Page 25 of Stripped

Chapter 14

He should walk away. He rubbed his face, the stubble from his beard rough against his palm. Walk away. She's too young. Yet her thoughts and actions today spoke otherwise. She had what he would call an old soul. In truth, he found her fascinating and the darkness that haunted her mind provoked something in him, challenged him. Green eyes from his past, continued to warn him. Walk away. He blinked, trying to clear his mind of their noble innocence. They did not belong to him. They never would.

He found himself sitting on the bed next to her. She let the towel drop. Her body, while extremely thin, was strong, each muscle, long, lean and developed. He set his drink down on the nightstand and laid her back, running his hand down the flat planes of her stomach. Throwing the towel on the floor, he kissed her. She responded instantly, arching underneath him. She brought her hands up and started to unbutton his shirt, but he stopped her, pinning one of her arms above her head.

Her eyes narrowed, intent on his face. "I'm not fucking you with your clothes on."

"Christ, the mouth on you. I should wash it out with soap," he said, slightly taken aback at her bluntness.

She laughed. "Tit for tat. I'm naked." She stared at him boldly, daring him.

He sat her up, so she straddled him as he sat on the edge of the bed. "It's not a pretty sight, princess."

She undid the buttons, sliding the shirt off his shoulders, and froze. Her hand came up, touching his ruined chest softly. "Pretty is an understatement. It's a bloody, fucking mess," she said, pushing him back.

* * *

Maybe it was the viciousness of the scars, red and welted, that covered his upper body in an ugly and intrusive way, but the same unguarded lust from last night came over her. He understood her nightmares. He had his own, and it made her want him even more.

"Someone once said they were beautiful."

"Someone was lying." She undid his belt, sliding it from his pants. "They're bloody gruesome, but I like them."

"Of course, you do." He had her flipped over on her back in an instant and a large hand grabbed both her wrists. His fingers dug into her skin, reminding her he was in control. The wetness grew between her legs. "You don't get to touch," he said, placing her hands above her head. He unfastened the button on his pants and pulled his cock out. Already hard, he spread her legs apart and ran it along her cleft. He entered her in one thrust as she cried out, stretching to accommodate him.

While her past was certainly not innocent, it had been over two years since she was with anyone. She brought her hands between them.

"Leave them," he barked, putting them back above her, holding them there. She started to say something, but he silenced her, kissing her coarsely. Her orgasm began to build deep inside as he continued to drive into her with an incessant hunger, and an intoxicating heat unfurled throughout her body.

"Please," she begged.

"Petitions?" he asked in her ear, his breath sending shivers up her spine, bringing her that much closer to the edge. She had never felt so consumed by a man before. "Please what, Primrose?"

She couldn't speak, couldn't think. At the moment, he devoured any rational thought with his control and power. She cried out as her climax shattered within her, and his body tensed with his own release. He looked down, his eyes dark with satisfaction and let go of her wrists as he pulled out of her. They were silent, the only sound, the ragged inhale and exhale of their breathing as they lay on the bed, returning to reality.

His hand covered his face. "Christ, we shouldn't have done that."

She rolled over on her stomach, her head turned so she faced him. "You worry too much. I've already told you I'm not looking for a relationship. It was sex, plain and simple. It doesn't have to be complicated."

"I don't think sex is ever just plain and simple. I'm supposed to be protecting you."

She laughed at this. "After the reading of the will tomorrow, we go our separate ways. That was the deal. If you haven't figured out what you need by then, I don't think I can help you."

"Primrose, the threat against you is real, just like it was for your grandfather, or did you already forget that someone followed us in the car and was waiting outside your flat?"

She reached out tentatively and touched one of the scars on his chest. "Why should I trust you?"

He didn't stop her, though he didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was far off as if he were missing more than remembering something. "It was an IED blast during the war. I was stationed in Afghanistan. It should have killed me."

"You were a soldier?"

"Aye, SBS. I was just a lad. I couldn't have been much older than you."

If he meant to offend her, she ignored it. "Some of these scars look new."

His jaw tightened. Whatever he was recalling or lost, obviously caused him suffering. "I had shrapnel removed." He turned on his side, looking at her. "You're right; you shouldn't trust me."

"I don't."

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