tormented eyes flicked up to mine and he rolled his lips inward as if to keep them in check.
“Is there somebody else?”
He shook his head and slipped behind me, dragging his fingers across my shoulders as he went. “You’re the only person who’s been in my thoughts.”
Our bodies aligned in the wet darkness and his hot breaths fanned against my hairline. His solid chest was touching my back and his erection throbbed firmly against the crease of my ass. I thought I might break apart right then and there.
He maintained this sensual position as his fingers tracked over the ink on my biceps and shoulders. His hand clutched the nape of my neck and then skimmed across the hollow of my throat. I tried remaining still and quiet because though he refused to kiss me, this was incredibly intimate in a different way.
Burrowing his fingers in my dark waves, his warm breath wafted across the side of my face. It was like an electromagnetic shockwave had pulsed over my skin, zapping the entire surface area along my arms and legs.
“Your hair is lovely,” he murmured and never in my life had I craved somebody more. Just one twist of my head and I could capture his mouth, savor his lips.
But fuck, that would ruin everything.
His hand glided between my shoulder blades, down the center of my back, slowing near the crease of my ass.
He massaged my cheek and then rounded to my thigh as my heart winged in my chest and a moan surged from my lips. As the fingers on his other hand painstakingly traced up and down my spine, my breaths became choppy and broken.
His lips found my ear and when he spoke again, his voice startled me. “True or false: You’ve injured your back.”
Chapter Thirteen
I inhaled harshly through my nose and struggled to move my lips.
“And it has something to do with a motorcycle,” he added when I didn’t say anything.
I thought of that night I hurt my foot and had freaked when he wanted to drive me home. Still I remained stubborn. He wanted me to reveal something personal and I wouldn’t share it with just anybody. At least not somebody who wouldn’t give anything in return.
“How’d you get those scars?” I asked into the darkness.
I could feel his heart battering against my back, matching the rhythm of mine. We were at a standstill. And it was ridiculous. So I decided I had nothing to lose, even if I never saw him again.
“I had a boyfriend who died in a motorcycle accident. It was a rainy night and we should’ve waited before leaving the party. It was a bad decision and he lost his life,” I said, almost in a whisper. “His name was David.”
Not being able to see his eyes helped, though I wondered what I’d find in them. His hands tightened around my torso, his fingers skimming across my waistline as if to soothe me. I hadn’t said those words to anybody in a very long time. I hadn’t even said them to myself.
“I’m sorry.”
I closed my eyes and dropped my head. I felt his mouth, his soft lips, feather across the very center of my back, and it made me shiver.
Then he spoke, allowing me a small grain of truth. One that no doubt weighed an inordinate amount. “I frustrated my stepfather quite a lot. And he had one hell of a way of showing it.”
My chest tightened into a fist and I turned in his arms. “Fuck, that’s . . . goddamn, I’m sorry.”
We stood staring like we had all the time in the world, while rain dotted our faces. Whereas at one time, I’d have sought shelter from the deluge, now I welcomed the water as it melded into my heated skin, slid in rivulets down my chest.
My hands traced over the back of Jude’s shoulders where the canvas of his scars began. I moved in a circle around him, kissing his skin as I went. His biceps, his shoulders, sliding his hair aside to graze the nape of his neck.
Showing him in my own way how I sorry I was.
A whimper escaped his mouth as I kissed the center of his back where most of that tree had already begun to heal.
“Is there somebody else?”
He shook his head and slipped behind me, dragging his fingers across my shoulders as he went. “You’re the only person who’s been in my thoughts.”
Our bodies aligned in the wet darkness and his hot breaths fanned against my hairline. His solid chest was touching my back and his erection throbbed firmly against the crease of my ass. I thought I might break apart right then and there.
He maintained this sensual position as his fingers tracked over the ink on my biceps and shoulders. His hand clutched the nape of my neck and then skimmed across the hollow of my throat. I tried remaining still and quiet because though he refused to kiss me, this was incredibly intimate in a different way.
Burrowing his fingers in my dark waves, his warm breath wafted across the side of my face. It was like an electromagnetic shockwave had pulsed over my skin, zapping the entire surface area along my arms and legs.
“Your hair is lovely,” he murmured and never in my life had I craved somebody more. Just one twist of my head and I could capture his mouth, savor his lips.
But fuck, that would ruin everything.
His hand glided between my shoulder blades, down the center of my back, slowing near the crease of my ass.
He massaged my cheek and then rounded to my thigh as my heart winged in my chest and a moan surged from my lips. As the fingers on his other hand painstakingly traced up and down my spine, my breaths became choppy and broken.
His lips found my ear and when he spoke again, his voice startled me. “True or false: You’ve injured your back.”
Chapter Thirteen
I inhaled harshly through my nose and struggled to move my lips.
“And it has something to do with a motorcycle,” he added when I didn’t say anything.
I thought of that night I hurt my foot and had freaked when he wanted to drive me home. Still I remained stubborn. He wanted me to reveal something personal and I wouldn’t share it with just anybody. At least not somebody who wouldn’t give anything in return.
“How’d you get those scars?” I asked into the darkness.
I could feel his heart battering against my back, matching the rhythm of mine. We were at a standstill. And it was ridiculous. So I decided I had nothing to lose, even if I never saw him again.
“I had a boyfriend who died in a motorcycle accident. It was a rainy night and we should’ve waited before leaving the party. It was a bad decision and he lost his life,” I said, almost in a whisper. “His name was David.”
Not being able to see his eyes helped, though I wondered what I’d find in them. His hands tightened around my torso, his fingers skimming across my waistline as if to soothe me. I hadn’t said those words to anybody in a very long time. I hadn’t even said them to myself.
“I’m sorry.”
I closed my eyes and dropped my head. I felt his mouth, his soft lips, feather across the very center of my back, and it made me shiver.
Then he spoke, allowing me a small grain of truth. One that no doubt weighed an inordinate amount. “I frustrated my stepfather quite a lot. And he had one hell of a way of showing it.”
My chest tightened into a fist and I turned in his arms. “Fuck, that’s . . . goddamn, I’m sorry.”
We stood staring like we had all the time in the world, while rain dotted our faces. Whereas at one time, I’d have sought shelter from the deluge, now I welcomed the water as it melded into my heated skin, slid in rivulets down my chest.
My hands traced over the back of Jude’s shoulders where the canvas of his scars began. I moved in a circle around him, kissing his skin as I went. His biceps, his shoulders, sliding his hair aside to graze the nape of his neck.
Showing him in my own way how I sorry I was.
A whimper escaped his mouth as I kissed the center of his back where most of that tree had already begun to heal.
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