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She backed away and looked him in the eyes.
“I was starting to forget what a tiny thing you are,” he said, his voice huskier than it’d been a moment ago.
“Tiny and scrappy,” she countered.
“Oh, I didn’t forget scrappy,” he said, lust tinting his words. “I still have scars on my back from those sharp nails of yours.”
Her lips parted. She remembered the night she’d raked her nails down his skin. In fairness, she’d been so far gone to him and the passion that she hadn’t realized. Also in her defense, he’d taken her like a wild man. On a secluded deck at 2:00 a.m., under the moonlight. She’d held on to him like her life had depended on it and dug her claws into his shoulders while the ship quietly plowed through the ocean in the dead of night.
“I d
on’t remember you complaining,” she said, trying to gain some ground.
He bent over her just enough to have his shadow engulf her. The yellow light haloed around him.
“And you never will,” he said, shifting even closer toward her. “Because that was one of the best nights of my life.” Closer. “I think about that moment every day. One of my favorite go-to memories.”
She raised a brow, trying to keep her cool, but she wanted him closer. Just for a moment. Wanted to hear his words. His voice. Feel his heat. She wouldn’t admit she missed him. She wouldn’t even admit she wanted him. Even though every cell in her body was calling her a liar.
“Go-to memories?” she asked.
He nodded. “I’ve needed something to think about these past months to get me through this dry spell.”
She eyes widened. “You . . . you haven’t been with anyone since me?”
He frowned like she was crazy. “Of course not. We’re married. Why, have you?”
She folded her lips. No, she hadn’t. And she had thought of him. A lot. During that same dry spell he’d had.
“That’s none of your business,” she said.
He smiled. “So that’s a no.”
“How could you know that?”
“Because I know you, Hannah. Like it or not, I do know you. And I can tell you’re faking calm right now. But you’ve missed me. So much that you haven’t been with anyone else.”
Her ribs crackled around her thundering heart. How in the hell could he guess that? No, not guess, know that. The bastard was so confident in his words that it made her whole body buzz like her skin was a neon sign flashing every secret and thought she had. She refused to give in, though.
“I admit nothing.”
His grin widened, and he took another step until his chest was an inch from her mouth. “All right, then I’ll admit everything,” he said. “Starting with how those moans of yours are burned into my memory and every time I’ve come over the past six months, I hear them replay in my mind.”
Her breath stalled.
“You thought of me?” she whispered. Knowing it was a dumb question, that it was opening the door for her to plant her mouth on him.
“Every time, baby. Only you.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and whispered, “I thought about fucking you from behind in front of the full-length mirror in your cabin. I thought about how all your sexy tattoos move and sway around your hips when you ride me.” He trailed his fingers along her hips, as if outlining the vines and flowers she had etched there. “I thought about those little claws of yours and you screaming my name.”
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t swallow. She could only feel him. Smell him. See him. He was invading every sense and bit of space she had. Just like last time. Just like that time they’d first met—and the two weeks that followed. There was something about Grant Laythem that got to her. A kind of power that went straight to her soul.
“Must have been a lot of lonely nights,” she said, trying for any kind of cool and cursing her body for being so damn hot.
“And I plan to make up for every single one,” he said. Leaning in, his mouth brushed hers. “Admit it, baby. You’ve thought of me.” He gently grabbed her hand and brought her fingers between their lips and gently kissed her thumb. Then her middle finger. Then he bit her ring finger. “Tell me you’ve thought of me while touching yourself with these pretty hands.”
She swallowed hard and thought back to every stupid time she’d replayed those two weeks in her mind. But she couldn’t admit it. She also couldn’t deny it.
“I think a lot of things,” she whispered. Her resolve fading. It was hard to think with him touching her. “But I can’t recall with you so close.”
