My heart pounds like a jackhammer in my chest. I press my face into the pillow and bite the edge of it. I have never, ever felt like this before. This is how I always imagined it would be, but I’d never found it. Of course, I’ve never been vulnerable with anyone before, either, and I’ve never let anyone see my scars.
His fingers stop their slow stroll when he skims across the bumpy scars on my stomach. Once again, I cover his hand and press him against me. Don’t stop, I will in my mind. It feels good. This feels so good. He feels so good. He kisses the side of my neck and nips the sensitive skin beneath my ear, then laves it with his tongue to soothe the sting.
With a gentle nudge at my shoulder, Ryan rolls me forward onto my belly a little and I turn my face toward the TV. But I’m not watching TV. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly and instead concentrate on the way he’s lifting the back of my shirt. His hand explores the ridges and bumps of my scars with gentle sweeps of his fingertips, soft rubs with the flat of his palm, and simple swipes of his thumb. He hooks a finger in my bra strap and tugs it, silently asking for my permission and then waiting to get it. I nod into my pillow. He groans as he unhooks my bra and pushes the straps to the side.
With gentle motions and solid rubs, Ryan soothes me and discombobulates me all at once. He’s gentle but firm, tender but harsh, soft but hard. His fingers find the muscles around my ribs and start to press a little harder. I moan. I can’t help it.
He chuckles. Does he know I did that?
I roll all the way onto my belly and tuck my arms under the pillow, holding on to it for dear life. Ryan throws a leg over my bottom and pushes my shirt higher. Then his lips join his hand. His breath is hot and humid, and his lips are soft and tender.
A slow burn begins to thrum between my thighs and I rock my hips into the sofa trying to ease the ache. Ryan keeps on exploring my back, leaving no inch untouched, no crease unexplored, no dip untried. No heart untouched.
With his gentle fingers and his questing lips, he’s offering me something no one ever has. He’s accepting my body, and me by extension, with no holds barred. He’s treating me like I’m made of glass, while letting me know he wants to see more of me, maybe even have more of me.
Suddenly, the light flips on above us. Ryan freezes, but only for a moment. Then he quickly and efficiently hooks my bra strap behind me and he pulls my shirt down. He sits up, and so do I.
Wren stands in the entryway, and she’s a wreck. Her makeup runs in dark rivulets down her face.
“I should go,” Ryan says to me.
I don’t want him to go, but I need to find out what’s wrong with Wren. She hasn’t been home since she left angry, and I have no idea where she’s been. But the last time she looked like this, it was because the asshole she had been seeing cheated on her.
“Wren,” I say. “What happened?”
She looks at Ryan and then at me, and then she stomps toward her room and slams her door.
“Is she okay?” Ryan asks. “Or do I need to go kick someone’s ass?” He looks down at me, his brow marred with worry.
It makes my heart expand two sizes to know that he would take care of one of my sisters, even though he doesn’t know her.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” I tell him. “I had better go see what’s wrong.”
“We didn’t finish the movie.” He tucks a lock of hair that has fallen down behind my ear.
“I know.”
“We didn’t finish a lot of things.” He grins.
A smile tugs at my lips as heat suffuses my face. “I know.”
He pulls me to him and I press my forehead against his chest, taking a moment to breathe him in. He smells like detergent and pure, unadulterated man.
Ryan squeezes my shoulders and then runs his cupped hands down my arms. Then he surprises the hell out of me when he lifts my arm and presses a kiss against the scars on my inner wrist. I try to pull out of his grasp, but he holds tight, his eyes meeting mine as his lips linger. He breathes me in, his warm mouth pressed against my skin.
“I had a lot of fun tonight,” he says.