Page 11 of At the Edge of Surrender

Cherished.

Fingers fisted in my hair and urging me on, thatyesstill echoing in the air.

Still, I knew I had to be careful with her.

This wasn’t about me.

This was about whatever the hell she was dealing with. Something I wished I had the power to chase away.

Maybe for a little while I could.

Make her forget both her troubles and her name.

“You need to come, sweet girl?” It was a rumble from my tongue as I leaned in and let my nose run the length of her throat.

Her head dropped back, granting me access as those hands pulled hard at my hair. Pinpricks of pain lit in the most delicious way.

My cock turned to stone, pushing at my jeans.

“I don’t even know what that’s like.”

Her response should be a red flag. A reason for me to stop and wrap this woman up and get her safely to wherever she was supposed to be.

But she was moaning the most delectable sound as the tips of my fingers sank deeper into her thighs. Desire coating the air as she whispered, “Show me.”

Greed spiraled through my being, and I let my mouth take the place of my nose. I kissed along the delicate flesh at the side of her neck and up behind her ear.

Imbibing her intoxicating scent.

As sweet as the roses my mother used to grow out in her garden.

“You want me to show you how good I can make you feel? Send you flyin’?” I rumbled it at her flesh.

A tremble rocked her.

Right down that tempting, perfect body.

“I know you can. Make it stop hurting.” It sounded like a prayer. Like a hope that had gone dim.

I edged back to take her in where she was propped on the edge of the desk.

Wearing a black dress, the short sleeves capped in lace, a match to the frilly skirt that was bunched high on her thighs.

The woman short and slim and toned.

Every inch quaked with need.

Sun-kissed locks mussed from her tumble, those amber eyes both alight and despairing. Face the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen.

Which was all fucked up considering the life I lived.

I knew beauty.

Tore through it like a fiend.

But there was something about her that pierced me like aknife. Hooked me in a glance. This familiarity that tugged at my consciousness.

Like she fucking mattered when there was no chance of that.

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