always elicited growing stronger just beneath his skin. It buzzed through his veins, causing every molecule to quicken inside him. It felt good. God, it felt good. He lowered his mouth, brushing it softly against hers. “Do you want this?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I want this. I want you.”
His heart sped, body hardening. He let out a pent-up breath of need. “You’re sure?”
She let out a gentle laugh, but it quickly faded. She brought her hand to his forehead, moving a lock of hair aside. “Yes, I’m very sure,” she said tenderly, obviously understanding why her consent was so vital to him. He’d seen the opposite, portrayed as natural when it was anything but. The trauma still lived within him.
She went up on her tiptoes, kissing his forehead, her lips lingering there. “Take me to bed, Camden.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Camden held her face tenderly in his hands as he came over her, pressing his naked skin to hers. Scarlett stared up at him, mouth parted, eyes wide and searching, so beautiful she stole his breath from his body. He groaned, bringing his mouth to hers, the heat of his hardness pressing against the silken skin of her stomach. He kissed her, slowly, tenderly, their tongues dueling sweetly as her thighs came around his hips. He felt his self-control dwindling and struggled to secure his grasp. She made him feel like liquid inside.
As if she sensed his effort, she broke from his mouth, running a thumb over his bottom lip as she gazed up into his eyes. “Let go,” she said, her voice breathy. “I want you to let go, Camden. Please.”
His heart swelled. This woman. This woman seemed to know him, to read his fear and his struggle. To understand that, for him, sex could hold pitfalls, ambivalence, and doubt. His introduction had been anything but natural. He wanted to find out who he was, to explore his desires, to feel safe enough to do so, known, and that had never been a possibility before now because he’d never shared his secrets with a woman. Instead, he’d struggled along, having a few emotionally unsatisfying experiences before he’d moved back to Farrow, always half there, as though he watched his body from the outside, observing, but never truly participating.
Camden didn’t feel that way now.
He felt intensely present, almost overwhelmingly so. This slender, delicate woman made him weak in the knees and the thought made him want to smile.
Scarlett opened her eyes wide and looked at him, her expression filled with trust. It honored him, that trust. It helped him relax, helped him give in to the lust rising inside him like a tidal wave.
Camden leaned up, looking down where his hand rested on her naked thigh. “A heart,” he said, running his thumb over her birthmark. “It looks like a heart.”
She laughed softly and he raised his head, his lips meeting hers.
He kissed her and it wasn’t tentative, it was wild and warm and wet. Just like those moments spent with her at the stream, everything about it was sweet and right. Her thighs gripped him tightly, bringing their cores closer and the wave rose higher. There was nothing but her, the taste of her on his tongue, the soft scent of her skin. Wildflowers and rain. And God, he wanted to make this good for her too. He wanted this to mean as much to Scarlett as it did to him.
After all, she’d been mistreated as well. She’d been used and lied to. And then abandoned. She deserved to feel cherished.
He’d been taught what was holy and what was not, the idea of unmerciful divinity drummed into him like a gong ringing constantly in his head. Loud. Brutal. But none of those teachings had ever felt true, not in his gut, not in his soul. Because Camden had sat in silence in the shaded woods, listening to the peaceful trickle of water. He’d seen the miraculous unfolding of a brand-new day. He’d held innocent life in his hands and watched as it first floundered, then healed, finally flying away in a rapturous flapping of wings, rising into the open sky. He knew what was holy because his heart had told him, and he had listened to its soft singing.
He felt that holiness now, as this beautiful woman trustingly and wholeheartedly offered him her body—and her heart.
He brought his hand to her breast, teasing the nipple with his thumb until she moaned and arched and breathed his name, his own breath coming