“She.” He answers as he props my leg on the pillows and places the bag of ice on my ankle. I hiss and he frowns, like my pain hurts him. “I found her.”
“Where?”
“Does it matter?”
The stern man’s face softens as he pets Biscuit’s little head, the gesture so human, so sweet for someone so … not.
“So, what now?”
“Now, you rest.”
I wiggle uncomfortably. That’s not how I thought my fantasy would go. Biscuit settles in my arms and I look up at Toma again. He’s standing by the side of the bed, hovering and towering over me, the massive expanse of his chest and strong arms a beacon for my hungry stare. I lick my lips.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he demands and his voice glides against my skin, having the absolute contrary effect. I very much want to devour him with my eyes, my lips, my teeth.
“Like what?”
“You know what, Lucie. Keep giving me the fuck-me eyes, and I won’t be able to hold myself.”
“What if I don’t want you to?”
“You’re hurt.”
“Barely,” I counter.
“It’s because of me.” His voice takes on a tortured edge and it dawns on me. He chased me through the woods, so in his mind, he’s responsible for my little accident. Except, I wanted to be chased. And caught. And now, I want the reward while adrenaline still courses through me.
“Can you put Biscuit in the bathroom please?”
His brow furrows but he does what I ask.
I beckon him to me with a finger and like a magnet pulled to me, he comes willingly. I’ve given so much and lost so much. I want to take.
I fist his tee-shirt with both hands, pulling him to me, lips so close to his I can feel his breath dusting over my mouth.
“You chased me through the woods. You caught me. Now. Take. Me.”
EIGHTEEN
TOMA
“Take. Me.”
The words echo in my head until they’re the only thing left.
I frame Lucie’s face and crash my lips to hers. Gone is the careful touch. I’m here to plunder. Take what she so willingly offers. I could have never dreamt of someone so perfect for me.
She moans into my mouth and I’m done for. Sucking on her tongue, I rip her jacket and sweater off, growling like a madman when our lips have to separate even for the second it takes to get her naked. Her pants, underwear and socks are next, our movements frantic, uncaring, urgent. I can’t stop touching her, kissing her. I want to lick every part of her delicious body.
When I step back to discard my own clothes, her beauty chokes me. She lounges against the headboard of the bed, her hair a little mess of blonde strands on each side of her shoulders, breasts full and heavy waiting for my hands. The tattooed script of her ribs reads her family motto.
I take her in, eyes hungry. Her knees are bent, the elegant curves of her legs hiding her stomach and pussy.
But something catches my eyes and chokes me.
I see her swallow as I freeze and try to make sense of the raised, pink skin on her thighs.
My eyes travel back up to Lucie’s. I grind my molars, reigning in the anger. She hurt herself. It’s not sadness I’ve witnessed before on her beautiful face, when no one’s watching. It’s pure pain.
