RHODES
The storm cloudsrolled through Anson’s eyes as I waited, blue and gray battling for dominance. He needed both, the shadow and the light, just like I’d said. But right now, I prayed the blue won and those flickers of life took hold.
“You make me want to reach for things I thought were dead and buried. You make mefeelagain,” Anson said, his hand gliding up my thigh to my waist. “Even if it’s pissing me the hell off.”
A laugh bubbled out of me. “Sometimes, we need a little anger to remind us there are still things we care about.”
Anson’s fingers slipped under my T-shirt, sliding across the bare skin of my belly. “I care about you, Rho. I didn’t want to, but I didn’t have a choice.”
I scowled down at him, and Anson burst out laughing. God, the sound was beautiful. Rich and deep with a rasp that had goose bumps rising on my skin in a way that told me all my nerve endings were paying attention.
“You know,” I began, my fingers tracing a figure eight overAnson’s heart, “some people might take exception to you saying that you didn’twantto care about them.”
He grinned, his teeth a flash of white in the low light as his hand skimmed higher, playing over my rib cage. “Or you could take it as a compliment. Not just anyone could smash through those walls.”
Warmth spread through me at that, a buzzy heat intensified by Anson’s exploring fingers. “But you have to want me there now,” I said softly, fear edging into my words. I wouldn’t force this on him. He had to want me to stay.
Anson’s eyes sparked. “Here is the only place I want you. And the only place I want to be.”
His hand skated higher, palming my breast. He groaned. “What is it with you and no underwear?”
I started to laugh, but it died in my throat as Anson found my nipple, his roughened thumb circling. My lips parted on a quick inhale. “Why would I wear the torture device that is a bra when I’m in my own home?”
“Fair point,” Anson said, his voice deepening.
It seemed he wasn’t in any rush, content to just revel in the feel of me. I arched deeper into his hand, needing more pressure, more contact.
“Even your skin’s responsive,” he murmured, transfixed. He skated a fingertip over the swell of my breast. “The way it pebbles when you like something.” His thumb swiped around my nipple again. “The way it tightens, trying to get closer.”
My breaths came quicker—short, staccato pants.
“I could watch your body react for hours on end just to figure out the pattern.”
I stared down at him. “Profiling me?”
Anson chuckled, low and throaty. “Maybe. I could get behind this sort of breakdown.” He stared at his hand working beneath my tee. “Do you like this?”
He kneaded my breast, not too hard, but not too soft. The kind of pressure that made you sit up and pay attention.
“Or this?”
His thumb and forefinger twisted my nipple.
A gasp left my lips as I rocked my hips against his on instinct.
“She likes a little pain with her pleasure,” Anson growled.
I licked my lips, which suddenly felt as dry as a desert. “It’s always that delicate balance, isn’t it? The pain drives the pleasure higher.”
Anson’s hand slipped from mine, and he grabbed the hem of my T-shirt, pulling it up and over my head and sending it floating to the floor. “Wouldn’t mind exploring that with you.”
The cool night air sweeping in through an open window only made my body feel hotter, the juxtaposition acute.
Anson simply stared at me, taking in every detail. His fingertips traced over my breast and down my sternum. He took a detour to my side, tracing the scars the fire had left behind. “Your beauty scalds, Reckless. Anyone who’s ever had the pleasure of looking at you will never be the same.”
Breath caught in my throat. “Anson.”
“Everything about you is made to burn into a man’s brain. And I’ll never get tired of staring.” He rose, coming closer. “Or tasting.”
