Page 45 of Your Second Chance
I nodded furiously, although I hated this edging.
He slipped his fingers beneath the edges of my underwear, his touch aggravatingly teasing. He hooked them at my hips and dragged them down, inch by agonizing inch. With the fabric gone, the air hit my overheated skin.
He leaned in, pressing his lips to my thigh, soft at first, almost reverent. But the softness didn’t last. His mouth moved higher, his kisses growing more deliberate, more dangerous. His tongue flicked against the sensitive skin where my leg met my hip, and my breath hitched as I jerked toward him, but he didn’t give me what I needed.
No, he stayed out of reach, his mouth leaving a trail of heat and want as it worked over my skin. His hands followed, calloused palms running up the length of my thighs, owning every inch of me.
“Fuck,” I whispered shakily.
My hips tilted instinctively, desperate for relief, for his mouth to finally go where I was aching for him, but he chuckled.
“Patience, love,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the hollow of my hip. “You taste too fucking good to rush.”
I whimpered, my body trembling, my thighs quivering under his relentless touch. His lips moved again, pressing close enough to make me gasp, but just far enough to keep me wanting.
“Please.”
He smiled against my skin, the curve of his lips wicked. “Not yet,” he whispered, dragging his mouth up the inside of my thigh.
So close, so fucking close, I could feel the heat of him where I needed him most. He held back, making me burn for him, making me lose myself completely to the fire he’d started.
“Take off your shirt.”
Without hesitation, I tugged my shirt over my head, the fabric falling to the floor in a heap. For good measure, I unhooked my bra and let it slide off as well, leaving me completely bare before him.
He was still on his knees, roaming his gaze over me as if he were memorizing every detail. Slowly, he lifted his hands to my stomach, cradling the soft swell with a gentleness that stole the breath from my lungs.
A single tear slid down his cheek, quiet and unassuming, so subtle it almost went unnoticed. But the sight of this strong, unyielding man kneeling before me, his emotion laid bare, hit me harder than I could have anticipated. My own eyes burned with unshed tears, but before I could process it, he stood.
His fingers grazed my breasts, tracing the curves with a featherlight touch, his thumbs circling the peaks of my sensitive nipples. I cried out, my body trembling under his touch.
He leaned in, his lips brushing mine in the softest kiss before pulling back. His eyes met mine, his voice like a caress. “Beautiful.”
He stepped back and moved his hands to his jeans, unbuttoning them and sliding them off in one swift motion. His shirt followed, landing on the floor without a care.
And he was... magnificent. A god, carved from stone. His ink swirled up his arms, wrapping around his chest in intricate patterns. His body was sculpted, his thighs thick and powerful. With a low curse, he hooked his thumbs beneath the waistband and shoved the fabric down, kicking free until nothing separated us.
“Lie down,” he commanded.
I looked down at the bed, suddenly terrified.
I hadn’t slept restfully in months. Sleep was where the nightmares came, where the baby was no longer in my belly, andI was alone. Alone because Luna had left me, like everyone else in my life eventually did. Sleep was where my fears found me, louder and more vivid than in the daylight. Sleep was so fucking scary.
I avoided it. Or I slept too much. But it was never restful. It was messy, like me. Everything about me was a disaster, and the chaos felt endless.
“I-I can’t.” I swallowed hard, steeling myself to share this confession with him. “I can’t lie down because if I lie down, I might close my eyes, and that’s when the nightmares come, so I can’t.”
I sighed, resigned to the fact that I was never going to feel normal. Even in a moment of heated passion, I was scared of what would happen if I lay down.
“Come here,” he crooned.
He lifted the covers and slid in, grabbing onto my waist and hoisting me in next to him. His warmth wrapped around like a cocoon of protection.
I moved closer, and he draped his leg over mine, locking me into place against him. We lay there, naked and exposed, the silence between us heavy, but comforting. Every so often, he pressed a kiss to my forehead, then my cheek, like he couldn’t help himself.
“I don’t have words,” he murmured, his breath brushing against my skin. “I don’t have the words to tell you how beautiful you are. How perfectly you fit.”
I wanted to tell him that I didn’t either, that whatever this was between us had taken the words out of my mouth, leaving me with only the sound of his heartbeat so close to mine.
