Page 24 of Marks of Rebellion
"No. You don't."
"I... I've been taught to hide things. And..." She exhales, and her blue eyes fill with tears.
The river is deeper where I stand, and she treads water to maintain her position near me. I reach for her waist then wrap my arms around her and position her legs around my body.
She continues, "...when the rest of the women were getting first aid last night, it was okay to let Malin look at my wounds. But..." She turns away from me.
"But what, Flower?" I quietly ask.
She turns back. "It's hard for me to let you look at them when we've been together."
"Because of your fiancé? He hurt you?"
Her lip quivers, and tears fall from her sad eyes. She looks away again. Shame radiates off her.
I palm her head and murmur in her ear, "He will never touch you again. I will kill him."
She shudders.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to scare you."
She strokes my cheek. "Please don't keep apologizing to me. You haven't done anything wrong, either."
"No?"
"No."
"I'm around a group of guys most hours of my day. My tone isn't always coming out how I want it to around you. When I sound gruff, I don't mean to."
She holds my face firmly. "Hunter, you haven't done anything wrong," she repeats. "I don't want you to stop being you."
The noise of jungle animals fills our silence.
"I won't ever hurt you. Not by my hand or any other part of my body. And if I say something that does, I need you to tell me so I don't make a mistake twice," I blurt out.
Tears drip again, but she leans forward and kisses me.
If I could bottle up her kisses and live inside that container, I would. It's like an epiphany of everything I've been missing in my life.
They're soft.
They're intense.
They're the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow that doesn't exist but everyone is looking to find.
It takes only a few steps to get to the angled, flat rock that juts out of the water. I use her kisses as permission and bend over until she's lying on top of the rock. I set the soap and shampoo on it.
And all the things I wanted to do to her last night, I do now. I tear my lips from hers and travel to her nipples. They are already pebbled, as if waiting for me to devour them.
I lick and suck them as the sound of the birds' squawking mixes with the moans coming out of her glorious mouth.
Her fingers slide into my hair, and she grips my ears, massaging them and arching farther into me.
Every part of her makes my mouth water for more, and I dip down and throw her thighs over my shoulders.
The moment my mouth hits her pussy, she cries out, and her clit pulses against my lips.
She tastes like a ripe pineapple with a bit of salt. Sweet. Juicy. A concoction so delicious, I'll never get my fill.
