Jori’s hands moved to his shoulders and gripped hard. He had worked her shirt up so that she felt cool air against her bare midriff. Then he grasped her with both hands just above her waist. His thumbs massaged her ribs just below the cups of her bra, then slipped up into the spaces left as she gasped in response to his touch. Once inside, his thumbs skimmed the soft undercurves of her breasts.
His kisses went roaming, leaving her mouth to trail across her cheek, whiskers tickling her, until he reached her ear. He sighed into it and then licked the center.
Jori jumped in shock at the touch of that warm wet tongue. But his hands were moving again, skimming her shirt up and over her head.
Law stepped back a little to better see what he had revealed. One of his slightly abrasive fingers skimmed along the top of her bra from side to side, then hooked into the low point. Grinning, he drew her in by it and kissed her, hard and quick before releasing her.
“Turn around.”
When she had, bracing her hands against the wall, Jori felt him move in behind her until the proof of his interest in the main event was pressing into her backside. His hands slid up her back until they could work the hooks of her bra.
It surprised her that he didn’t just jerk them open in his eagerness to see what lay beneath. Instead, he took his time, releasing each hook separately, as if each were a little present not to be missed. It was an excruciating tease as he paused after the second hook to run a finger under one strap and then the other, lifting them up and sliding each off the curve of her shoulders to hang loose along her arms. It was a delicate act for so powerful a man and it made her aware that he was enjoying this as much as she was. Finally, he unhooked the last catch.
She caught the bra against herself. His hands went about her waist once more but he didn’t turn her around. The shock of his tongue, warm and sinuous between her shoulder blades, made her gasp. Her nipples beaded up behind her hands as he slowly traced her spine with his tongue. No man had ever done anything quite like that, so simple yet so intimate, as if he was enjoying her whole body. Not just eager for the main attraction.
The shocking heat of her own arousal melted her knees. In another second she’d be sliding toward the floor. But he seemed to sense that weakness and quickly spun her around. When she faced him, she dropped her hands, watching his face as the bra straps sailed down her arms and off her fingertips.
He stilled, the features of his face rigid as he looked his fill.
When his eyes came back to hers, Jori held his simmering stare. The intensity of that serious golden gaze weighed like sunshine on her face. In response, a bead of sweat worked its way down between her breasts, trembling with each breath she took. She closed her eyes, the better to pretend that it was Battise’s tongue tracing that damp trail down her torso. The thought made her arch her back and take a deep breath, which thrust her breasts forward. Slowly, she let it out between parted lips.
Watching that slick of sweat surf her cleavage, Law’s mouth went dry and then flooded back, so that he had to swallow before he could breathe. Unable to resist, he leaned forward to catch the salty drop on his tongue just before it reached her belly button. The knot in his cock doubled down.
With a rough groan of intent, he stripped off his shirt, tossed it aside, and reached for her with both hands.
But Jori moved to hold him away with a palm flat against his sternum. It was her turn to look. He went still as stone, his expression again as guarded as it had been every other time they’d gazed at each other. She held that daunting expression a beat and then lowered her gaze.
He was beautifully made. Powerful shoulders flowed into smoothly sculptured pecs beneath a trace of dark hair. The ripples of his abs were like the pattern water made on a beach as the tide ebbed. Besides the unusual tattoo circling his left biceps—something she wanted to ask about but didn’t dare—there were other markings. Things that made her breath hiss inward between parted lips.
A scattering of scars, some smooth and others puckered, marred the perfection of his lower torso. The scar she’d seen from the back that morning in the parking lot now revealed itself as wrapping forward over his left hip before disappearing into the pants riding low on his hips. There was a patch of skin grafting the size of her palm to the left of his belly button. Heavier scars disappeared into the waistband.
She blinked twice before lifting a misty troubled gaze to his. The keep out sign was back in his eyes.
“The scars bother you?”
“Of course.” Jori wanted to touch but his expression revoked her permission. “You’ve suffered so much.”
“That was long ago.” He said the words carefully, but the rough edge of those last words told her that long ago still occasionally roared back with disturbing clarity. Samantha was proof of that.
He back-stepped, palms going up in surrender. “If you find me ugly—”
“No!” She took a step toward him, but he backed up again.
His lids shuddered down. “My equipment’s all original and in working order. If that’s what’s worrying you.”