Instantly awake, I inhale sweet honeysuckle and find her green eyes almost ablaze with streaks of copper. Wren presses her lips to mine, and her little moan sends the blood rushing to my cock. I want to claim her, to feel her come apart in my arms, to taste her release as it floods my tongue, but she’s so battered and broken.
“Please,” she whispers. “I need you. You won’t hurt me.”
“How do you do that?” I thread my fingers through her hair, tightening just enough to hold her head still so she can’t look away. “Know what I’m thinking?”
Her smile is my sunshine, my oxygen, and I’d do anything to see her smile at me every day for the rest of my life. “Your eyes. You think you’re so mysterious. Or…maybe…stoic. But I’ve never met anyone who says so much with just their eyes.” At my frown, she draws her thumb across my lips. “When I met you, your eyes were…blank. Hard. Cold. I don’t know when they changed. After I was attacked, maybe?”
Avoiding her bruises, I feather kisses along her jaw. “I’ve trained for years to hide my emotions from the enemy. It’s how I survived Hell. But...it also cost me. I don’t want to be that person anymore. You make me…a better man.”
Wren shifts her hips to press against my hard length. “You did that all on your own. Now are you going to undress me? Or do I have to do everything around here?”
The challenge in her eyes snaps my control, and I roll her onto her back, straddling her and curling my fingers around the edge of her fleece pants. But then in the dim light seeping around the curtains, I see her bruises. “Promise me, Wren. If I hurt you, tell me.”
“I need you to hurt me,” she whispers. “Pain is real. You’re real.We’rereal.”
Every protective instinct I have screams at me to stand down. To gather her in my arms and insist she sleep more. Or simply hold her and talk to her. But her short nails dig into my shoulders, desperate, and I yank the waistband over her hips.
Copper curls glisten with her arousal, and the scent of her fills the room. I try for gentle as I ease the sweatshirt over her head, and then she’s bared to me. In the light of day, her injuries look so much worse, and she cringes as she watches my gaze travel the length of her body, settling on the angry, red needle marks at her elbow.
“Ry…I’m…sorry.” Tears well in her eyes, one slipping down her temple, close to her ear. I wick the salty drop away with my kiss, then claim her mouth, my tongue meeting hers in a slow, languid dance I don’t want to ever end. But I have to reassure her, to tell her how beautiful she is. Or…show her.
Stretching out next to her, I trail the backs of my fingers along her cheekbone. “You’re perfect, sweetheart. Don’t ever think otherwise.”
“I let him—”
“You didn’tlethim do anything.” I take her hand, kissing the bruises on her fingers. “You fought back.” My lips trail down to her wrist, to the reddened burns from whatever he used to tie her up, then along the back of her forearm, where a bruise darkens her pale skin. Another defensive wound. Blocked punch, if I had to guess. “You protected yourself. You’re so fucking strong, Wren. When I saw you on that balcony…”
“I was a mess. I still am—”
“You were beautiful.” A smile tugs at my lips, and for once, I don’t fight it. “I stopped dead in my tracks. Couldn’t even speak for a few seconds. I’ve never been so scared. Not even in Hell. But then…you jumped onto that awning without a moment’s hesitation. You’re so fucking strong, baby. You don’t see it. But I do.”
Reaching her elbow, I press a tender kiss to the needle marks, and under my touch, her body starts to relax. I wish I had the words to tell her how much she’s changed my life. The pieces of my heart she’s mended by simply being her. By seeing me. The man behind the scars.
Her nipple pebbles as I score my teeth over the tender nub. “More, Ry. Please…”
“Oh, I’m just getting started.” Pinching the other taut bud between my fingers, I kiss down the line of her stomach, all the way to her copper curls. “You taste like rain,” I murmur against her clit, and when my tongue traces lazy circles between her folds, she fists the sleeping bag and keens softly.
“Oh God. I need…I need…” Her heels dig against the floor, and she jerks and thrusts against my mouth. Wrapping one hand around her hip, I freeze as she whimpers in pain. But in the next breath, she begs, “Harder.”
I can’t get enough of her—the quiet gasps, the way she arches her back, the flood of arousal coating my tongue. Slipping two fingers deep inside her channel, I twist my hand, finding her G-spot as I suck on her clit.
“Ryker!” She slaps her hand over her mouth as she shatters, her entire body bucking helplessly, the waves of pleasure overtaking her.
My little bird gasps and shudders as she comes down from her release, and I hold her as gently as I can, taking in every curve, every freckle, and every bruise. I don’t need any fancy memory techniques for Wren. I’ll never forget a single detail. I can’t. They’re all written directly on my heart.
“Off,” she whispers as she tugs at the hem of my shirt. “I need to feel you. And see you.”
She’s seen me naked half a dozen times now, and I still pause. But though she hasn’t said the words, the love in her eyes spurs me on, and I reach behind me, grasping the collar and sliding the shirt over my head. Her palms skim my pecs, fingers tracing over my scars.
“You’re real, Ry. Every mark…every burn…is a part of you.” Wren offers me a small smile as she pulls off my briefs and strokes my cock. I’m so hard, her gentle touch threatens to undo me, and a bead of precum coats my crown, slips against her fingers.
When she wriggles down my body and swirls her tongue around my shaft, I groan. “Fuck, Wren. I won’t last if you keep doing that.” Her lips envelop me, and my balls ache with desperate need. “Baby, I don’t want you on your knees. I need to see your face. Look into your eyes.”
A quietpopas she draws her lips over my crown accompanies the crinkle of the condom wrapper, and then the tight heat of her channel grips me as I slide home. A feeling I don’t understand spreads from the center of my chest, warm and soft and…right. Bracing myself over her, I thrust deep, and she wraps her legs around me.
“Harder,” she urges. God, this woman is perfect. My little bird. My angel. My everything. She saved me from my own demons, and now…I’ll do whatever I can to banish hers.
Her fingers dig into my ass, and I slam into her, so hard and fast I’m scared I’ll break her, but she holds my gaze, love reflected in her eyes. Grinding my hips against her mound, I let myself go, her name tumbling from my lips like a prayer.
