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“Keep your eyes on me,” he instructed as his finger trailed up my arm and over my shoulder and collarbone again. “It’s just us here. Well, us and Cosette.”
I chuckled; he gave me another kiss. When it ended, I opened my eyes again and kept them fixed on him as his fingers continued their exploration. He was right. This did help. It forced me to remember that I was with someone I loved and trusted, not someone who wanted to hurt me.
Until his hand skimmed over my breast and gently palmed it, and I was pulled back into the past again.
“No, don’t,” I said, barely recognizing the shaky voice as my own.
His hand was gone in an instant, and the fear was soothed with a kiss.
“Do you need to stop, baby?” he asked, looking right into my eyes as he stroked my cheek with his thumb.
I shook my head. “No, I’m okay. You can touch me there. Just not with your whole hand.”
He kissed me again. “Okay. Can I kiss you there?”
I thought for a second before answering. Tried to figure out if I could handle it.
But, I realized, the worst thing that could possibly happen was that I had to tell him to stop. I knew he would, no questions asked. He’d stopped immediately just now when I’d told him to.
I nodded again.
“Keep your eyes on me, gorgeous,” he whispered, giving me a feather-light kiss.
His nose ran along my jawline, and then his teeth grazed my earlobe. I gasped at how good it felt. I wasn’t expecting that.
“Bellísima,” he whispered right into my ear. “Perfecta.”Beautiful. Perfect.
Someone had been paying attention in Spanish, and man, was it working for him.
He kissed me again, and I slid his shirt up his back, wanting it gone too. I wanted to feel his skin against mine. When I was assaulted, the guys hadn’t ever taken any of their clothes off except for pulling their pants down just enough that they could have their way with me. I needed to remind myself that Ian was different.
Without further instruction, he pulled it off with one hand and threw it behind him.
“Better?” he chuckled with another kiss.
“Much,” I said, smiling as I admired his perfectly-toned muscles, evidence of the countless hours of training he’d put in so he could excel at his sport.
I kissed him again, moaning at the feeling of skin on skin as he gathered me in his arms.
Yes. This. This was what I needed. Intimacy. Closeness. Connection.Thishelped me remember that I was with someone who cared about me.
He pulled me close, splaying his hand out against my back as our lips and tongues dipped and swirled around each other, making a few of the butterflies in my stomach disappear. When I finally stopped because I needed air, he gently pushed me back onto the pillows and trailed his fingers up and down my arm. I’d interrupted his exploration, and he wanted to get back to it.
His lips moved to my jawline, trailing kisses all the way down my neck and collarbone. And then he lifted his head and looked at my chest. Just the tips of his fingers lightly brushed over my breasts, tracing a line above my bra.
My breathing sped up again, but it wasn’t enough to make me tell him to stop. Instead, I decided to push through it. Again. Because this wasn’t trauma. It was fear of the unknown. Nervousness at letting him see even more of my marred body.
Taking a deep breath and swallowing my nerves, I sat up just enough that I could unhook my bra and slide it off. He sprang up next to me, and my bravery earned me a kiss that made me dizzy.
“You’re so damn gorgeous, Ky,” he murmured. “I love you.”
“I love you,” I echoed, my voice thick with the thousand emotions that were warring in my brain right now.
“Can I touch you there?” he asked. “Or kiss you there?”
“I already said yes.”
He shook his head. “That was before you took your bra off.”
