Page 119 of Get Me to the Starting Line
I don’t want her saying another man’s name when her legs are around me, but I tamp down the urge to growl, to tear his name from her tongue and kiss her until it’s only mine she remembers.
Instead, I ask slowly, drawing out the syllables, “Okay?”
She huffs. But the vulnerability is back.
“He was my first but I wasn’t his, and he made a few comments.”
I’m going to kick this motherfucker’s ass.
“What kind of comments?” Can she hear the anger? Can she tell I’m ready to drive straight to the airport and fly back to Vancouver to beat the shit out of him?
“Sex, it’s ... it’s not something I’m good at.”
I see red. For a few seconds, I’m frozen with rage. But her eyes can’t stay fixed on my face, and her vulnerability keeps me there with her. She’s more important. I can deal with her ex later.
“Leah, I have never wanted anyone the way I want you. And I can tell you right now”—I press myself against her, letting her feel how much I need her—“there’s no fucking way this will be anything less than perfect.”
“I have scars,” she blurts out as if it’s a defect. A strike against her. I’m about to speak, but she keeps going. “I’m probably not like the women you’re used to. I’m not tall or skinny. I’m an average woman.” Again, she says it like it’s a defect.
I make sure she’s looking right into my eyes before I speak.
“You are beautiful,” I say, kissing her softly. “And strong.” Another kiss. “And so fucking selfless it borderlines on pathological.” Another kiss, and this time I feel her lips curl.
“Your scars show how much you’ve survived.” I sweep my tongue into her mouth, leaving both of us breathless.
“It’s not just from my accident though, I have stretch marks and—”
I kiss her again, sliding my hands up her shirt, pulling her against me. She keeps her legs wrapped around me while I carry her to thebed, not breaking the kiss. I dump her on the mattress abruptly and she bounces a little, a laugh bubbling up from her lips.
She’s the most intoxicating woman I’ve ever met.
The bed dips as I lean over her, bracing my hands on either side of her head.
“Let me show you,” I insist. The laughter stops as she takes me in.
“Show me what?” she breathes.
“How beautiful you are to me.”
Iwaitforherto nod and when I get her confirmation, I ease her to sitting and peel the shirt from her body. Her breasts are full and peaked. My mouth waters, wanting to taste them, tease them. But I don’t—not yet.
The lines of her body are soft, curved. There are small indents where the muscles underneath show through, where her waist dips in before flaring out.
I rake my eyes back up to meet hers. I’m so glad this hotel has enormous beds so when I’m standing, I’m not towering over her. Her breathy inhale makes my cock throb as I lift her hips and ease her bottoms off. She’s finally bare before me, a flush rising on her skin as I stare at her, dumbstruck.
“So fucking beautiful,” I whisper when I can manage to speak.
I run my hands up her calves, the first spot where I was lucky enough to feel her skin. My hands trail up her thighs and over the curve of her hips. The soft skin gives way under my touch, and I have to take a deep breath,willing my body to slow down.
With a firm grip, I push her back so she’s lying fully on the bed, and I crawl in beside her to resume exploring her delicious body.
I drag the back of my hand over the outside curve of her breast, and she moans with impatience, her body searching for release.
Not yet.
I’m not even close to giving her what she wants. I haven’t had my fill yet. And I will not go any further until she no longer questions how perfect she is.
I lean down and place a kiss on a scar on the side of her ribs.
