She straightened and looked at him. ‘Can you take your shirt off?’
He kissed her once, then reached back, tugging his shirt over his head. She traced the arrow scars with her fingers.
‘Do you still have pain?’ she asked.
‘No.’
She doubted he would admit it if he did. Sliding off his lap until her knees hit the floor, she bent to kiss each scar. ‘I’m so happy you survived.’
‘Me too.’ His words were breathy.
Straightening, she unbuttoned the front of her dress and pulled it down to her waist, watching his face the entire time. His eyes followed her every movement. When she went to remove her breast band, he reached up to help her. Then she was kneeling in front of him, naked from the waist up.
Harlan’s eyes travelled up to hers, lust and something else swirling in them. ‘You sure about this?’
She nodded, reminding herself to breathe.
Getting to his feet, he picked her up like she weighed nothing and wrapped her legs around him. ‘Hold on to me.’
They were skin to skin for the first time.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked when he started walking away from the fire.
‘Upstairs. We’re going to need a bed for the things I want to do to you.’
She buried her face in his neck and smiled against his warm skin.
Chapter 25
Harlan had always thought himself incapable of gentleness. Historically, his encounters with women had been rushed, a pounding of flesh, chasing one mutual goal. He did not do intimacy. Sex had always been a means to an end. Not that he was a selfish lover but a practical one. Methodical in his approach.
He was not gentle with people. And others were not gentle with him. Why would they be? He was six feet two inches of brick.
His mother had been gentle though, but at some point he had forgotten the fact. Or her. Or simply repressed both out of necessity. He recalled the way she spoke to him as a child, the way she brushed his long hair back from his face every time his father said it was time he had a cut.
Gentle.
Warm.
And with the softest hazel eyes.
He had felt the need to warn Blake about this missing part of him. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’
She had gripped his face, forcing him to look at her. ‘Then you won’t hurt me.’
She had far too much faith in him. She was right though. Even when driven mad by desire, he had handled her like a porcelain doll.
When they lay together afterwards, Blake tucked against him, two things hit him: that had been the best sex of his life, and he was indeep.
‘Hungry?’ he asked, pushing hair off her face.
She blinked up at him, cheeks still flushed and lips swollen. All he wanted to do was kiss her again. That was new. Normally when he was done, he wasdone.
‘Merchants are always hungry’ was her reply.
She meant it as a joke, but his chest tightened. ‘I’m going to need to keep you better fed.’
She stretched to kiss him, and his entire body paid attention.
