Shipwrecked with Mr. Wrong - By Nikki Logan Page 0,34

sense kicked into overdrive. She felt him lean in, the air around her humming at his approach. His lips touched one eyelid and then the other. Soft, slow and delightful.

She’d felt his smile against her first eyelid but, when they fluttered open, he wasn’t smiling any more. And he’d shifted closer, almost touching her chest with his.

Mustn’t lean forward... She’d never felt such a burning desire to close a gap in her life. She raised her hands up to his chest to stop herself from doing precisely that but feeling the hard heat of his chest through his shirt only reminded her how long it had been since she’d felt a man’s heartbeat under her fingers. Her lips.

Five.

He didn’t need to say it. Wordless, she tipped her head sideways, exposing the long length of her neck. The good side. She pointed to a spot just next to where her pulse beat its ancient tattoo.

He leaned in closer and held her steady with one large hand on each arm. Then he slowly moved towards the place she’d identified. Honor let her heavy eyelids close again, breathless with anticipation, then felt him pull away. Disappointment ached in her throat. When she opened her eyes, his were glittering with desire and something else.

Speculation.

Before she could react, he twisted and narrowed the space between them and then pressed his mouth against the other side of her neck. Right on the leathery patchwork of her scars.

Shock stiffened her body and sensation assaulted her. She pushed away instinctively, but he held fast. Surgery had done nothing to reduce sensation where the grafts had been applied. If anything, the still-healing skin was hyper-sensitive. Electric currents shot out from the warmth of his mouth as he lazily kissed his way over her damaged skin. A lifetime of emotions surged through her—panic, desire, confusion, sorrow—but when his tongue got in on the act, her legs gave way completely. He supported her when she sagged and then carefully pulled back, watching her closely.

Tears trembled on her lashes and she struggled to blink them away in a futile attempt to disguise her confusion. Her heart hammered wildly. Even the ache she perpetually lived with ached.

To have the sensitive, awful skin touched at all by another person, let alone kissed so tenderly...it just about broke her heart anew. She swallowed back the bitter salt of tears.

Rob watched her cautiously. He didn’t look repulsed, her foggy logic whispered. He wasn’t making excuses or avoiding eye contact. He looked focused and present and...disturbingly sexy.

Honor felt exactly like he looked. Smoky-eyed and just the tiniest bit wary. Did he realise just what an intimate thing that kiss had been? Maybe, judging by the uncertainty in his expression.

First vulnerable, now uncertain. Maybe he was more human than she’d thought? Human and so very, very close.

That was enough to nudge her over the sensual precipice. She stretched up on her toes to press her mouth firmly against his. A small kiss, just lips meeting lips. But she’d done it. Not him.

And that made it a big kiss.

Rob’s hands slid up to frame her face, holding her steady while his lips grazed repeatedly over hers. A hint of coffee mixed with mint. It was a heady combination. Both of their chests heaved and Honor trembled at the taste and feel of a man’s breath on her face. Nice breath.

Rob’s breath.

He tested her lips with his tongue and she caved in immediately, admitting him and slipping her own tongue into blazing heaven. It was stupidly, hideously, leg-crossingly erotic. And it was only a kiss.

No wonder he was such a success with women. The man made out like a god.

Ding, ding, ding.

Alarm bells clanged. Sanity returned and Honor realised she’d been pressing her body against his still-healing stomach wounds. She tore herself away and retreated a few feet. Her breath came heavily and it pleased her to see that he was just as affected.

Expert in the art he might be, but even super-lover could clearly feel the attraction surging between them. How easy would it be to just let the energy draw her back into his arms? How tempting was it to give herself the physical pleasure, at least, and keep her heart bound up tight for her boys? Her lost boys.

She ignored the violent tingles still buzzing across her damaged skin and fought hard to find her voice. Her voice croaked out one word.

‘Six!’

CHAPTER EIGHT

HONOR woke for the first time without the familiar ache in her chest. It took