“He hurt you everywhere.”
He growled softly as she stroked, a deep rumble of pleasure, so she kept up the rhythm as she cleaned his wounds. His hair was long, just brushing his shoulders. Did he always wear it like that, or had it grown while he was in the dungeon? He had trimmed his beard after his shower, and although she’d never been a fan of facial hair, it suited him. Made his handsome face just a little more badass, hinted at the wildness in him, coiled tight and ready to spring. She would be a fool to forget it.
For now though, she had soothed the savage beast. She could feel the tension ease from his body, and when she ran her nails over his scalp, his growl of approval sounded almost like a purr.
“I like your tats.” She ran her hand gently along his right arm, and then down his left shoulder and along his ribs. “Did you get them all at once?”
He sighed, his body sinking into the bed. “Got the shoulder piece when I was in the street gang and the body piece when I was wanting to show the Sinners I was as badass as them. The sleeve I got with Tank when I got patched into the club. We got them together. Me on the right. Him on the left, so when we walked together we were like one person, not two. It was his idea. I couldn’t say no to him. If he’d wanted to get our faces tatted, I woulda done that, too.”
Laughing softly, she massaged his head again. She’d never had anyone to look after other than herself. Her mother was rarely alone and every time she overdosed, someone else called the ambulance. Naiya visited her in the hospital each time, wished she could feel something other than anger when the doctors said she was slowly killing herself, and one day her body wouldn’t be able to take it anymore. And when her mother was lucid enough to ask her to bring her drugs, she left desolate in the knowledge even the near-death experience hadn’t been enough to turn the tide. In the contest between Naiya and narcotics, the narcotics always won.
She felt safe now. Secure. Despite what she’d done to Holt, he hadn’t even raised his voice. And when he’d pulled out the chair and told her with only a grumble not to do it again, she carefully laid down the knife she had clenched in her hand, ready to defend herself if he flew into a rage. For the briefest of moments, she had allowed herself to wonder what would have happened if the kiss in the motel had been real.
Still lost in the daydream of that kiss, she leaned over and pressed her lips to the one section of untouched skin beneath his shoulder. “He missed this.”
Holt tensed beneath her, and she jerked away. “I’m sorry.”
He rolled to his back, seemingly unconcerned by the undressed wounds. “You kissed me.”
“I wasn’t thinking.”
“This morning, before you jabbed that needle into my arm, you kissed me.” He traced his thumb over the bow of her lips.
Naiya’s face heated and she crumpled the soft cotton bedspread in her hand. “I … needed to distract you.”
“Soft lips,” he whispered, his gaze searching her face.
She looked down, trembled, wanting more, afraid to ask. For years after that brutal night with Viper, she’d stayed away from men, and then she met Ally who had gently encouraged her to start dating again. Naiya had gone from one extreme to another, trying to reclaim herself by sleeping with as many men as she could to erase Viper’s mark on her soul. After that soul-destroying experience, she’d dated casually, men who were quiet and unthreatening. Men unlike Viper. Even then, intimacy had eluded her, as had the ability to enjoy sex. And when feelings began to emerge that she couldn’t understand, she ended it.
Holt pushed himself up and cupped her jaw with his hand, tilting her head back until she was lost in the depths of his piercing eyes, a blue so clear she thought she could see into his soul.
“Soft,” he murmured. “Sweet.”
Her heart pounded, blood thundering through her veins. She’d never felt desire like this, never let a man touch her in a way she hadn’t directed, never been held so firmly she could do nothing but stare. He’d already pushed her boundaries in the motel, and yet she sensed that was nothing compared to what would happen if she let him in. Despite her fear, she wanted to touch him, taste him, and make her fantasy real. Drawing in a shuddering breath, she leaned closer.
Holt’s fingers tightened on her jaw and his gaze dropped to her lips. Then he gently pushed her away and fell back on the bed with a groan. “Get out, darlin’. Go.”