AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The only sound I could hear was Dax’s breathing getting shallower and almost furious. Maybe burn survivors’ reactions to other peoples’ injuries differed. While I saw nothing but beauty in Dax’s scars, maybe he saw a reminder of the fear he felt when whatever happened to him happened.
“Turn your back to me,” he said, his tone soft but his voice rough.
I did and braced myself for the sharp intake of breath and sudden zip closing up my dress. I squeezed my eyes closed in anticipation.
Nothing happened.
I slowly opened my eyes and ears.
His breathing slowed like silk, and his fingers touched the top of my spine where there was a patch of undamaged, virgin skin. He gently stroked downwards, feeling every lump and bump that I’d tried to hide over the years. It was one thing to tell another person their scars were beautiful. It was a whole other thing to believe the same of your own. I pressed my fingertips to the glass and held my breath as his fingers drew pictures down the length of my spine. It felt as though he was writing something, but ever since my skin had taken on different crevices and terrains, I wasn’t sure of what I felt anymore.
I heard a low rumble from his lips. “So pretty,” he said, in a soft murmur.
Something hardened in me. He was crazy. A mad man. He’d locked me in a damn tower. I shouldn’t be letting anything hesaid go to my head. But there was no denying that the touch of his fingers set my skin ablaze. I felt whole again. No, not just whole. Renewed. My scars were a part of me, and they made me stronger, just like I said Dax’s scars made him.
My head spun with the realisation and at the same time, Dax reached up and gently pushed the dress over my shoulders. With nothing to anchor it at the waist, it fell to the floor, exposing all of me. With my back still turned, all I could do was listen. Dax was borderline hyperventilating, and if I stopped to self-analyse, I was too.
“Rose…”
That one whispered word called to the centre of my soul like a prayer and I suddenly yearned for him to see all of me. Every inch.
I turned fully to face him just as he swallowed loudly and dropped his jaw. His good eye was wide and glistening; his damaged one dimmer but still alive with curiosity. They both raked over me, slowly, starting at the the dip of my collarbone, warming it under his gaze. He then moved down over the rounds of my rose-pink lace-covered breasts, widening at the hardened nipples beneath. Greedily, they lowered, caressing the skin across my stomach, to the apex of my thighs. My whole being heated up from the zenith of my core, radiating through my flesh and bones to the surface, making my skin prickle. He didn’t let up, gliding his gaze down over my hips and thighs, cresting my knees and calves, until it landed on the slender curve of my ankles.
By the time Dax’s eyes had roamed my entire body, I was a pulsating mess, hoping to God my pants were at least a little absorbent. No one had ever worshipped me with their eyes before, and that’s exactly what it felt like.
My head spun with the absence of any knowledge of what was going on, what he was about to do. The confusion onlydeepening when he leaned down and wrapped a hand around my right ankle. I jumped a little, even though his touch was soft. The contact was unexpected, but no less needed. He bent his whole body forward, as though he was going to bite into my skin, but he stopped, his nose a millimetre from the hairs of my shin. What happened next challenged every idea I’d ever formed about intimacy.
Even more slowly than he’d guided his gaze, Dax lifted his head up to my knee. The only contact was between the hairs standing on end everywhere on my leg and those lining his top lip. But the impact was powerful. Even the smallest sensation set a part of my body on fire. Then I realised that, as he moved, he inhaled deeply.
My eyes almost popped out of my head. Was he…smellingme?
A satisfied moan meandered from his lips and my heart thumped. His hand stroked upwards and he continued his exploration of my scent along the base of the thigh. My whole body tensed the closer he got to the top of my legs, then he stopped.
My head almost exploded with questions.What do I smell like? Do I smell bad? Why has he stopped? What have I done wrong?
He opened his mouth and hot breath fanned across my sex.
“Breathe, Rose.”
I released a complete lungful of oxygen from my chest, then panted at the realisation I’d been holding it in for what felt like a year.
I forced my breathing to slow, trying to acclimatise to the fact Dax Thorn was kneeling before me with his mouth less than an inch from my vagina. While he stared at my privates, I glanced down at his head. Despite the obvious scarring across his crown, his hair was full, jet black and obviously tamed by some probablyextortionately expensive barber. I had a sudden urge to run my fingers through it, but through the insane lust and wanting came a small dart of fear. All I really knew about this man was that he was capable of locking me up. He jolted when I touched his scar with permission – what would he do if I touched the top of his head without it? I didn’t want to find out.
He remained at my core, taking deep meditative breaths. With each one, I softened, to the point I thought I was going to melt into a puddle at his knees. Thankfully, he continued his perusal of my sweat-coated skin, rising to his feet as he reached my breasts. He bent his head to inhale the tops of my shoulders, my neck, my jaw and finally the soft skin covering my temple. I throbbed painfully beneath his presence.
Then he moved his mouth an inch to the shell of my ear, the heat from his lips almost blistering the skin.
My heart stopped when he opened his mouth.
“You smell just like my dreams.”
He lingered for several seconds and could probably hear my rabid heart clattering around, out of rhythm.
My chest rose and fell with laboured breaths and I continued to stare dead ahead. I wasn’t cut out for this. I was a virgin. I had no idea what I was doing. Or, more to the point, whathewas doing. It was clear Dax Thorn was experienced, because who else could turn a woman on to the point of pain simply by smelling her? I was simply no match for him. I was wet between my thighs. Completely wet. And he was so utterly in control of himself. Shame and humiliation washed over me slowly, relishing in my discomfort.
My rambling inner dialogue was instantly halted when two large, warm hands clasped each side of my face and his body pressed against mine. His lips were still hovering at the side of my face, but when they pressed hot against my skin, I gasped, goosebumps erupting all over my skin. With each inhale, mybreasts pressed into his chest, but his lips didn’t move. As awareness of my body returned in pieces, I also became aware of a pressure against my pelvic bone.
Was that…? Fuck.
