Page 60 of Her Wicked Hero

Marcia held out her arms. She was wearing ripped jeans, sneakers, and a purple peasant blouse. He’d thought she’d looked like a gypsy all day.

“You’re looking at me funny,” she said tremulously.

“You’re beautiful.”

Her fingers went up to touch her face. He knelt down on the bed, gripped her wrist, and pulled her hand away.

“Marcia listen to me, you’re beautiful. I know this is important to you, so yes, you are healing, but I need you to know, even if the scarring were permanent, you’d still be beautiful.”

He watched as her eyes welled with tears. As two escaped he kissed them away. Even her tears tasted good. He lifted up and looked at her.

“I need to know we’re on the same page, you want this, right?”

“With everything in me,” she choked out.

Marcia watched wide-eyed as Zed slipped back off the bed and knelt at the bottom. He unlaced her shoes and took them off along with her socks. She heard his indrawn breath as he pushed up her jeans leg to view her calf. He traced the scar. Up and down. Then he bent and traced the red raised flesh with his tongue.

“Does this hurt?”

She had trouble catching her breath, when finally did, she eked out the word, “No.”

“That doesn’t sound very sure.”

She sat up on her elbows. “Well for goodness sakes, you’re caressing me and driving me out of my mind,” she said with exasperation.

“I think we can do better than this,” he said wickedly. He pulled on her arms, and she was sitting up on the edge of the bed staring into his eyes. “I love this top, but it has to go.”

Her mouth went dry. If he was going to take off her blouse that meant she’d get to see what was under his T-shirt. He’d changed clothes once in the jungle, but too much had been going on to truly appreciate it. But right now? Oh, yeah. Without thinking about it, her hands went to the hem of his shirt, and she was drawing it upwards. Zed’s eyelids got heavy as he stared at her, but he wasn’t stopping her. Marcia continued.

“Lift up your arms,” she whispered into the quiet of the room. He did. Once again her eyes were drawn to the pinkened gunshot wound on his neck and upper shoulder. Zed must have figured out the reason for her hesitancy because he threw off his shirt and cupped her face.

“I’m fine Marcia. I’m fine.”

She opened her mouth to make a smart-aleck comment about just how fine he was, but she couldn’t. He could have died. Too many people in her life had died. Then she slowly realized, that was exactly the point, and she smiled. Darn it, this moment in time was important, it was glorious, it was meant to be savored.

She spread her palms against his warm chest, loving the feel of all that heat and power. She was so entranced, she didn’t realize Zed was untucking her blouse from her jeans until he told her to lift up her arms. Reluctantly, she did.

“I was hoping you were wearing the lavender bra,” he confided.

She barely heard him, all of her concentration focused on getting her hands back on his chest. The man even had an eight-pack. Marcia stroked her hands down his ridged abdomen, and she sighed in pleasure.

“Ahhh,” he groaned. He liked. Well then, how about this? She grinned when he moaned as she scraped her nails up the center of his body.

Marcia had been concentrating so hard on his responses, she was shocked when Zed’s warm hands encased her bare breasts.

“I love front opening bras,” he murmured. She whimpered when his thumbs stroked her swollen nipples. “Again. I love the sounds you make.” Marcia pushed up against his palms.

Fire raced through her, she had never experienced anything close to this level of desire before. Why? Was it Zed? Was it because she’d been so close to death?

“I must be doing this wrong,” Zed said. His thumbs started to circle the tight nubs of flesh.

“Huh?”

“You’re thinking too hard.”

How’d he know she’d been questioning…?

“Oh, no,” she let out a shrill cry as his mouth encompassed one swollen nipple. His tongue swirled, round and round, her other nipple pinched in a matching rhythm.