Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
His words dwindled as though he’d gotten lost in that far-off land where he’d been sent to take a life but instead followed his soul’s direction to save. After a moment, Autumn prompted him. “But?” she whispered.
He jolted slightly as though traveling swiftly to the present. To her arms. And she liked to think that was the thing that made him continue. “I finally evaded them. I got to a location where I could ditch the vehicle. I went to pick her up, to carry her, but she had died. She was already dead.”
Oh, Sam. Her throat felt clogged. She felt his heartbreak, his deep confusion, as if it was her own. That was the reason he’d been dismissed from the program he’d been unwillingly enrolled in. He’d failed in their eyes, but he’d been a blazing success in hers. They were the ones who’d failed, because they couldn’t suppress his humanity, his inborn need to answer the call of the helpless, no matter the cost. Her love for him was a living, breathing thing that felt too big, too overwhelming for her heart to contain. “She died being rescued,” she said when she found her voice.
“But she still died.”
“I’m sorry, Sam. I’m so sorry.”
She squeezed him tighter, bringing her lips to his skin, kissing and soothing, whispering words of love. She felt his body loosen, his breath come easier. The owl outside hooted again, nearer this time, and the curtains stirred, a shiver of moonlight making the room sparkle, but only for a moment. He turned to her, his gaze moving over her face. In this low light and with the shifting shadows, Sam looked like any man. His scar was gone, his coloring blended. She only saw the angles and dips of his face, the soft swell of his lips. They’d taken so much from him. So much. Yet he’d retained a gentle heart. A miracle. Her miracle. Her love.
The curtain lifted, a filmy shaft of moonlight falling over Sam momentarily and exposing him to her in all his myriad differences. Her heart warmed. There he was, her Sam, the real version she preferred. The version built from pain and struggle and strength and fortitude. And though she was deeply sorry he had been made to experience those things, he was him because of them.
She felt him respond to her touch, not just in acceptance but with need, so she let her lips linger on his neck, her hand exploring the contradictions of this man’s body. The landscape of Sam. I could spend the rest of my life charting you. Velvety smooth in one spot and raised and rough in another. Muscle to knead in one area and the resistance of a metal plate somewhere else. He groaned softly, a masculine sound of arousal that her body immediately responded to, softening where Sam was growing hard. “Every inch of you is beautiful,” she told him, meaning it down to her marrow.
He made a grunt of disagreement, a note of bewilderment under the gruff sound.
I’m going to make you believe it, Sam. Someday.
She laced her fingers with his, bringing them up and gazing at her small hand in his large one. She remembered thinking, so long ago, in that forest where she’d first cast eyes upon him, that he could crush her beneath him if he wanted. Yet in some metaphorical way, she felt like she was holding him in her hand, that only she was the one capable of crushing. His heart, his view of himself. Again, she felt that edge of fear, that unworthiness, but she breathed it away. He was counting on her, so she would be brave. “Touch me,” she whispered.
“After that?” he breathed.
After that. After he’d told her what happened in that distant land where he’d tried to save a little girl and, to his mind, failed.
But not to hers.
“Especially after that,” she said.
His breath hitched. “Tie me up.”
She raised herself up and leaned over him, her gaze meeting his in the shadowy room. “No. I want to feel your hands on me. I want to feel you over me. Because I trust you. Because I love you.”
He blinked, his soul shining in his gaze, his lips parting in a surprised O. He took her face in his hands, cradling it gently, and she tilted her head, smiling, nuzzling her cheek against his palm. He brought his mouth to hers, kissing her softly, slowly, as she lay back on her pillow and he leaned over her, his large body above hers for the very first time. She relished the moment, the feel of his lips pressing down on her, the heat of his naked skin mere inches from hers. Despite being at his mercy, she’d never felt more protected. She whispered his name between kisses. There was no fear, no trepidation. She knew he would never hurt her. She always had. He’d learned to receive, but she realized now that maybe it was even more important that he learned how to trust himself enough to give.