Page 102 of The Devil’s Lair

He moves glacially slow, his face inching closer to mine. His eyes drop to my lips and linger there.

“You can,” I murmur, sensing his hesitation. “I want you to.”

A groan rolls through his chest. He cups my cheek and kisses me tentatively. His mouth moves slowly over mine as though he’s relishing every second. I open beneath him and slide my tongue against his.

It’s all the encouragement he needs. I barely register him moving until I’m in his arms, and he’s striding into my bedroom. I cling to his shoulders, anchoring myself there because if I don’t, I’m going to fall.

Except I’ve already fallen. Hard.

“I’m scared,” I whisper.

He stretches out beside me and takes my hand. “Me, too. I’m scared I’ll freak out when you touch me like I did on our picnic. But I also feel differently to that day. Since I confronted the Southalls and started seeing Lilian, there’s been this mental shift, like the wall I built in my mind has crumbled. A wall that manifested itself with an aversion to touch, and now there are gaps and cracks in that wall, I can try to move on.” He shakes his head. “I’m doing a terrible job of explaining it. I want to try, Wren. I have to try.”

“We can stop anytime. If you’re uncomfortable, just say the word.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. He rises from the bed and unbuttons his shirt, sliding it from his shoulders. I drink in the ripples of muscle as he moves, at the trail of hair snaking from his belly button to beneath his trousers. At the breadth of his shoulders and his tapered waist, that irresistible V disappearing behind his waistband.

He’s a work of art.

He removes his trousers, leaving his boxers on. He’s aroused, erect. A streak of fear blazes through me, but when our eyes meet, it vanishes.

I can do this. I can. This is Tobias. He won’t hurt me.

I grip the hem of my T-shirt and pull it over my head. My jeans follow. Thank God I went for a matching set of underwear.

“Jesus.” He caresses the dip of my waist with the back of his hand. “This is how we both begin to heal. We’re ready to try, don’t you think?”

“If you’re ready, I’m ready.”

I kneel up and cradle his face, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. I move to the other side and kiss him there.

“God, you’re beautiful.” It’s a line, but coming from Tobias, it sounds more like raw honesty.

The ache inside me grows until it’s everywhere. “You’re shaking.”

“Yeah. Terrified I’m going to fuck this up.”

His vulnerability reaches deep inside me and settles there. He doesn’t hide it from me or beat his chest in some kind of bullshit masculinity.

“You won’t fuck it up.”

I reach behind me and unclasp my bra, letting it fall into my lap. His eyes lock on my breasts. I take his hand and put it over my right breast. He closes his eyes and blows out an unsteady breath. I run my hands over his chest, watching him closely for any signs he’s uncomfortable. There are none.

His kisses start on my neck, each one sending pleasurable tremors through me until I’m lost in a haze of lust. Every brush of his lips, sweep of his tongue, murmured word of encouragement draws me deeper under his spell.

He peels my knickers down my legs, his eyes on mine, watching, I presume, for any sign of panic. I give him a lazy smile and drop my gaze to his erection.

“Your turn. I want to see.”

There’s something incredibly erotic about how he slides his thumbs into his waistband and eases them over his hips. His cock is thick and long, the head engorged, the slit weeping.

I wait for the choking feeling of panic to grip me, but it doesn’t come. Fluttery feelings swamp my chest, my clit throbbing. Instinct has me parting my legs.

Tobias drops his gaze. “Fuck,” he whispers, licking his lips.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Better than okay. Are you?”