Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“You’re going to have to forgive me for the other night.”
Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “Why’s that?”
“Because you and I have unfinished business.” I threaded my hands through her hair, pulling her up into my kiss.
11
ETHAN
Olivia didn’t move under my lips. That was my fault. I’d moved too fast and hadn’t given her much warning. Most of the time, I commanded absolute control over myself, but the woman before me obliterated it.
Her hair was soft and her mouth softer as she allowed the kiss. I parted her lips with my tongue, venturing deeper, possessing her.
Stop what you’re doing, my mind ordered, but I disobeyed.
I shifted her head in my hands, tilting it back so I could better control the kiss. Her palms flattened against my chest, and she sighed like she was surrendering. It was so fucking sexy, heat pumped through my veins and steam filled my body.
Her hands fisted my sweater. Drawing me closer, fighting for dominance. I abandoned her lips and focused on the spot on her neck just below her ear.
“Oh, so we’re doing this now?” she said, reaching up to weave her fingers through my hair.
“Yeah. If that’s all right with you.”
I trailed a hand down her neck, over her collarbone, all the way until it was on top of one of her breasts. Once again, I was moving much faster than I should, but she made me reckless. She moaned almost inaudibly while I squeezed and teased her through the fabric of her shirt.
Every touch, every taste of her choked out the logical voice in my head, making it fall silent.
Yet touching her through her clothes wasn’t enough. I was hungry, desperate. I needed to have her bare skin beneath my fingertips, wanted to use my mouth on her. The shirt in my way needed to be dealt with.
“This is coming off,” I announced, gripping the hem and yanking up—
But her arms slammed down on her sides, stopping me. “Turn off the lights.”
“You like it dark?”
That was disappointing, but I could make it work. My fingers fumbled over the switch on the wall nearby, and the overhead light went out. The only light left streamed from a dim lamp on the far side of the bed, casting our shadows on the wall.
“That goes off, too,” she ordered.
Since she was so comfortable giving me commands, I was comfortable pushing back on them. “No, it doesn’t.”
I worked my hands under her shirt, caressing my palms over the smooth skin of her stomach, and she jumped at my touch. Skin on skin. But her eyes hooded, like she enjoyed the sensation as much as I did.
“I told you,” I said, “you make it hard to focus on anything else, and part of my time was spent imagining you without clothes on.” I shouldn’t admit it, but it slipped out. “A big part.”
If it really bothered her, I was willing to negotiate on the lighting.
“You’ll change your mind.” It rang from her as a grim warning.
I traced the pads of my fingers around her sides onto her back, ventured upward over uneven skin—
My movement slowed as she stared up at me, a new emotion brimming in her eyes. Fear? She raised her arms and let me drag the fabric up, freeing her.
“Christ,” I groaned appreciatively. Just the sight of her breasts locked inside the lacy red bra was better than I’d imagined.
But the curious side of my mind would not be quiet, and Olivia’s eyes questioned my hesitation.
“Show me?” I asked.
Her expression was heartbreaking as she turned away from me. I stayed silent as I evaluated the dark pink ridges and pockmarks marring her skin, some of which had faint tracks left behind by deep, large stitches. The burn marks started below her shoulders and flowed all the way down, disappearing beneath the belt of her pants.
I’d picked up that she was ex-military, and I’d seen my share of IED victims. “Where?” I asked, my tone gentle. “Afghanistan?”
She blinked, momentarily stunned, and nodded. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
I leaned down and skimmed my lips over the crook of her neck, creating goosebumps on her skin. “Okay,” I said. “My plans don’t include conversation.”
She startled at my touch again, but likely because my fingertips were cold. I began to trace the worst scar, the one that cut a diagonal from her shoulder down to her hip on the other side, but stopped in the center of her back.
I pulled at the hook and undid her bra so my hands could roam over her patterned skin. Braille telling me the story of how close she’d been when the explosive went off.
Olivia was lucky to be alive.
The damage to her body was nothing to be ashamed of. She’d been injured serving her country. Our country. It tore at my fucking heart. She made a noise of satisfaction when I drew my hands around and pulled her up against me, her back tight to my chest.