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Trenton’s hands grabbed hers, squeezing gently. “He’s not right, Celia.” Malcolm’s words from the other day suddenly made sense, not to mention Celia’s own conflicted expression before she’d mentioned sex and Trenton had lost his control.
Her ex-fiancé had called her crazy back in the supermarket. A crazy stalker. If she had told him what she was telling Trenton now, that had likely made it all the worse. “You’re so strong,” Trenton told her. The whole week, while he’d been obsessing over not having sex with her, she’d likely been coping with the memories the word ‘crazy’ had evoked. And he’d had no idea of her pain.
She shook her head just as she had done on the porch the very first night. “I’m a mess.”
“Not at all.” He gave in, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her forward to kiss her again. Their lips sliding over each other felt right. At first, it remained gentle, soothing. He wanted to let her know she wasn’t alone. That she was safe.
Then she let out a small sound in her throat, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. He deepened the kiss, his tongue gliding against hers once, twice, before he lost count.
He opened his eyes, needing to see her, to convince himself she was there and whole. Hers were open as well, the dark of them drawing him in. There was a glimmer there, as if she needed to cry. He started to pull back, but she made a hum of protest, her eyes closing as she pressed tight against him.
Trenton lost track of time as he lost himself in her. What should have been just a kiss was so much more than that. His mind sent out a slither of worry, but then she sucked on his tongue as she’d done before and every thought besides having her again slid out of his head.
She was the one to part her lips from his. “Trenton, I want you.”
The words made him ache. Trenton stood, picking her up and carrying her to his bed. He was kissing her again even as his body came down over hers, and their tongues tangled. Both of them fumbled with each other’s clothes, unable to let go long enough to take them off. It was slow going, but there was no rush.
When she was naked, he ended the kiss, pulling back enough to study her skin. In the afternoon light, she held a glow, smooth and unblemished. He ran his hands down her, mapping every contour, every delicate inch. He could find no evidence of the violence she had once endured.
“Do you truly have no scars from it?” he asked.
She tensed under his hands, but that eased as he continued his soothing strokes, bending his head for his lips to remap the same path. The inside of her elbow was sensitive to his kiss, and he sucked there, making her breathing come faster.
“Trenton…” He loved the way she said his name, as if unaware she was saying it.
He passed over her chest, making his way down her other arm, pausing to give her inner elbow on that side the same treatment. Her hips rose to press against him, so he used his tongue to soothe her. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“Tell—” She swallowed before trying again. “Tell you what?”
Trenton was happy that she hadn’t purposefully ignored the question. He rewarded her with another kiss, this one short and hard. “I asked if you have any scars.”
Her hand rose to her forehead, where a darker spot he hadn’t noticed hid behind her bangs. “Here.”
He leaned up, his lips kissing it gently. She shivered beneath him.
“And mostly on my back,” she said, biting her lip.
He sat up, looking down at her. She was so beautiful. “Can I see them?”
Celia hesitated, but then rolled away from him and onto her stomach.
Multiple lines crisscrossed her shoulders and farther down her back. Possibly a dozen. Trenton bent, his lips brushing over her shoulder first. He heard her suck in a breath with his first kiss. By the time he reached a point low on her side, she was trembling.
“Trenton, please.”
He rolled her back over, lowering his weight on top of her again as he captured her mouth. She moaned as his chest brushed against her nipples, and what hadn’t been a rush became more urgent for them both. He wanted to be even more connected.
Reaching down between them, he found her slick to the touch. Unable to help himself, he eased his finger inside, then pulled out again, running the wet tip over her clit. He watched each sweet scrunch of her nose, each wrinkle of her brow, as he touched her. When she tensed against him, her mouth falling open, he captured her shout, loving the way she shuddered through her orgasm.
He ached to have her and positioned himself against her entrance. He waited for her eyes to open, those eyes that he had always been drawn to. When they did, she reached up, caressing the side of his face. “Trenton…”
He slid within her, a peace coming over him when he finally buried himself deep.
Her arms wrapped tight around him as he began to move. There wasn’t a race to completion this time. Trenton didn’t want it to end. He kept his rhythm steady, his legs tangling with hers.
Her brow furrowed before her head fell back. Those dark eyes of hers shimmered with emotion as they locked on his. Her hips found his rhythm and her body shuddered with each stroke. “Trenton?” she asked, a soft sound following, the beginning of a moan. “This feels… different.”
“Bad?” he asked, only managing the one word as he lengthened his strokes, starting to speed up.
