Something in his expression shifted, the uncertainty giving way to cautious hope. He released my hands, allowing me to finish opening his shirt. I pushed the fabric aside, exposing his chest and abdomen fully to my gaze.
Julian watched me, tension evident in the rigid set of his shoulders, in the careful neutrality he was trying to maintain in his expression. He was waiting for disgust, for pity, for any sign that I found his scarred body less desirable.
Instead, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to the longest scar, a jagged line that curved around his ribs. His skin was warm beneath my mouth, the texture of the scar different but no less appealing than the unmarked areas.
Julian's breath hitched audibly, his hands moving to my shoulders as if to steady himself. I continued my exploration, mapping each scar with gentle kisses, working my way across his chest and down to his abdomen.
"Connor," he breathed my name like a prayer, his fingers tightening on my shoulders.
I looked up, meeting his gaze as my hands moved to the fastenings of his pants. "May I?"
He nodded, a jerky movement that betrayed his nervousness despite his desire. I unfastened his pants with the same care I'd shown his shirt, easing the fabric down his legs with his help. His boxers followed, leaving him exposed and vulnerable before me.
More scars marked his legs, telling the story of surgeries and trauma. I treated them with the same reverence I'd shown theothers, acknowledging each without lingering long enough to make him uncomfortable.
When I finished, I rose to shed my own remaining clothes, feeling Julian's eyes on me as I stripped down to nothing. Unlike in the hotel room, where drugs had lowered my inhibitions, I was fully aware now, fully present in this moment of mutual vulnerability.
I approached the bed, helping Julian transfer from his chair with practiced movements that told me this was far from his first time, though perhaps the first in a long while. He arranged himself against the pillows and I followed, straddling his hips as I had with his wheelchair.
"Let me," I whispered against his lips as I positioned myself above him.
Julian's eyes widened in surprise as his body responded eagerly to my touch, his arousal evident against my thigh. "Connor," he gasped, his hands gripping my waist. "This shouldn't be possible."
I smiled against his lips, rocking my hips slightly. "And yet, here we are."
Julian's face was a study in wonder as he watched me above him, his hands gripping my hips like he was afraid I might disappear if he let go.
"I thought this part of me was dead," he confessed, the words raw and vulnerable in a way I never expected from a man who commanded boardrooms with a glance. His voice caught on the last word, thick with emotion that made my chest ache.
I paused, balancing above him, and couldn't help the smile that curved my lips. "Clearly, reports of your demise were greatly exaggerated," I quipped, though the lightness in my tone did nothing to disguise the hunger in my eyes.
Julian let out a sound that was half laugh, half groan. "Trust you to quote Mark Twain at a moment like this."
"What can I say? I'm an educated man," I teased, then lowered myself slowly, taking him inside me with deliberate care.
The sensation was exquisite—a delicious stretch and fullness that drew a gasp from my throat. Julian's eyes widened, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to leave marks. The slight edge of pain only heightened the pleasure.
"God," he breathed, his head falling back against the pillows as I took him completely. "Connor..."
My name on his lips sounded like a benediction. I stayed motionless for a moment, adjusting to the feeling of him inside me, savoring the connection that seemed to defy both medical science and common sense.
We'd known each other for barely two days, yet here we were, joined in the most intimate way possible—not just physically, but with a transparency that left nowhere to hide.
I began to move, setting a slow rhythm that had Julian's breath coming in short gasps. His hands roamed my body, tracing the lines of my ribs, my chest, my shoulders with reverent fingers.
Each touch felt like being claimed, marked as his in ways far more meaningful than the legal document we'd signed or the ring I wore.
"You feel incredible," Julian murmured, his dark eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made my skin flush hot. "The way you move..."
I rolled my hips in response, drawing another moan from him. The sound vibrated through me, urging me to move faster, to chase the pleasure building between us like electricity before a storm.
Julian matched my rhythm from below, his hips rising to meet mine with surprising strength. For a man who couldn't walk, his core muscles were impressively powerful, evidence ofthe strict exercise regimen I'd glimpsed in the corner of his bedroom.
"Yes," I encouraged, bracing my hands on his chest for leverage. "Just like that."
His skin was hot beneath my palms, slick with sweat that made our bodies slide together in the most delicious way. I could feel his heart racing beneath my fingers, a rapid drumbeat that matched my own thundering pulse.
The intensity between us built steadily, waves of pleasure crashing higher with each movement. Julian's eyes never left mine, holding me captive in his gaze as surely as his hands held my body. There was something almost reverential in the way he looked at me, like I was a miracle he couldn't quite believe was real.
