Belonging to Them - By Brynn Paulin Page 0,11

and pushed against his fly. She wasn’t the only one in need. Hell, he’d barely slept for his desire and knowing she was in the room beside his.

Hungrily, he kissed her.

“Jamie,” she murmured against his lips.

“I love your mouth,” he groaned, darting in for another taste. “I don’t want to share it.”

She pulled back and looked at him, observing him fully, not flinching. He knew what she was doing. She wanted him to realize that the scars didn’t matter to her, that she didn’t think they detracted from him as a man.

But the scars did matter. He knew it. Maybe they didn’t in this brief moment, but they would. Later…

“Then don’t,” she said, taking him by surprise. “Don’t share it. I won’t kiss anyone’s mouth but yours while I’m here.”

He liked the idea of that and kissed her again as if to seal the deal. He tensed slightly as she started to open his shirt. His hands covered hers then slid down to her waist.

“Maybe you should undress first.” He shuffled them toward the bed and he sat on the edge. He wanted to help her out of her clothes but since his ability to kneel was lacking these days.

She smiled slightly, and her fingers stroked over his ridged cheek. “I’m not going to change my mind.” She pulled her T-shirt over her head then tossed it aside. “Seeing you isn’t going to change how I feel—how I felt the moment I saw you. It won’t change what I want.” Her palms slid over her torso, and her eyes drifted to half-mast. “Or how I burn.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips against her sternum, just above the flimsy fastener of her bra. Backing up slightly, but staying within his arms’ reach, she swiveled her hips. Her fingers played at the closure of her jeans.

“I’ve never felt this free,” she said. Her teeth on her lower lip told of the nerves that still trembled through her.

“But?” he asked.

“But then I remember how…odd…this all is, and it makes me—well, I don’t know. What would people think if they knew I was with four men last night? And that I’m still yearning for one of them. That I’m not sure I can get enough…”

“Around here, they’d think you’re a goddess. Anywhere else doesn’t matter.” He pulled her forward and down to straddle his legs and she ground against his groin as he feathered his lips over hers. “What happens in Daly stays in Daly.”

“I thought that was Vegas.”

“They stole it from us.”

“Oh yeah?”

He flicked open the button on her jeans. “Oh yeah. And right now, it’s just you and me. One man. One woman.”

After he helped her to stand again, he lowered her zipper and pushed her pants down her hips while she rested her hands on his shoulders. He knew she’d be able to feel the ridges from his scars through the cotton of his button-down shirt. Her fingers flexed rather than drawing away.

“How?” she asked, as she stepped free of her clothing.

He swallowed momentarily unable to answer as he looked at her clad in mere scraps of black lace that sharply contrasted her creamy white skin. He pulled her forward to straddle him again. His hand immediately slid into her panties, cupping her smooth ass and pulling her pussy tight to his aching cock. Moaning, she ground against him. Her flat belly and breasts brushed against him as she rode up and down the ridge. He suspected the rough placket over his zipper was making contact with her clit through her thin panties.

One of his hands pushed between them and covered her mound. Her wetness enveloped his fingers as he probed her folds, and satisfaction at her arousal triggered a primal response in him he’d thought long dead. She wanted him; there was no question.

Turning, he placed her against the pillows on the rumpled bed. Her long, sable-colored hair tumbled around her head in silken waves. Her eyes were deep, chocolaty pools of trouble. Her pale pink lips parted as she reached for him, and this time, as he leaned over her, he didn’t stop her as she moved to open the buttons of his shirt. He braced over her and remained still.

His eyes closed, and he tried to keep his face impassive as he waited for her to see the collision of scars from both burns and the metal that had clawed deep into the left side of his body. The damage hidden by his clothing was far worse