“It… I…” She blows out a breath, and it’s a shaky one, the kind full of fear and embarrassment.
I lay another soft kiss on her lips and push her hair out of her face again. I love doing that. “It’s okay, Finley. We’re rushing this. We can slow down.”
“I don’t want to slow down. I’ve been pushed my entire life. I’ve had this moment almost taken from me countless times.” Her hand lands on my cheek and brushes against my stubble. “I’m don’t want you to look at me. That’s the truth.”
“You’re beautiful. All I want to do is look at you.”
She shakes her head. “But I’m all…” Her chin wobbles, and she lifts her eyes toward the ceiling. “I’m all bruised and marked up. I don’t… I don’t want you to think I’m used up or dirty.” A tear breaks free of her lash line, and it devastates me.
I wipe it away, then kiss her cheek, hating that such darkness touched her like that. “I could never see you that way. Is that how you see me?” Her eyes fall to mine, and a cute wrinkle forms between her brows. “I’m a man with a past—charged, convicted, and served time for the exact act that put these bruises on you, Finley. Do you see me as dirty?” Because sometimes, I view myself as dirty with that fucking incorrect label stamped on me. I feel like it’s all anyone can see.
“No, I don’t believe you did that for a second, Grayson. Not at all.” Her hand lays over my heart, and there’s no doubt she can feel the wild pound of it. “Not for a second.”
“And I don’t believe you’re damaged,” I say, sliding my hand down her torso. I curl my fingers around the hem of her shirt. “I don’t think you’re broken.” I pull it higher. “I don’t think you’re tainted.” I pause when I get to her breasts. “I think…” I swallow the lump in my throat and pull the shirt above her head. “I think you’re exactly what I’ve been missing in my life.” My eyes drift to her breasts hidden behind a plain black bra, but I swear, I’ve never seen anything sexier.
The need for violence fuels my blood cells, but I tamp it down deep, so she doesn’t see the lividity boiling under my skin. She needs reassurance. If I spook her, she’ll panic. I’m not worried about the sex; I’m worried about how she’ll view herself.
She tries to cover herself up by crossing her arms over her chest, and I stop her right away, gripping each marked wrist gently to her sides. My eyes travel down her neck, and I lean down, pressing my lips against the fading handprint wrapped around her throat. I’m glad the fucker who did this to her is dead because there would be no doubt in my mind that I’d hunt him down and kill him.
I’d slowly take a knife to his throat and saw his head off. Take my fucking time. Actually, I’d leave his head for last.
It’s what fuckers like him deserve.
I nibble on her throat and drag my tongue down the side of the pulsating vein. My fingers slip under the strap of her bra and pull it down, kissing another black and blue spot that seems to be taking a lot longer to heal.
“We don’t have to do this,” I remind her.
“I’ll kill you if you stop.” She moans.
The only way I’ll stop is if she tells me to. While I’m adoring her shoulder with attention, I slip the other strap down her arm, then reach around her back and unclasp her bra. I wait a second, and her body is shaking uncontrollably beneath mine. I sit up, slide one finger down her sternum and push the material away.
There are two handprints, one on either breast from someone trying to take what wasn’t theirs. She’s more beautiful than she has ever been. I’m looking at a fighter, a strong woman, someone who kills to survive.
And only the fiercest know how to survive.
With a tender, feathered caress, I cup her heavy tits and flick my thumbs over the pink nipples.
“Oh.” Her lips form a small O, showing the surprise when she realizes how good a touch can really be when it’s done right.
“You’re gorgeous,” I praise her, hoping she realizes I mean more than what she looks like on the outside. I drift my palms down her ribcage and watch a million goose bumps dance along her skin. I tug on the waistband of her leggings and know what I’ll see when I take them off. Deep red scratch marks along her inner thigh, and I plan on kissing every single one of them.
I tug them off and toss them over my head. She closes her legs and turns to look at the wall to the left. I press my hands on either side of her inner knee and spread her legs. She covers her face with her hands and when I look down, I want to scream, roar, and curse to the fucking sky. Who would do this to someone? The marks are deep, scabbed over, and some are worse than others, but they travel from her groin to her knees. They are vicious, just like the intent.
I lower myself between her legs while she sniffles. She’s been holding her pain inside, her shame, how ugly she feels now after someone tried to defile her. I want her to let it go because while physically she will heal, mentally she might take longer. I’ll be here every step of the way to help her heal.
I kiss and lick every mark the other men left like savages. I’m not sure how long I stay there kissing the abused skin, but it’s long enough to turn her sniffles into moans. Her hands fall to my head, gently running her fingers through my hair. I bury my nose between her legs, pushing against the soft fabric of her plain black underwear. I think they are the sexiest piece of clothing I’ve ever seen because she’s wearing them. Inhaling, a rumble vibrates in my chest when her nectar invades my senses causing my mouth to water.
“Grayson,” she moans my name in need.
Need.
Not fear.
She isn’t afraid of me, and that means the fucking world.
I rub my thumb over her clit through the thin underwear, and her back arches. Her dampness teases my finger, and I need more. I know she needs more, so I glide her panties down her long legs. I want them wrapped around me while I power drive into her, making her scream my name and ride my cock with her tight cunt.
“Grayson—”
Before she can say another word, I latch my mouth onto her clit, and my eyes roll back from feeling the slick petal on my tongue. Her pleasurable cries are music to my ears, and her hips start to rock for more friction. If she needs more, I’ll give her more.
I’ll give her whatever the fuck she wants.
I’ll even give her my trust, and I have a feeling her trust isn’t that easy to come by.
Chapter Fourteen
FINLEY
Never in my life have I felt something this good. Every nerve in my body is sending signals to one another, forming into one giant oversensitive explosion waiting to happen. My hands hit the mattress and I grab onto the sheets as he feasts.
He is too good with his mouth, tongue, hands, fucking everything. Jesus, I can only imagine what he can do with his cock.
“Oh my god!” my body arches when he slides a finger inside me. I should be embarrassed by how wet I am, but I’m not. I can’t help how much he turns me on.
“So fucking tight,” he mumbles against my folds, sucking my clit into his mouth as he slides a finger in and out.