True Colors by Joyce Lamb Page B

I was worried about you.”
    A rush of warmth started in her stomach and spread outward. She couldn’t believe her absolute blind luck that this incredible man had landed in her life. “So . . . we’re a thing, right? A boyfriend-girlfriend thing.”
    A broad grin took over his face. “I’ve been thinking so, yes.”
    “Excellent. Because there’s something I want to do.”
    “Yeah? What’s that?”
    “Have sex.”
    She grasped the hem of her shirt and whipped it over her head.
    “Hey, I wanted to do that,” Logan protested, catching her shirt against his chest as she tossed it at him.
    And then his breath stopped at the sight of all that exposed creamy skin. My God, he thought. She was so . . . so beautiful. And her breasts, tantalizingly cupped by a very Alex-like, no-nonsense white cotton bra, were perfect. Not small, not big. She had the Goldilocks of breasts: just right. And he couldn’t wait to touch and taste.
    When she turned and walked out of the kitchen, he scooted his chair back and followed without thought, his eyes on the sway of her hips and then the deft work of her fingers as she reached behind her to unhook her bra and let it drop to the hallway floor. He stepped over it without hesitation. In the bedroom, she turned to face him, naked from the waist up, and he stopped in midstride, gulping as all the blood in his body surged downward so quickly he felt dizzy.
    But then he spotted the scar, halfway between her collar bone and her right breast, and his lust cooled. Dark pink and slightly raised, it stood out as a testament to both the psychosis of a madman and her indomitable will to live.
    As if she knew the direction of his thoughts, she caught his chin in her strong, warm fingers and urged his gaze away from the mark.
    “Don’t look at that,” she said. “Look at me.”
    He gladly gazed into her rich brown eyes and lost track of himself for a moment. So alive, he thought. So vibrant. And here with him . He didn’t think he deserved her, deserved this, but that didn’t stop him from cupping one of her soft breasts with a suddenly shaking hand.
    She let her head fall back, making a low humming sound deep in her throat as he grazed his thumb over her hardening nipple. While he stroked and swallowed and stared reverently down at the smooth skin of her arched throat, his mouth dry, she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her shorts and wiggled out of them.
    In a matter of seconds, she stood naked in front of him. Grinning and rosy, eyes glittering with intent. “You’re still dressed.”
    He returned her grin and stripped faster than he’d ever stripped in his life.
    She watched with one eyebrow lifted, not the least bit shy as her gaze fixed on the erection he freed from his shorts. He heard her soft intake of breath and grew harder still. This is all for you, baby.
    She stepped forward and grasped his face in her palms, kissed him, openmouthed and wet and deep, and he was lost all over again. So easily. She sucked him in, and he went willingly, drowning in her sweet almond scent, lost, so lost.
    When her fingers curved around his cock, her grip firm and hot, his knees went so weak they almost buckled. Jesus, he wouldn’t last, not if she kept touching him like that. His synapses started to wildly misfire, sending come impulses to every cell in his body. The incredible glide of her palm on him robbed him of the ability to speak, hell, breathe. He needed to tell her to slow down. Oh, Jesus, slow the fuck down . . .
    As if sensing he was too close, she released him and gave his shoulders a light shove, sending him bouncing onto the bed. He didn’t care if she didn’t want to take it slow. They’d do slow later. Much slower, much later.
    She straddled him, trapping his cock between their bodies, rubbing her heat over him so lightly he couldn’t stop himself from rearing up and catching his hands in her hair. While he kissed her, tasting bacon and coffee and Alex, she shifted position,