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“How do you expect me to find entertainment tomorrow?”
“I have no doubt you can keep yourself entertained, it’s the trouble you’ll find in the process that you should worry about.”
I shift the shopping bags to get at my keys. Probably the most important thing I’d accomplished for the night was picking up a few things for Kenzie. “We do still have some whiskey left over from yesterday.”
She opens her mouth, then her expression relaxes. “I’m not really in the mood for whiskey, but if that’s your way of inviting me over to pick up where we left off, I could properly thank you for saving me, and we could make the most of your last night on the island.”
A beautiful shade of pink tints her cheeks as she tucks her hair back.
Shoving the door open, I invite her inside with a nod. I can’t believe I’m entertaining this.
Oh, I’m not just entertaining this.
I haven’t even considered letting someone close to me since the incident. Not with my shoulder looking like something from a nightmare and feeling like a nightmare a good portion of the time.
But she’s already seen it, unflinching and undeterred by the scars or my cranky attitude regarding it. Maybe she can handle the surface scars, but what about the ones that cut deeper every day?
Libby deposits her things on the counter near the door, twisting her hair, as she tends to do, and pulling it over her shoulder.
She’s absolutely stunning in every way, and I’m going to regret leaving tomorrow.
Before I can overthink this, I take her face between my palms and press my lips to hers, tasting the strawberry lip gloss she’d put on after dinner. When I drop my head to kiss her neck, her back straightens as a tiny rush of air slips through her lips.
My heart races, but all I feel is a warm calm pulsing through my veins, most of which is heading straight for my cock.
Libby’s hands explore my sides, then my back. When she leans forward, her stomach presses against my bound erection.
“Shit,” I mutter, breaking away from her. I’m not exactly prepared for this—not in many ways but one in particular. “I don’t have protection.”
Libby brushes me off, grabbing her purse and pulling out a zippered pouch. “Don’t be judgy. I stay prepared.”
Before she can unzip it, I pin her to the counter, capturing her lips, lifting her hips against me. She wraps her legs around me, and I hear the buzz of a zipper behind my head as I carry her toward the bedroom. Then a dull thwack when she tosses the pouch on the floor behind me.
Every touch of her lips is like another drop of water into a puddle about to overflow. Seconds away from the breaking point where the surface tension is no longer enough to hold it back.
Her breath sends another trail of tingles down my spine.
When I set her on her feet next to the bed, she tosses a couple of condoms near the pillow and yanks her shirt over her head.
My eyes rake over the smooth curves of her chest. The pale skin standing out against the purple lace of her bra.
She reaches for the hem of my shirt, sliding her hands underneath to release my belt and the button on my jeans. While her fingers work, her head tilts to the side and a seductive smile curls her lips.
What the hell am I thinking?
I inhale the flowery scents that waft off her hair and skin.
I’m alive.
And for the first time in recent memory, I feel it. I want to catalogue every detail.
Libby returns her attention to her own clothes, undoing her shorts, and wiggling her hips as she slides out of them, then across the bed.
Fuck. I bite my lip, and quickly shed my shirt, so I don’t have time to think about it. Then I discard my pants and crawl over her, kissing a line up her stomach as I move. When I reach her breasts, she leans up on her elbows, giving me room to undo the clasp. I toss the material over the foot of the bed, giving careful attention to each breast with my lips and tongue before I continue up her neck and claim her lips again.
Pulsating heat pools at the base of my spine. Libby’s fingers brush over my cheek, and down my neck. When I sit back to adjust my position between her legs, her hands come to rest on my shoulders. I pause, knowing she can feel the rough texture of the scars under her fingers, but her soft eyes remain trained on my face.
Her lips curl, and she runs her tongue over them, wiggling her hips and nudging my calf with her toes.
