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Still not meeting my gaze, she reaches out to undo the first button on my black shirt. I thank God in that moment that I didn’t wear a tee instead. This is going to be all kinds of sexy as I watch her do this.
Her fingers tremble as she undoes another one and another, being careful not to touch my skin. When she reaches the final button, she spreads the shirt open and hisses at the big black bruise already formed from a bullet being slammed into the vest.
“Shit,” she murmurs. “Is it okay if I touch you? To make sure your ribs aren’t broken?”
“Oh, you don’t need to ask my consent, sweetheart, in fact, I prefer it.”
Isla’s eyes narrow. “That’s not very twenty-twenty-three of you.”
I snicker. “Don’t worry about me. But I will ask for your consent before I ram my cock into your hot, wet pussy and beg you to scream my name as I fuck you so hard you will weep for mercy.”
“Ah,” she gasps softly, her mouth dropping open. “Forward, aren’t you?” The tremor in her tone makes me smile. She is innocent when it comes to deep passion, and that is something that I’m very interested in teaching her more about. She surprises me, though. She is bold, a straight talker and doesn’t take much crap, not even from us. Yet, this slightly innocent side to her is gorgeous, but weirdly, it makes me fiercely protective of her.
When her fingers prod my side, and I hiss at the coolness of her touch, she snatches her hand back. “Sorry.”
“Cold hands.”
Her eyes shoot up to mine, and she smiles. “In that case…” She splays both of her hands across my abs, and I yelp with a laugh.
“Wicked woman,” I smirk. “But keep your hands right there.”
She grins and moves them. She doesn’t like being told what to do, which I get, but it is something I want to push.
Licking her lips as she goes back to work, I know she is admiring my six-pack. Her fingers keep brushing lightly over the ridges that are carved into my flesh. Butterfly touches that would feel amazing on my cock, if only she would lower her hand a bit.
“I don’t think your ribs are cracked. You’re lucky.”
“Can I get even luckier?”
She looks at me with confusion until my meaning sinks in. “No. You are still the arsehole who held a gun to me.”
“Not forgiven yet, then?”
“No.”
“But there’s hope?”
“Depends on what you do next, Sebastian.”
Wondering what she means by that, I sit forward and take her hand. “I am sorry, Isla. I have a way of dealing with things, and you were unlucky enough to be there at the wrong time.”
“That doesn’t make it any better. You would still have done it if it had been me or someone else.”
“True, but know I will never scare you again or hurt you.”
“How can I be sure of that?”
“My word is my honour, but you don’t know that yet. I hope one day you will, but in the meantime, if we survive this shitshow, I’ll prove it to you.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to prove yourself to me? What do you care what I think?”
Sitting back with a snort of amusement, I give her an honest answer. “Good question, Isla. But I feel something when I look at you and touch you. It’s rare, and it’s something I want to explore. If you will let me.”
“You’re going to have to do better than that.”
