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Every time he kissed me, it was like this. Like nothing else mattered but his lips on mine. Like he’d waited a lifetime to kiss me.
I felt cherished. Loved. Desired. The emotions and lust swirled in my veins until I was grasping his shirt, pulling myself flush to him.
I shamelessly rubbed my body against his, moaning when his thick cock brushed my stomach. Electricity surged through my blood. His lips moved down my neck, nipping and licking as he whispered in my ear. “Do you want to get dressed? Or I should I turn the lights off?”
I stilled. His words were like ice in my veins, threatening to ruin the moment. But that’s what I always did. I covered my body. Only had sex in the dark so he couldn’t see me. We slept together every night, but I’d never let him look at my skin.
Standing in only a towel, I realized how exposed I was. One tug and I would be naked. One slip of the fabric and he would see everything. Every failure. Every wound.
“H-hold on.” I jumped from his embrace, rushing into the closet.
My heart knocked on my ribs as loud as the door as I closed it. I slumped back against the wood, my harsh breathing filled the space. On wobbly legs, I walked to the drawers to my right, pulling one open.
My fingers brushed along the fabric. It was a rainbow of colors. Of silk and lace, judging me. Calling me weak. Telling me I would never get over what happened to me. That I would never be strong enough. I threw the underwear back into the drawer, slamming it shut.
Each day, I fell a little more for my husband. Every kind word or gentle touch had me tumbling down the dangerous path of love. And today, he’d once again proven how important I was to him. Leaving a meeting to be with me.
And with everything he’d given me, I’d given him nothing in return. Goosebumps broke out along my skin as I let the towel fall. My shoulders straightened as I grasped the doorknob. There was one thing I could give him.
Me.
All of me.
The handle felt like fire in my hands as I yanked it open. Vander paused with his shirt halfway down his arms. For a moment, I forgot I was standing in front of him, naked. It was hard to care when my eyes were full of him.
Thick biceps. Bulging muscles. Eight perfectly defined abs with that V cut disappearing under his waistband. He was all tan skin and strength, with a light dusting of dark hair.
And then there were the tattoos and scars covering his body. The ones that made him look just dangerous enough, strong enough, to protect me.
He was the guy women fantasized about. The one that blew those fantasies away because the real thing was better.
“Fuck.” His curse was coarse, skating along my skin. “You’re gorgeous.”
I couldn’t breathe as he tossed his shirt aside and crossed the room to me. His rough hands landed on my hips, but he didn’t stay there. As his lips nuzzled my neck, his palms explored. Roaming over my curves.
His fingers brushed the swell of my breasts, skimming low over my stomach and back up again until he grabbed either side of my neck. My eyes shot to his as he moved me to gaze up at him.
“Perfect.” His lips brushed mine as I turned my head away.
I couldn’t look at those deep green eyes anymore. They seemed to bore into my soul. Notice everything I tried to hide.
I wasn’t perfect. I was broken, and I couldn’t let him see it.
“Oh, no.” His fingers flexed on my neck, making me gasp. “If you’re going to give yourself to me, then you need to watch.”
What? I didn’t get to voice the question because he was already turning me. My ass connected with his hard cock through his pants as he pulled me back against his body. With his hands on my hips, he led me towards the bed. But instead of climbing in, he stopped at the end.
My heart smacked my ribs as he pushed me forward, stopping in front of a full-length mirror. It leaned against the wall, the gold trim sparkling in the light. It was in the space between the closet and bathroom, across from the bed.
“What are you doing?” I gazed at him in the mirror because I couldn’t look at myself. Not so intimately. Not in the daylight with him watching.
“Helping you see what I see.” I shivered as his hand drifted to my stomach.
He splayed his fist until his pinky was brushing my pubic bone, and his thumb skimmed over my belly button. Lines of scars were under his palm.
Memories tried to push through the surface of my mind, but then he moved, running his fingers back and forth along my skin. My body tingled in response, drawing me to the present. To his touch.
“Do you think I see these scars when I look at you?”
