He pinches his eyes closed for a moment before looking deep into my eyes. “Promise me this won’t fuck things up between us. If you’re not ready or if—”
“I promise.” Cupping his strong jaw, I run my thumb along his stubbled cheek. So handsome. “Now, may I?”
“Never say no to you, Mouse,” he whispers. “Never.” He grips my head, and brings his lips to mine in a passionate kiss.
Our tongues thrash together, desire pushing our bodies impossibly closer. Hips grinding, hands roaming, breathless moans and whimpers filling the room. He sits up and pulls me close so that I’m straddling his lap. He moves to my breast and sucks one nipple deep into his mouth. I roll my hips in approval. My body heats, feeling like it’s on the verge of catching fire from the attention of his skilled mouth. “Blake—”
“Need these off.” He tugs at the waistband of my pants.
Grateful that they’re drawstring, I make quick work of the tie and open them enough for him to slide his hand in. The intrusion of his fingers beneath my swim bottoms drops my head back on a purr.
“Fucking beautiful.” He slides two fingers in, and my breath hitches. “Everything about you is so damn perfect.”
With his hand engaged between my legs, he drops back to the bed. I look down to see his forearm running the length of his impressive abdomen. It flexes as he rolls his fingers, and the tightening in my belly coils deeper, bringing me to the edge of delirium.
Reaching up, he hooks me behind my neck and pulls me down to him. I’m swirling, light-headed. Greedy for more, I straighten my legs, and with the help of his free hand, I kick off my pants and bikini bottoms.
I’m completely naked. Totally exposed. But I don’t feel powerless or ashamed.
I feel desired. Worshiped. Cared for.
His fingers move in sensual and tender strokes. “Damn, look at you.” He runs his gaze over my face. I’m surprised, with all of his available options, he’s choosing to keep his eyes on my face. “Those eyes. So fucking sexy.”
Bared to him completely, and yet he praises me for something so everyday. A smile twitches my lips, but fails to develop. My nerves are on high, skin vibrating as my need pushes me higher and higher.
Reaching between us, I grip him beneath his shorts, and curb my reaction to jump back at his size. Heated steel warms my palm, and I tighten my hold. A hiss of pleasure shoots from his lips. I stroke him and then latch on to his mouth to swallow the deep groan that bubbles up from his throat.
His abdominal muscles flex and release in time with my caress. I pull back to watch, but he chases my lips, insisting I stay with him. The kiss becomes urgent, like no matter how much I give him, it’ll never be enough.
“Can’t take it anymore.” He pulls at my hips to roll me on top of him.
He scoots down the bed beneath me while encouraging me to crawl toward the headboard. He trails his lips between my breasts, down my ribs, and over my belly button, making sure to hit every erogenous zone on his way down. Oh, wow.
The new position releases a million butterflies that start in my middle and race all over my body. I grab the headboard and pull myself up while he continues his journey down.
I’m lost in sensations, responding to the contact and begging for more.
The tender touch of his lips whispers along the skin just above my pubic bone. Deliberate swipes of his mouth and gentle nuzzles of his nose. I’m lost, gone in a flurry of euphoric bliss.
He grips my bottom tight. “What the fuck?”
My muscles tense when I realize what he’s found. Oh shit.
Blake
She tries to wiggle away, but I clasp her hips, keeping her in place. The jagged scar, well below her belly button, is the focus. I know scars. They’re common in the life of a professional fighter. But a scar down here, so close to—that motherfucker. Fury, hot and catching, floods my veins.
“What happened?” My barked question says accusation, not curiosity.
She tries to scamper away again, and I flip her to her back, my shoulders between her legs. I keep my grip on her hips.
“Blake.” The warning in her tone gets my attention.
“Mouse, don’t worry. I’ll let you go.” I place a delicate kiss on her scar. “I’m just curious.”
She bucks once and throws her forearm over her eyes. “I got caught up in everything and I forgot. Dammit.”
I run my finger along the silvery strip and kiss the surrounding skin. What could it be? It’s too big to be a stab wound, but seems too sloppy for a surgical scar. “Don’t shut down on me. Tell me what happened.”
Her tensed muscles relax fractionally at my whispered words. I continue to brush and pull at her tender skin with my lips, urging her to calm, silently begging her to trust me.
I don’t move any lower, but linger, content to stay between her legs as long as it takes for her to talk to me. If Stew did this to her, I’ll hunt him down like a pig and slaughter his ass. I keep this information to myself, knowing that my flipping out will only chase her away.
“C-section scar,” she finally whispers.
Well, thank God.
My breathing slows, and I study her skin. It looks like the damn procedure was done with a box cutter. The line isn’t straight, and the skin is puckered, like it healed wrong in some places. “Why?” It sounds like a stupid question, but I don’t know shit about baby delivery.
She clears her throat. “I’m small. I was smaller at sixteen. Axelle was almost ten pounds.”
“Fuckin’ hell, Mouse.” I don’t know much about babies, but I know weight. A ten-pound baby coming out of this tiny body? I resume my kissing hoping to hide my grimace, and trace the line with my lips. “Does it hurt?”
“No. It’s hard to explain. Kind of numb, I guess.” She coughs out a laugh. “Guess this is the first time you’ve ever been naked with a mom before.” Throwing her hands over her face, she groans. “Embarrassing.”
She’s right. I’ve never been with a mom. I don’t tell her that women with children were on my list of sexual no-no’s. It’s possible I unknowingly hooked up with a chick that had a kid, but I’ve never seen a scar like this before. I’d remember that.
I slide up her body and pull her hands apart to see her face. She looks up at me with unease.
“No, never been with a mom.” She rolls her eyes, and I catch her arms to keep her from covering her face again. “Scars aren’t ugly, Layla.” She startles, the sound of her name from my mouth getting her attention. But I need her to know how dead fucking serious I am about what I’m about to say. “They’re badges. Reminders of the experiences in our lives that were important enough to leave a mark.” Gazing down the length of her perfectly naked body, I skate my finger from her throat straight to the scar. “This is a reminder of what you have and what you went through to get her here. Not a damn thing ugly about that.”
Her eyes sparkle, and she reaches up to run her hand over my hair and behind my neck. “Yeah, I like that.”
“I like it too,” I whisper and slide my hand lower.
“I’m glad—oh, gosh.”
I catch her breathless gasp with my mouth.
Everything I learn about her—the good, the bad—only makes her more attractive. I told myself to stay away from women with children for so many reasons. But I’m finding that some of her sexiest qualities revolve around her being a mom. Her patience and determination to right her wrongs with her daughter. Her concern for Axelle’s stability. And her capacity to love. I’ve never met anyone so complex and yet so simply beautiful.
I want her. All of her.
Trailing kisses down her body, she moans as I pass my lips over her scar again. But this time, I don’t stop there. I press open her thighs and wedge myself between her legs, throwing one of them over my shoulder.