Page 142 of To All the Guys I Killed Before

We both know I mean her and only her, but she chooses not to acknowledge that and instead pokes me in the chest.

“You are worth protecting,” she says fiercely. “Especially if you can come home and make it all the way upstairs without noticing the snow blowing in through a broken window.”

“I had other things on my mind.” I brush my thumb over the mark on her cheek, hating Overton for putting his hands on her.

“Unacceptable.” She’s glaring, but she leans into my touch. “We’re having Pell install a security system tomorrow. He can put it on our tab.”

Our. God, I love it.

“If it’ll make you happy, okay.” Then I lift my brows. “And that’s the last time you say that handsome motherfucker’s name when we’re in bed together.”

She scoots the tiniest bit closer to me, tightening the towel around her breasts when it threatens to slip. “Please. Do you think I’d look twice at him with you living next door?”

I’m about to remind her that she doesn’t live next door anymore, but her fingers are picking apart the knot at my waist. The fabric falls away, and my cock springs free, the head already damp with precum.

“Mine.” She sits up eagerly, reaching for me, but she can’t hide the tiny flinch the motion causes.

“Yours,” I agree, catching her hand before she makes contact and all my good intentions go up in flames. “But there’s a problem: you’re too hurt for any kind of sex⁠—”

“The hell I am!”

“Let me finish,” I say evenly, pressing down on the pulse point in her wrist. “You’re too hurt for any kind of sex that has you on your knees or puts any weight on your shoulder or ankles or feet, and I don’t want to accidentally hit your collarbone or grab your cut arm.”

She flings herself back on the pillow and glares at me. “So, what, you want me to just lie back and think of England?”

I’m on top of her in a flash, caging her with my body.

“No,” I growl. “I want you to lie back and think of me.”

I keep all of my weight a few inches above her but close enough that I can lower my head to kiss her. Our only points of contact are the tip of my hard dick against the towel covering her body and my mouth on hers. I suck on her pouty lower lip until she softens and opens for me. But when she lifts her hands to rest them against my tensed, flexed ab muscles, I shift away.

“There’s only one rule tonight,” I say, reaching for the calm, authoritative voice that worked to get her to the shower. “You move, I stop.”

As I speak, I lower myself again so my cock presses into her fabric-covered core, and exactly like I knew she would, she bucks up into me. I retreat immediately, and she gives a little moan.

“Hugo! Why?”

“Because,” I say, bringing my lips to her ear, “I’m sure as hell not going to cause you any pain during sex.” I bite down on her lobe. “Any pain you don’t want, that is.”

She pushes her hips into me again. I pull away again.

“I mean it,” I warn her. “No moving. No touching. Let me give you what you need.”

Her brow creases, but it’s accompanied by a lip nibble. “What about what you need?”

“This is what I need.” I drop my mouth to hers for another brush of our lips before rolling off so she can consider what I’m asking her to do. I see the uncertainty in her eyes, and I don’t blame her for it. She’s pulled a knife on me, taken me to the ground, fought bigger men to the death. She’s used to being in control, and even when things spin out, she’s the one reacting, calling the shots. And she thinks this is a surrender.

To show her that it’s not, I brush a finger over the bruise on her collarbone, not hard enough to cause actual pain but enough to break her concentration and remind her that even my gentlest touches can hurt her if we’re not careful.

“It’s simple,” I say. “You move, I stop. You tell me to stop, I stop.”

I trail my fingers up the inside of one of her strong legs and slip them under the edge of her towel.

“But if you don’t move, I don’t stop.”

Her chest rises and falls unevenly as my hand pauses just shy of where she’s dying for me to touch, and she gives a little keening sound when I pull it back.

“Do you trust me?” I ask.