Heavens above, she could scarcely wait.
He placed one knee on the bed and she reached for him, arms circling his powerful torso, hands flattening over toned muscle. Fingers stretched wide, she ran them across the puckered lines she knew she would find there. He stiffened, drew back and grabbed her arms, pushing them back so she lost her grip.
The fierce look in his eyes speared her breast, slicing through it with painful force. It conveyed a vulnerability born from the kind of shame that was stitched into his very essence. Which made her all the more furious about it and all the more determined to help him accept what had once been done to his body.
He himself had informed her of his father’s brutal conduct. He knew the proof he’d been whipped should not surprise her, but he’d no idea trying to keep it from her would be pointless.
Despite the risk, she had to address this now, if only to make sure no secrets remained between them. So she drew a deep breath, prayed he’d forgive her, and said, “You don’t have to hide your scars from me. I’ve already seen them.”
His grip on her tightened. “How?”
“When I was scouting your house for signs of where the information I sought might be kept.” She staredstraight into his penetrating gaze. “I was perched on top of one of the houses across the square and spotted you through my spyglass. You were in this room, your back turned to the window as you removed your shirt.”
There was something terrifying about his slow and even breaths – the predatory element of a beast preparing to strike. “That was not for you to see.”
“Which is why I turned away when I realized you were undressing.”
“Did you relay the information about my scars to Harlowe and Kendrick?”
“No. It wasn’t relevant to the case. Besides, I considered it an intrusion of your privacy.” His answering snort compelled her to add, “If it makes any difference, the sight infuriated me and—”
“I don’t want your pity,” he growled.
“Do not mistake pity for sympathy and a violent desire to punish your father for what he did.”
He breathed deeply, not quite relaxing but letting the beast within retreat a little. “A challenge to be sure, now that he’s dead.”
It sounded as though he regretted not having punished his father himself while he’d had the chance. Instead of asking about it, she scooted backward to gain some freedom of movement, her hand clamping down on his shoulder when he started rising.
“Stay,” she whispered, perching beside him, one leg curled beneath her, the other dangling off the mattress. Leaning in, she placed soft kisses against his knotted flesh, showing him as best she could that it didn’trepulse her, that it should not cause him shame, that she accepted this part of him without judgment.
A slow sigh reduced some of the tension in his shoulders. She moved in closer, skin against skin, each touch a tender assurance of her devotion. There would be no barriers between them. Not anymore.
Her teeth grazed him and his arm came around her, sweeping her onto the bed with predatory force. One moment she was at his side, the next she was on her back, gazing up at raw desire.
She was given no chance to adjust to her new position before his mouth and hands were upon her, raining pleasure upon her body until she became a writhing mess. Devil that he was, he seemed to enjoy the whimpered pleas she uttered when he allowed the fire he’d stoked inside her to cool rather than giving her what she wanted.
Insufferable torture, that’s what it was.
“I hate you,” she muttered when he positioned himself between her thighs.
A rough laugh was his only response as he rose above her, his broad shoulders blocking the light from the oil lamp. Muscles flexed in response to every small movement. The tightness in his features informed her that showing restraint was hard on him too.
His wolfish gaze swept the length of her body, straight down her middle. And paused. Nostrils flared. A second passed, just enough for her to suck in a breath, before he was joining his body with hers, thesensation so overwhelming and yet so utterly perfect, tears filled her eyes.
This was what it meant to belong, to share a heartbeat, to forge an unbreakable bond. And as he started to move, taking her with him every step of the way, her soul reached toward his and held on tight, uniting them as one.
10
Adrian winced when he nicked himself with the flat blade. Trying to shave while a satisfied grin curled his lips was no easy feat. But it was hard to avoid the expression after the night he’d shared with Samantha.
His wife was a brazen fox. He’d enjoyed showing her what her body was capable of. And how he liked being touched in return. The memory of it made him grip his blade a bit harder.
When she’d brought up the scars, his instinct had been to retreat. When she’d told him how she knew of the scars, he’d wanted her out of his sight – the reminder of why she’d come into his life reigniting his anger.
But then she’d kissed him, her soft lips trailing over his ruined flesh, and he’d been wrecked, the beast intent on fleeing brought under restraint. Tamed. Soothed in away that caused fresh desire to rise, the need to claim that sweetness for himself so intense it had driven him out of his mind.
Doing his best to school his features, he scraped the blade along the edge of his jaw. Despite hating the marks his father had left on his back, there was relief to be found in Samantha’s response toward them.
