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Almost.
“I’m going to take off your top now, okay?”
It was sweet, the way he asked first before doing it, like he could read my mind. He knew there was no way in the world I was going to tell him no, but he still waited for me to tell him yes before actually going through with it.
“Okay,” I said.
He reached the hem, lifting the shirt up and over my head before tossing it to the side. He sucked in a breath, and I instantly dreaded what that sound meant, thinking he didn’t like what he saw.
“No, Sutton,” he said, leaning down to kiss my exposed stomach, his lips touching the place where my scars first started. Or maybe it was where they ended. “You’re so damn beautiful. And I won’t pretend that the scars aren’t there. But I also won’t pretend like they’re all I see when I look at you,” he explained.
My hands moved through his hair as he continued to run his tongue around the puckered flesh, pressing kisses to all the parts I’d once believed were too disfigured to love.
“Thank you.”
He lifted his head to make eye contact, the question written all over his face.
“For talking about them. For not acting like they don’t exist.”
I’d never known that I needed that—for them to be acknowledged instead of ignored. For him to touch them, kiss them, and not be repulsed by them.
He crawled back up my body. He kissed my mouth and then worked his way lower. His lips grazed my neck, my collarbone, and once he unclasped my bra and threw it off, he gave each breast equal attention. My back arched in response to his tongue playing with my nipple as his fingers worked their way lower, unfastening my jeans and attempting to get them off. I lifted my hips, helping him without saying a word as he tugged them off like his life depended on it.
Before I knew it, I was lying there, completely exposed in only a thong. “I’m basically naked, and you’re still fully clothed.”
He looked down at his body, stopped touching me, and said, “You’re right,” before leaning back and pushing off the bed.
I watched him stand, reach for his shirt, and unbutton it one at a time before dropping it to the floor. It was the first time I’d seen him with no shirt on in real life.
“This is much better than the pictures Kayla taped up in the hallway,” I said, and he shot me an inquisitive look.
“There were pictures?” he asked as he started working on his slacks, slow and torturous, as if he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Lots of pictures. But like I said, this is better.” I waved an arm up and down the length of his gorgeous, sculpted body.
His hardness stood out from his boxers, and I couldn’t stop staring at it.
“Are you looking at my junk?” he said, and the term made me giggle.
“Just remembering how you almost burned it off, is all,” I said, and he grinned before hopping back on the bed, straddling my body.
“I’m going to make you very happy that I didn’t.” He pulled down my panties with his teeth before pulling his boxers off as well.
“I can see that,” I commented as I reached down with my hand and held it, slowly stroking up and down.
“Sutton, you have to stop.” His voice sounded strained.
“Only if you put that perfect penis inside me,” I demanded as I continued stroking. “That’s the only way to stop me.”
“Sutton,” he groaned, “I didn’t bring a condom. I came from the office. I didn’t plan on this.”
“I have one.” I maneuvered underneath the weight of his body, reached for the nightstand, and slid it open, fiddling around inside. “Ha! Here!”
“I don’t want to know why you have a nightstand full of condoms, do I?” He took the square package out of my hand and ripped the corner open with his teeth.
“I’m a doctor,” I said. “Safety first.”
“Uh-huh.” He pulled it from the wrapper and positioned it at the tip before rolling it down the length.
