Alex claims my cheeks and cradles my face in his large hands, forcing my face back to his. The brown irises hold warmth and desire, but not in a leering way. Still, I’m mortified, and the embarrassment coupled with his warm hands are making me hot.
“Don’t do that. Don’t shut down.”
My saliva has turned to sludge, and I need to swallow it down. “I’m not.”
“Don’t be embarrassed at what feels good. It felt good to me, too.”
“It did?” I ask back in shock, not following what’s happening. I thought he wanted me to stop?
He makes an unintelligible sound and grabs one of my hands, cupping the back of it. Threading his fingers through the tops of mine, he guides my hand to his lap. I don’t know what he’s doing until he places it on the very hard, thick bulge in his pants. As soon as my hand is settled, he pulls his away and grasps my face again.
“Darling girl, you did that.”
I swallow again, keeping my hand where it is. Not because he put it there, but because I want to. It’s a heady feeling knowing I did that to him, and not because I was forced to walk around naked or perform sexual acts to get him there. I did something I wanted, something that felt good to me, and he enjoyed it, too. My fingers flex involuntarily, making his eyelids twitch.
“You can keep your hand there or let go, whatever you want to do. Though, I’d really fuckin’ like to kiss you right now, if you’d let me.”
I’m too stunned to speak, so I nod, wanting that, too. That’s not good enough for him, though.
“Your words are powerful. I need to hear you say it. Ask me to kiss you, Shelby.”
My stomach flips. He’s giving me an incredible gift, the opportunity to test this experience with someone who knows my situation and will be kind to it, one I’d be stupid to turn down. “Please kiss me, Alex.”
He groans again, a sound that does incredible things to my insides and is quickly becoming one of my favorites. His fingers slide from my cheeks into the hair at the sides of my head. Holding me still, he moves in slowly.
I don’t move an inch; I barely even breathe as he comes closer. In the gentlest touch I’ve ever felt, he presses his lips against mine. Our eyes stay locked, and he adds a bit more pressure. That simple touch sets my heart racing. He pulls away with a satisfied look on his face. “Thank you, dar—ˮ
“No.”
Capturing the back of his head, I pull him back into me. Our lips crash together, and this time, our eyes slide shut. Our bodies are a push and pull of power; ultimately, I win out and scramble onto his lap. I feel his hardness between my thighs, and it terrifies me as much as it thrills me. As he takes my mouth, I press down against him and gasp at the zing of pleasure when I get the pressure just right, moaning into his mouth. I can feel his restraint in the shake of his arms where he’s holding my head. His hands never stray, and I’m quietly grateful for it. I can’t say the same for my own. I scrape my nails down the back of his scalp, rub his nape, and bring my hand around to the front of his torso. My fingertips trail along the hard muscles of his chest, causing his hips to give a slight twitch upward. I tentatively grind down to meet him. He grunts into my mouth. Taking that as a good sign, I continue exploring his torso. Finding the hem of his shirt, I slip my fingers beneath it. His skin is warm and silky, separated by trails of hair. I wander to his sides, feeling the ridge of his obliques and up over his rib cage.
Alex’s tongue traces my lower lip, and out of everything, that makes me freeze. I can’t explain it, but he immediately notices and stops. Instead of wrenching away suddenly, he slowly moves his kisses to the corner of my mouth, my cheekbone, right below my ear, giving me time to catch my breath.
“It’s too soon. That’s okay, blossom,” he murmurs.
“I-I’m sorry.”
With gentle pressure, he guides my head beneath his chin and lowers his arms around my waist where he wraps me tight. “I’ve never tasted something so beautiful on my lips.”
I push up frantically, and he lets me. “I’m not beautiful,” I mutter, sitting taut on his lap. I wanted to scramble off, but the second the words leave my lips, his arms lock around me.
“Knock that shit off.” There’s no mistaking the anger in his voice. My body goes on high alert.
“I know what I am, Alex. You don’t have to reward me with compliments just because I let you kiss me.”
His body turns to stone.
“What the fuck?”
Fear injects into my veins, and I’m suddenly cold. “Let me go,” I whimper.
That’s not what happens. He locks his arms and dips his chin so that there’s nowhere for me to look but at him.
“You don’t have a fuckin’ clue what you are. You’ve been so conditioned to think the absolute worst, but let me share something with you. I’ve lived an ugly life for as long as I can remember. My mom walked out when I was eight. Before that, it was years of her fighting with my dad. After that, it was years of my dad fighting with my sister and me. You know what happened to Molly; my dad got his head blown off shortly after. I’ve been living. In. Hell. So when I have something beautiful in my arms, you can believe me to tell the truth about it. I might have seen a lot of ugly, but I’m not so blind as to miss when something beautiful comes along.”
“I’m tainted.”
“You’re gorgeous,” he fires back.
“I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Lips of a fuckin’ angel. I’ve never experienced something so sweet as you moaning and sighing in my mouth. If I didn’t think I’d scare you halfway across the world, I’d bring you to my bed and kiss you again.”
That gets me. The thought of kissing him in his bed. So much so, I almost beg him to do just that.
That wouldn’t be wise, though, kissing him again. More than just the fact it scares me half to death. What confounds me the most is that I responded to him. My body responded to him, and I liked it. And I can’t tell if it’s my years of conditioning that want to please him or if I really, truly want it for me. I feel bold. I also feel terrified.
“What’s going through that head of yours?”
Fingertips graze my cheek, and then my head is being turned. I face Alex and inhale sharply at the openness in his gaze. For once, the rich brown of his eyes doesn’t look so black and dangerous.
I close mine, and when I open them, I use the patient look on his face to fuel my courage. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s a fuckin’ great idea.” He must feel me tense because he continues, “But not one you’re ready for. I get that. I can give you all the time in the world if it’s what you need to work out what those sick bastards did to you. What I can’t give you is time to work out of your mind what you think of yourself. I won’t take that shit, and I won’t let you do it either. That’s not somethin’ you should fight through alone. If I have to tell you every fuckin’ day you’re beautiful, I’ll do it until you got it.”
I shift in his lap. “You shouldn’t have to do that. I-I should just be normal.”
“You’ve been livin’ through hell, so this probably isn’t even on your radar, but all women have been trained to think that beauty matters most. Girls who’ve lived a fairy-tale life still wake up in the morning and look in the mirror only to find something they’re unhappy with. They get plastic surgery and injections to look youthful for as long as possible because somewhere along the way, growing old turned into a bad thing. Took me a long time to figure it out, but growing old is a privilege. Especially when you got someone to do it with.”