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She whimpered as he stroked around her belly button.
His heartbeat picked up to an unbearable speed as she suddenly eased off her tattered shirt, then she rolled off him and slid off her little skirt.
He watched her bare every inch of herself to him, and he would never forget the way she looked as she lay on her back in his bed. Completely naked
, except for the small dressings on the bottoms of her breasts, her lashes golden, her eyes shining for him, she was the most gut-wrenchingly beautiful thing he had ever seen—in all of his thirty-five years.
He felt earthquakes in his stomach as he cupped her head, stroking his hands along her scalp and pulling her in for a slow, drugging kiss. “From now on, that’s the way I want you when you get in my bed. I want my skin to feel every inch of yours, Ivy, every inch,” he murmured.
“I’m twisted in knots, Cade,” she said, breathing into his mouth, grasping the front of his shirt. “I need to be with you. I need to.”
His blood bubbling at her words, he uncurled the fingers of one of her hands and then forced it flat above his heart, where it beat like crazy. “I ache, too.”
His cock throbbed in his jeans, desperate to join their bodies again.
“My chest hurts, too.” She nodded as she took his hand, then slowly guided it down her flat abdomen, and lower, to the glistening folds at the apex of her legs. “And here. I ache, too.”
She pressed his hand there, where her liquid heat seeped into his palm like a live volcano ready to erupt. Cade couldn’t help it, his need was too strong, so he cupped her in his hand for a whole minute, aching to rub and stroke her to orgasm, his every nerve and fiber screaming for him to settle down between her legs and bury himself inside of her. “Ivy…”
“We’ll be careful, Cade.”
He met her imploring honeyed gaze while he battled for control. The heel of his palm perfectly cupped her swelling slit and he felt the tiny frissons of need overtaking her little body.
His insides coiled with restraint.
God, he wanted her …
But the bottom swells of her breasts were covered with bandages, the incisions leaving faint pink blood marks on the white gauze. Her nipples still looked so sore, so puckered. Raw, almost, from the procedure. His tongue felt heavy with the need to lave them.
“Ivy … we can’t make love now.”
She cupped his jaw and rose upward to brush her lips across his, her breath sweet and warm on his face. “Cade West doesn’t make love, remember?”
He couldn’t help reaching behind her to fist her hair, intending to hold her for a kiss, and when he realized she had nothing to grab, he cupped the round curve of her scalp instead and devoured her for a full minute, gasping when he tore away. “Cade West makes love only to Ivy.”
They shared a look that spoke volumes, said everything they needed to know and more, and Cade stopped talking. His throat closed, his feelings too close to the surface, his passion running too deep as he held her, as Ivy clasped him back like she needed him to keep going, to fuel her fight, her energy reserves.
“Please,” she gasped, nuzzling his neck and grasping at his shoulders. “Please, please, fill me up with you. We’ll be careful.”
Her voice broke, and her face crumpled when she looked up at him. He could see all of her fears in those eyes. Fears that it would happen to her, the same thing that had happened with Laura. “You’re not going to be able to do this are you?” she asked.
He couldn’t breathe, his constricted chest felt shackled down. “Ivy.”
“Please don’t pity me.”
Gritting his teeth, he took her hand and set it unerringly over his throbbing cock, a giant motherfucker that was bursting in his pants, bursting with semen for her. He wanted to brand her, to spill himself on every inch of this woman, and shout at both God and the devil that if they wanted to take her, they would need to go through him first.
He felt the way his eyes blazed into her, piercing her until his words penetrated her stubbornness. “Is that pity to you? Do you call that pity?” He grabbed her face harder than he’d planned and kissed her, a kiss without holding back, that let her know in every way possible that as soon as he could, he was going to fuck the living daylights out of her. “I want you, Ivy. I want you more than I’ve wanted anything in my life—I take you in my sleep. I take you any way I can get you, any fucking time I can. When have I not?”
He didn’t understand why the need to take Ivy was even greater since he found out she was sick. Perhaps the way he’d felt for Laura had been different. They were young, their love more innocent. They hadn’t hurt yet. When they’d “loved” each other they had everything going for them. Cade’s family did well, so did hers. They were an adored couple. She was a good girl, and a woman he would be proud to have raise his children.
Physically, Laura may have been too pure for him, too good for the ways he needed to take a woman.
Ivy fed his soul. Her hurt meshed with his. Covered his. Her body’s hunger both stimulated and appeased him. She was his … pair. His mate. The very first woman he’d claimed.
He felt bound to her, and knew that she was bound to him, by something beyond the physical, beyond this plane. This was why she was here. Why he would not let her leave his damn bed, unless she was taking him with her.
He covered her lips with his once more, never having been surer of anything in his life than what he felt for her. She shuddered, leaning against him in sensual invitation, which made him groan. “Let’s ask your doctors how soon, baby. And then, nothing on this earth will keep me from having you.”
