Man of Honor (Battle Scars #3) - Diana Gardin Page 0,51
like a midday meal?
16
Mea
I’m ruining this. I’m so sure of it as I watch something in his eyes turn dark and tortured. He looks pained, like it’s hard for him to take a breath. My muscles, which have been frozen up until this point, allow me to move again and I make to remove myself from on top of him.
But his hands, so warm, so damn comforting, move to my hips to hold me to him. “I don’t want you to go anywhere, Mea. I want to know what you have to tell me.”
I search his face for any sign that he doesn’t really want to hear any in-depth descriptions of my own personal brand of crazy. But his face is nothing but determined, sincere, and fierce. I wish I knew what he’s thinking. What is he fierce about? What did I say that obviously physically hurt him?
It should be awkward, having a conversation with a man while you’re sitting naked on top of him. Or maybe it shouldn’t be, but it always would have been for me in the past. There’s nothing but comfort and warmth right now, sitting with Drake. His hands, cupping my face with thumbs rubbing my cheeks so tenderly, make me feel safe and secure. The hard swell of his erection beneath me reminds me that he wants me still, in spite of the talking we’ve been doing for the past few minutes. The intimate and intense burn of his gaze on my face makes me feel important and heard. Seen.
He sees me. That thought has my mind whirling in a thousand different directions. I tilt my head to one side, leaning into the roughness of his palm as I wonder, marvel, at this fact. No one, aside from my brother, has ever really seen me.
Not the way Drake does.
This feels important. Momentous, even. I’ve been trying for years to deny that the night with him even happened. I never thought I’d be telling Drake what it was that made me shut down that night. The one thing that made me decide I never wanted to see him again.
Taking a deep breath, I blurt it out. “I have rules.”
He blinks, his perplexity plain on his face. “Rules?”
An intense heat flushes my face as I continue. “When it comes to sex, I mean. I’m always the one to call the shots. I’ve never had sex within the confines of a relationship before. So I would always pick the guy. Make sure he fit my criteria, you know? And then I would tell him up front about the rules.”
Drake’s brow furrows as he tries to understand. “But you never told me about any rules, Mea.”
Groaning, I throw my head back. Drake’s hands settle on my shoulders, smoothing down the wrinkles of my agitation. “I know! That’s the thing. With you, it’s always been different. That day at the garage that we met, I was completely out of my element. That level of pure attraction that I felt toward you…it was something completely new to me and I had no idea how to handle it.”
Drake sits up. I bounce on his lap a bit, but he steadies me with his hands as he draws me closer to his chest. And that chest distracts me for a minute as my eyes rove with hungry interest over the hard muscles and sprinkling of dark hair.
“Electric. That’s how I always thought of it. It’s how it’s always been between us.” Drake moves his head around, trying to find my attention once more.
I bob my head in the affirmative, grateful that he understands. “Yeah, I guess it has, hasn’t it?”
My hair is all over the place, and Drake smooths the wild locks back from my face.
“You didn’t tell me your rules that night. Tell me now.”
Biting the corner of my bottom lip while I consider, I nod. As I talk, my heart rate picks up its rhythm, pounding an unforgiveable cadence against my ribs. “Um, I just have a few. First, I choose a guy who hasn’t been drinking.”
Drake’s eyes narrow right before a deep sense of shame pours out of his shocked gaze. I say nothing, only watch him as he takes this statement in. Finally, he nods, swallowing hard. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and it sounds like he choked on it when he speaks. “Go on.”
I sigh. “Next, I always provide protection. And the guy has to wear it.”