No, dominant men have always used their power over her, and I won’t ever be that kind of man. My palms cup her ass and carry her over to the bed and lay her down. I’m prepared to go as slow as she wants, but her hands rip at my shirt and yank it over my head in one swift move.
“I love how you look without a shirt. Like a god, all abs and pecs.” For added affect, she squeezes my chest muscles, and the action takes me by surprise.
I have to admit it makes me feel pretty fucking great about myself. I bend down and take her lips in another messy kiss, then pull away, wanting to see her body when I lift her shirt.
Only she stops me, and my eyes lift to hers from the smooth patch of skin above the waistband of her leggings. Her slender fingers wrap around mine, and the primal lust that took over her body just moments ago is gone.
My hands don’t move an inch, but I’m gasping for air as if I’ve run a mile. “What’s wrong? Do you want to stop? We can. It isn’t an issue.” I remove my fingers from her shirt and curl over her, mapping her face with my eyes and smile. “It’s okay. It’s been a while since I’ve had sex. I can wait for as long as you want.”
“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
