He didn’t want it to be like this.
He wanted her. Fully present. Fully aware. Fully willing—not just in body, but in heart and mind, too.
He wanted to claim her. Of course he did. Wanted to make her tremble and moan and cry out his name. But more than that, he wanted to help her heal. Wanted to take away every memory that had ever made her flinch and replace it with something that would make her sigh.
But Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, she’s hot as hell.
She tasted like strawberry yogurt and sugared coffee. And it took every ounce of inner strength he possessed—truly, were there medals for this sort of thing?—to gently curl his hands around her upper arms and ease her back.
“Wha—?” she breathed. Eyes heavy-lidded. Lips already kiss-swollen.
He swallowed hard. Told himself to focus, ya dumbass.
Easier said than done with her sweet little nipples poking through the fabric of her bra.
“We gotta slow down, sweetheart.” His voice sounded like it had been dragged behind an Abrams tank down twenty miles of bad road.
“Why?” She blinked in confusion.
He didn’t have the words to explain why a quick, hard fuck wasn’t what she needed. So he said the only thing that mattered.
“Trust me.”
Her breath released in a shaky sigh. “Okay.”
Lacing their fingers together, he led her to the bed.
But he didn’t lay her down. Not yet.
Instead, he turned her to face him and reached for the hair tie holding her messy bun atop her head. Pulling it free, he watched, awestruck, as a waterfall of dark hair tumbled over her shoulders.
A sound of appreciation rumbled in his throat. “So beautiful,” he murmured.
“It’s brown.” She wrinkled her nose.
“No.” He shook his head. “It’s milk chocolate and midnight. Shiny as sea glass. Soft as velvet.”
He buried his fingers near her scalp, loving the contrast of warm skin and cool strands.
His mouth tugged into a smirk as he held her gaze. “I’ve dreamed about it, ya know. Dreamed of what it would look like spread out over my chest.” She blinked. “Over my lap.”
Her lips parted. “You dreamed of me?”
“More nights than I ought to admit.”
“I dreamed of you, too,” she conceded, the hot look in her eyes making his cock twitch behind his fly.
“What did ya dream?” He traced a fingertip over her injured cheek, down her jaw, pausing on the fluttering pulse in her throat.
“I dreamed of you kissing me.”
He bent and replaced his fingertip with his lips, opening his mouth to press the tip of his tongue to her hammering heartbeat. Her hand cupped the back of his head, holding him close, silently asking for more.
He gave her more. Sucked gently. Savored the way she shivered.
“What else?” He knew the words were hot against her skin. “What else did ya dream of me doin’?”
“Touching me,” she whispered.
