“Baby, if there’s a will, there’s a way.”
Once again, she starts to wiggle off my lap. A gasp leaves her lips when she grazes my cock through the silky athletic shorts I’m forced to wear. Kind of hard to unbutton pants with an arm in a sling.
I thrust my hips toward her, wiggling my eyebrows.
“You’re terrible.”
“Nah, baby. Just desperate to taste you. It’s been too fucking long.”
“There’s no way,” she repeats. I can see her mind turning.
“Minimal movement, baby. You do all the work.”
“You got shot...”
“Correct.”
“In the shoulder.”
“Did you memorize my chart, doc? C’mon, baby. Let’s get creative.”
She stares at me for a long moment, and I can see the war behind her eyes. She’s afraid to hurt me, but she never could. And besides, I’d willingly die a happy man with her taste on my tongue.
“Stand up.”
Her eyes flare at my demand, heat pooling in their depths.
She pushes to her feet, staying right in front of me. The backs of her knees barely brush the coffee table behind her. I takeher in from this angle, casting a long, appreciative glance in her direction, letting the moment stretch.
Wren Drummond is breathtaking. Long, slender neck, brunette hair curled around her shoulders in soft waves. The lace of her dress cups her breasts, accentuating each swell. Her hands land on her hips as she stares down at me sheepishly, unsure how far my demands will go.
“Lift your skirt.”
Her eyes flick to mine, curiosity sparking there. She does as she’s told. In measured movements, her fingers slide the hem of her skirt until it’s held above her hips. Her yellow thong only makes her bronze skin that much deeper. The late morning sun pours in through the window, cascading her in warmth.
My breath leaves me in a low exhale as she steps forward, giving me a better view.
“Beautiful,” I mutter.
My fingers twitch as they reach out, running up her smooth thigh. A spot of black beneath second skin catches my attention.
I flick my gaze up to find hers waiting for me, bottom lip trapped between her teeth.
“When?”
“While you were in the hospital. I found a heart you’d drawn in one of your letters.”
“Baby…” I itch to touch the tattoo, but don’t since it’s fresh.
She shrugs. “I knew you were okay. But I wanted a piece of you on me.”
Fuck. I love this woman.
“D-Do you like it?”
“Love it.”
She beams under my praise.
