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“you really think I’m mouthy?”
He tugged on a wet strand of hair. “Hell, yes.”
“Then maybe I should do something to keep myself occupied.”
He had no clue until she knelt in front of him with a ballerina’s grace that took his breath away. Sawyer reached out to stop her—the night was not about him—but the moment her lips opened and slipped over his pulsing length, he was a goner. He swore he’d only allow her to experiment until she felt comfortable, knowing Julietta was unsure of her skills and needed to learn to trust her instincts. The lesson turned on him in a heartbeat. With long, deft strokes, she sucked and licked with a heady enthusiasm and purity that left him helpless to fight. Using her hands to fist his dick and pump up and down, she continued her ministra-tions until he exploded, the orgasm diving deep and radiat-ing through every pore in his skin.
When the room stopped spinning, the little minx rose to her feet. Tossed him a purely feminine, purely satisfied grin.
And walked out of the shower, her naked bu**ocks winking at him in sheer mockery.
oh, hell, he was in trouble.
Big trouble.
He shook his head, shut off the water, and followed her out.
…
Who would’ve thought the ice queen had turned into raging Nympho?
Julietta wrapped the terry robe around her. Her muscles were limp noodles and an inner peace radiated from within. Was this what great sex did to a woman? Turned her brain to mush and plastered a stupid smile on her face?
This was dangerous in real life. No wonder women acted like fools under a man’s spell. Sawyer only had to crook his finger and she fell to her knees. Happily.
oddly, her reaction didn’t bother her as much as before.
Maybe she was so sexed out no worries were able to pen-etrate any brain cells. Tomorrow she’d probably wake up in a full-fledged panic attack. Maybe.
Maybe not.
Julietta watched him stalk out of the shower. He wore a relaxed expression and finally owned a limp dick. Not for long, she bet. The man was a sexual dynamo, and for a little while, he belonged only to her.
The possessive thought threw her off for a moment, but she refused to analyze it. Sawyer grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his waist, and turned.
She gasped.
His back and upper bu**ocks were a mass of crisscrossed scars, some faded, some red and angry. There seemed to be no logic to the marks. Perfectly formed circles marred his biceps. He froze in place, as if he had forgotten his original plan to hide his nakedness from her. Julietta flicked back to the evening. He had kept his shirt on until the last moment on the bed. And he never presented his rear to her—only his front.
Her throat tightened. Why did this seem different from the scar on his face? As if he didn’t care who saw that public mark. A tattoo that gave him flavor and a bad-boy de-meanor. But these hidden scars were so much more. She sensed these were the ones he hid from the world, a secret, deeper pain no one suspected. Pain he refused to share or explain.
The rational woman inside knew the proper response.
Be cool. Ignore the marks, pretend she didn’t care, and move on. A woman engaged in a one-night stand obeyed the rules—no attachments or emotion or sharing painful pasts.
Just pleasure, orgasms, alcohol, and a hasty retreat at dawn.
She struggled to be that woman, but silly tears threat-ened to fall. The idea of the strong man before her being helpless and hurt by nameless people tore her soul. She moved toward him and laid her hands gently on his back.
Sawyer flinched. With light strokes, she caressed and traced every scar over the broad expanse of flesh. He never moved.
Didn’t speak. Finally, she broke the silence.
“I’m sorry someone hurt you.” Julietta made sure no pity leaked into her voice. No one could possibly pity a man who exhibited such strength and character and success.
Perhaps the scars drove him to be better. She refused to cluck over him and ask a million questions, but she would never pretend she didn’t see what someone or many had done to him. “I’m glad you won.”
He bent his head. Sucked in a ragged breath. And spoke.
“I never talk about my past, Julietta. I lived in it far too long and fought too hard to leave it behind. He was evil, and I was stuck with him for too many years. He tried to beat everything out of me, but I refused to give him that final satisfaction.” His voice took on the demons of a past she couldn’t even imagine. “I’ve done—things. I won’t apologize for them either. I understand if you can’t handle that right now or choose to leave. I’ll release you from the contract.”
She gazed at the back of the man who had commanded her orgasms and made her feel like a woman for the first time in her life. Throughout the hours, he’d never taken but had freely given and pushed her boundaries. He made her feel safe. yet he actually believed she was so fragile she’d run at the sight of a few scars or his admission he’d made some bad choices?
Julietta pressed her lips to his back. He tensed under-neath the caress, but she kissed each scar with a gentle humbleness she ached to show. “Che idiota! How dare you insult me with such a comment? Whatever things you had to do you did to survive. Do you really think so little of me to believe I’d run from a few physical scars after the greatest sex of my life?”
He turned and faced her. Gaze wary, he studied her expression. She cursed the telltale dampness on her cheeks and realized she’d never be good at this stuff.
Sawyer reached out and ran his thumb over her face.
“Are you crying?”
His stunned tone lit her temper. “I’m not crying for the man you are,” she bit out. “I’m crying for the boy who never had anyone to care.” Julietta let her anger dry up her tears.
“I hope he is dead. I hope whoever put his hands on you died in a horrible, painful way.”
A raw longing burned from amber eyes. His fingers traced the curve of her cheek as if she was a fairy about to disappear into the mist. Slowly, he pulled back, and Julietta caught the tremor in his hand. He opened his mouth, but before the words left his lips, Sawyer bit them back. His lower lip quirked in that sexy half smile that tripped her heart. “Calling me an idiot again, huh?”
She sniffed. “That’s how you’re acting.”
He chuckled. “Such violence tucked beneath polite civility. remind me never get on your bad side, baby.”
“I have no civility when someone hurts one of my own.”
