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Logan wiped his hand down the middle of his chest and broke the seal on the cap of the beer. He wasn’t sure how that was going to happen, but he wanted to believe it bad enough to nod his head. After taking a long drink, he raised the bottle to him. “Will do.” He finished off the rest and set it on the tailgate. “Pray for me, brother.”
Richard laughed. “You love her too much to need my prayers, but you got ‘em if you want ‘em.”
“Oh, I need them.” He gave him a crooked smile then started his hike back up to her.
The closer he got to her, the more determined he became. Inky dark hair stormed around her face, sticking to her lips no matter how many times she brushed it away.
When he got in front of her, she worried her lower lip at the corner with her teeth. Instead of giving her a moment to think, to argue, to not trust him, he kissed her.
Hard.
Relentlessly.
He palmed her lower back and dragged her into his hard thighs and rapidly hardening cock. She was so startled that she didn’t have any choice but to react and that’s what he needed. Her brain shut off, the guilt behind another emotion for once.
This.
Them.
Always them.
Would always be them.
He swept his tongue into her mouth and drew her out with all the skill he possessed. Knowing her better than he knew himself, he hit every pleasure zone he knew in her mouth, with the swipe of his thumb at the dip of her spine, the soft undulation of his hips to hers.
In this, he knew her best. Even with weeks of time lost, and judgment clashing with guilt, he knew how to show her where they belonged.
Together.
They would be nothing without each other.
He ripped his mouth away from hers. “That’s not obsession. That’s perfection. You were made for me, same as I was made for you. We just had to trip over a lot of other people to find each other, that’s all. And nothing you can say is ever going to make me think otherwise.”
Her huge topaz eyes shimmered.
“We may have made mistakes in getting here, and God knows I’m no prize. But I’m yours. And you’re mine. And if you ever bastardize the way I feel by mixing it up with Aimee Collen’s warped, psychotic version of love again—”
“You’ll what?” she whispered.
“I’ll show you again and again how wrong you are.” He lifted her hand and placed it against his chest and covered it with his. “This can’t be wrong. It’s the only thing we’ve got now.”
She tried to pull her hand away and he held fast.
“Iz, please.”
He looked down at her panicked face, and let her go. She didn’t step back. Instead, she pressed her cheek to his chest, but she tucked her hand away into her huge pockets.
He took her hand out of her pocket and brought her wrist up to his mouth. She tried to pull away, but he brushed his lips up her fragile skin that was healing every day. He ran his lips down the wavy pattern of skin that had knit itself together after the ravaged flesh had peeled away.
Like a sunburn that had taken so much more of her away.
But in the end she was left with a new skin. And he was simply thankful that she hadn’t required skin grafts and oxygen tents. All the things he’d researched on his phone through the long, lonely nights in the hospital. Every small miracle that had let him breathe around the worry.
She was changed, but she was still beautiful. And the scars were who she was. A little worse for the wear, but healing every day. He’d take every scar, every bruise and broken bone if he could.
But since he couldn’t, he let her know with his mouth and his steady gaze that he wasn’t disgusted in any way. “I love you, Izzy. And this new skin.” He brushed his beard over the parts of her that were without any scars, his lips over the more delicate skin and breathed in her dark jasmine scent. “Let me show you how much I love you.”
She brushed her fingertips along his cheek, her thumb drifted along his lower lip. Her eyes feasted on his mouth. The hunger was as powerful as the first time he’d touched her and somehow even more intense.
