He groans softly, his tongue and teeth gentle on my sensitive flesh.
My head tips back, and I make a sound that’s anything but dignified.
Tex’s hand grips my hip, steadying me. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Let it out.”
No one has ever told me that before, not about anything—crying or laughing too loudly or taking up too much space.
I swallow a sob that isn’t exactly sadness, just an overwhelming rush of emotion.
Tex kisses his way up my chest to my throat, then back to my mouth, swallowing my sound as if he wants all of it. I kiss him back, reckless now, grabbing at his shirt, craving more skin and fewer barriers.
He catches my wrists gently. “Easy.”
“I don’t want easy,” I object, frustration creeping into my voice.
His eyes darken. “I know.”
He releases my wrists and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. The sight of him steals my breath, scars and all. This man standing before me is built like a fortress, and he’s willing to let me in.
My fingers hover near another faint scar on his chest, over his heart, not the one he let me touch before.
Tex’s gaze drops to my hand. “It’s fine,” he says as if I’ve asked the question.
I touch it gently. “Does it hurt?”
“Not anymore,” he replies. “Some days, it feels like it should.”
I step closer and press my mouth to the raised line.
Tex goes still. Then he cups the back of my head, holding me there for a heartbeat.
When I lift my face, his eyes are wild.
“Don’t do that unless you mean it,” he says thickly.
“I mean it.”
Something in his expression breaks. He kisses me hard, lifting me effortlessly and laying me on the bed. The mattress dips beneath us as Tex braces over me, hands planted on either side of my head, his eyes locked on mine.
“Last chance,” he says again.
I reach up and grab his jaw, pulling him closer. “Stop asking.”
His mouth curves in a dark, heated smile. “Not going to stop askin’. Not with you.”
God, he’s attentive in a way that feels empowering, not condescending. Every touch seems like a deliberate choice, not a reflex he can’t control.
I lie there naked, heart racing and skin flushed.
Tex sits back on his heels, his gaze sweeping over me. Instead of making me feel exposed, it makes me feel seen. The way I've longed to be seen my entire life.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m not,” I lie automatically.
He raises an eyebrow.
I exhale sharply. “Okay, fine. I am.”
