so he doesn’t have to tug on my arms. He pats me dry and his fingers brush down the side of my neck. I’m blushing fiercely.
“I like this,” he says, talking about the pink tint spreading down to my chest. “I like that I get a reaction like this out of you.” He places a soft kiss against the feverish skin, then wraps me in the towel. “Let me get you some fresh clothes and then we will settle you in bed again.”
Even though he just bathed me, every time he picks me up, I can smell the sweat and wood all over his skin, getting me dirty all over again. He sets me on the bed and walks to the closest, grabs another button-up shirt so it’s easy to remove for my bandage, and then a pair of panties.
In his large hand they look like pieces of scrap material.
I’m in the same spot he left me in. When he is in front of me, I lift my chin so I can see his handsome face. I have the luxury of seeing his body at this angle. It’s sculpted out of the hardest rock known to man. It has to be. The swell of his pecs show the strength in his chest, and his abs are hard ridges and valleys.
All eight of them.
I outline the ‘Unscarred’ tattoo again, loving how his stomach trembles from my touch. “Comet,” the name is shaking on a staggering breath. That beastly rumble in his chest has me looking down to see his cock hard beneath the prison of his jeans.
How does it fit inside me?
His hand tugs the towel free, his fingers teasing the curve of my breast. I gasp as the towel falls onto the bed and the air wraps around my nipples.
Instead of laying me down, he slides one arm through one sleeve and does the same with the other. “Tongue—”
“I won’t fuck you when you’re clearly in pain. I see it written all over your face.” He begins to button the shirt from the bottom to the top. He leaves two unbuttoned at the top, so the shirt doesn’t rub against my wound. He kneels, coasting his palms up the sides of my leg. Goosebumps arise all over my body, and my nipples tighten even further, something I didn’t know was possible.
When he gets to my thighs, his fingers dig into my skin and yanks them open. He lifts one leg, loops the panties around my ankle, and proceeds to repeat the motion for the other. He tugs them up and I lift myself off the bed so he can pull them up my butt.
Puffs of hot air coast over my pussy with how close his lips are to me. “I can smell how sweet you are for me,” he moans, burying his face between my legs and inhaling the scent he loves. The blunt edges of his nails pierce my skin and a sharp breath chokes me.
Holy Moly.
I want him.
“You test me, and in these moments, I do not want to be a good man.” He lays his head on my thighs and my hands drift over his inky strands, then down his back. He is warm and tense, hanging on by a thread, and I want to cut that thread in half.
It’s so tempting.
He stands slowly, dragging his nose up my body until he kisses the middle of my chest, works his way to my neck, and then his wide palm cups my cheek. I’m dizzy again, but not from pain, from him taking over my senses.
His lips slant over mine, and a slow dance of a kiss serenades my heat. I love his hand against my jaw, a gesture of how strong he is, how big his palm is compared to me, and how he controls the way our heads move for the kiss.
Control is Tongue’s anchor. If he doesn’t have that, he feels like he doesn’t have anything to bind him to the world without him becoming a bloodthirsty killer.
“Come on, let’s get you back to bed.” Tongue pulls away, the magnetism between us pulling tight as he breaks our kiss.
I’m high on our kiss, dazed, and I can hardly feel the pain in my chest. It’s a low throb compared the aching between my legs.
He tugs me around the bed, and I follow like a helpless puppy. I lay down and he hooks my IV up again.
“Doc filled these for me, so all I had to