Page 87 of Claim Me

Alexander’s teeth caught my lower lip, but I wasn’t interested in rough. I wanted to worship him. I wanted to show him that no part of him was ever damaged in my eyes. Our scars made us stronger.

“No,” I whispered, pushing him against the door gently.

Alexander’s eyes hooded as I unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it over his shoulders. They still shuttered against the marks that covered his powerful body, but I loved those imperfections that proved he was a man who’d fought death and won. Dipping my lips to his chest, I kissed the bullet wound that had nearly taken him from me and then the one that had missed entirely.

He drew a harsh breath, as if I was releasing something in him he didn’t know he’d carried. I wanted to move lower to kiss every scar, to erase the guilt he’d allowed to fester there, but he caught my neck and brought my lips back to his.

His hands swept down, lifting my dress and I stopped kissing him only for the moment it took to shed it.

“My Clara. I want to make love to you every year when the wisterias bloom,” he whispered against my lips. “And every winter by the fire and all the days between.”

It was so easy to get caught up in the rush of the world around us, always planning for the next moment and worrying about making it to the next day while fearing what lay ahead. But, in that moment, I knew that every sunset prepared us for another day together.

“Love me?” I asked, and he did.

Chapter 26

Alexander

There was only her and the distant sound of rain on the window panes. Her lips brushed over another scar and the sensation built into a vibration that roared through me turning into a growl. She would always free the beast I leashed. Only she had that power now. I’d given it to her.

“Love me.”

Her words asked something else of me entirely. She wasn’t seeking domination or release.

What Clara needed was far more intimate. She needed to give herself to me in a way that had nothing to do with her body.

She was handing me her heart—her soul.

Her trust.

I’d earned it again, and I had no idea how. But I wouldn’t betray it again. Later, I would tell her about my meeting. Later, we would decide what to do.

Now? Now I would love her. I would worship her. I would show her that every piece of me lived for her. I’d traded everything I was to be half the man she deserved and I would spend the rest of my life becoming the man she needed.

Her mouth continued to trace my scars, sending an unspoken message that I couldn’t quite translate. I always wondered why she gravitated toward them—how she could love the proof of my weakness. But each kiss soothed a pain I always carried. Usually, her touch ignited every nerve ending. This did the opposite. A deep peace settled over me, and I realized she was giving me permission.

Permission to love her.

Permission to protect her.

Permission to need her.

Understanding flooded through me. Clara wasn’t a weak woman. She’d fought me at every turn for her independence, and she’d pushed back whenever she felt I was being overprotective. At the same time, she’d given herself again and again. Choosing me when I lied. Choosing me when I failed. Choosing me when I couldn’t. She’d protected me through it all. Clara guarded my heart more closely than her own. She was stronger than I would ever be.

Clara saw fear and faced it every time.

I only had my body to offer—as a shield, as protection. My heart was no match for hers. It was as mighty and beautiful as the woman who’d given it to me.

I knew then that she would continue to guard the lives of our children. She would continue to carry the burdens I could not. She would be the force behind my strength, and I would be her protector.

My hand found her chin and brought her mouth to mine. She sighed into the kiss as if she knew that I understood what she was trying to tell me. I had a message of my own to send. My tongue slipped against hers, savouring her, knowing I would never have enough of her. Every moment she was more beautiful in ways that had nothing to do with her full lips and haunted eyes. She was beautiful in herself—in her grace, in her spirit, in her vulnerability and her strength.

Lifting her into my arms, I carried her to a polished round table in the certain of the room. I laid her across it and she blossomed like the flower carved into its surface. My hands caressed the softness of her thigh and she bloomed further, opening her body to me as she had her heart. Moving up, I pushed her skirt to the swell of life she carried. As I began to draw her knickers down, my eyes caught on the scar concealed there. I fell to my knees, pulling them free and brought my lips to that place.

She carried her own scars—ones she’d endured for me. This one was proof of our love in a way that no other could be. I kissed across it and Clara shuddered, her arms reaching to grip the edges of the table.

The final piece had fallen into place—the last unspoken words made clear. Her scars didn’t show her weakness—they showed her strength.