Scared to let him event attempt to touch me. Which is why I’ve been putting out the vibes to not try it.
Scared that I'll completely break down emotionally if I think too much about what Tommy said before I was taken out of there.
But this? I need it more than I ever believed. I need to feel close to Devil again, need to feel like myself.
The kiss is soft at first, tentative, like we're both afraid I might break. But then Devil's hand slides into my hair, cupping the curve of my skull, and I deepen the kiss, pouring three weeks of fear and longing and desperate need into it.
He groans against my mouth, his other hand settling on my lower back, pulling me closer. I can feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of my tank top, and suddenly I need more. I need to feel alive, to feel something other than the constant fear that's been my companion. My nipples peak as I rub against his warm strength.
My hands explore the broad expanse of his chest, fingers tracing the intricate tattoos that cover his skin. He's beautiful in the moonlight, all hard muscle and ink, but there's a gentleness in the way he touches me that makes my heart race for entirely different reasons.
"Dani," he breathes against my lips, and I can hear the question in his voice.
Instead of answering, I kiss him again, harder this time, throwing myself into it. My hands slide down to the waistband of his boxer-briefs, and I feel him tense beneath me. His cock is hard and pointing upward toward the band, begging to be released.
"Are you sure?" he asks, pulling back just enough to search my face.
I nod, leaning down to kiss along his jawline, tasting the salt of his skin. "I need this," I whisper against his throat. "I need you."
His hands roam over my back, and I arch into his touch. For the first time in weeks, I feel like myself again—not the broken, frightened woman who came home covered in bruises, but the woman who fell in love with the tatted and dangerous man beneath me.
Devil's fingers find the hem of my tank top, and he starts to lift it slowly, giving me time to change my mind. But I don't want to change my mind. I want to lose myself in him, to forget everything except the way he makes me feel. The way he can make my heart thud against my chest, and the love that seems to radiate from his eyes.
The cool air hits my skin as he pulls the fabric over my head, and I see his eyes darken as he takes me in. His hands settle on my waist, thumbs tracing small circles against my skin.
"God, you're so beautiful," he murmurs, and I can hear the reverence in his voice. Leaning forward, he closes his lips around my taut nipple and runs his tongue along the peaked flesh before sucking fiercely.
Throwing my head back, I press my body into him, but as I do, his hand shifts slightly, pressing against my ribs. Pain shoots through me, sharp and unexpected, and I gasp, pulling back instinctively.
"Shit," Devil says immediately, his hands flying to my face, tilting my chin so that his eyes meet mine. "Did I hurt you? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."
"It's okay," I say quickly, but the concern is already there. The moment is broken, and I feel the familiar shame creeping back in.
"No, it's not okay," he says firmly. "I should have been more careful. Your ribs are still healing."
I try to lean down again, to recapture what we had, but he gently stops me with his hands on my shoulders, before moving them around to my cheeks. His rough palms are warm, and I close my eyes to revel in the attention.
"Dani, look at me."
Reluctantly, I meet his gaze.
"We don't have to do this," he says softly. "Not until you're ready. Not until you're healed, mentally and physically."
"But I am ready," I protest, even as my ribs throb with each breath, and tears pool in my eyes. "I want this. I want you."
His thumb traces over my bottom lip, and there's so much love in his eyes that it takes my breath away.
"And I want you too," he whispers. "More than you know. But not like this. Not when you're still in pain."
I want to argue, but I know he's right. My body is still recovering, still bearing the marks of what happened to me. I close my eyes, feeling the weight of disappointment and frustration. Not from him, but from myself.
"Hey," Devil says gently, causing me to open my eyes. "Come the fuck over here."
He pulls me down so I'm lying beside him, my head on his shoulder. His arms wrap around me carefully, avoiding my tender ribs.
"I love you," he says quietly, and the words hit me, the tears spilling over. "I love you so much it scares me sometimes. And I need you to know that nothing, not a damn thing, is going to change that."
My heart clenches at his words. I want to tell him I love him too, but Tommy's words keep echoing in my head. The doubt, the fear, the terrible possibility that everything I thought I knew about Devil might be a lie.
