreading me over the softest blankets ever so carefully, his face level with mine.

We share a heated breath. Then another. And another.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the pleasant heaviness of his body on me, the expanse of his chest, the firmness of his stomach, the length of his legs, and the strength of his arms.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” Zander’s voice is a sensuous, belly-twisting whisper.

“And I can’t stop thinking about you.” I run my palm over his cheek and down to his jaw, savoring the rough scrape of the stubble.

“I’ve wanted many things in my life, but I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything as badly as I want you. I’ve wanted you since before the moment I saw you.”

My heart lurches, its thuds into my sternum growing faster. Part of me is still confused, but part of me doesn’t care anymore.

Zander’s lips find mine, coaxing them into a slow kiss, a kiss that carries a certain promise.

My hands come around his back, inspecting the corded muscles beneath his skin, my fingers dragging down the grooves of his spine as if reacquainting themselves with his form again.

He tastes of adventure.

He’s fire and stone and everything in between, and I’m drowning in the heady scent of him.

“Do you really want this?” Zander murmurs, drawing back a little. “I’m afraid to mess it up.”

“Yes.” I meet his sky blue gaze. “I do want this.”

He hesitates before posing the next question, quiet and tentative, “Is there…something specific you like? Tell me.”

Oh God. I swallow and the pulse in my throat quickens. My mind begins to race in millions of different directions. “I don’t know what I should or can want, Zander.” There’s a little bit of panic creeping into my voice now and I wonder if he’s rethinking everything. Rethinking us. Because I truly am a handful. Yet somehow, the words, though shameless and unexpected, still pour out of me. “You’ll have to show me.”

He slips his hands down to my legs and slowly hikes up my skirt. His eyes rove my face while his calloused fingers draw crooked trails over my thighs.

“Take off your clothes,” I tell him, needing more skin-on-skin contact, needing more of his singeing heat, needing to see that stunning canvas of ink.

“Oh, bossy.” He smirks.

My body reacts to his innuendo like cesium to a drop of water. Sparkles surge through my limbs. “I don’t see how we’ll get anything done with all these clothes on,” I tease.

He grins wolfishly. “Trust me, I can make it happen.”

Oh, I have no doubt.“I’d like to see you.” A simple request. “Naked.”

Little fires light up his features. “You ask. You shall receive.” He straightens and peels off his shirt, revealing his delicious, made-for-sin body, each ripple of his muscles sending me closer to that still barely familiar edge.

With shaking hands, I reach for his belt and work the buckle as our chests heave in unison, each inhale fast and ragged.

Zander wrestles off his jeans and lifts me up from the blanket to help me with my dress. Moments later, it joins the rest of his clothes somewhere on the floor while we share a nervous half-laugh, our mouths finding each other again, our tongues brushing.

He nips at my lower lip and blood roars in my ears. Large palms glide around my back to unhook my bra, and the second it lands atop the pile somewhere by the foot of the bed, my fears and insecurities flood in. I don’t know why. We’ve been intimate before, but beneath the cover of darkness, in my own apartment, it felt different. Right now, his room, still new and foreign, is illuminated by the bright moonlight spilling inside through the huge window pane and the lack of anything covering it makes me uneasy.

As if the entire world can see my scars.

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