Page 82 of The Enemy Protector
"Don't be," I say. "I'm exactly where I want to be."
I want to touch him.The thought comes out of nowhere. I've never wanted to touch a man.
So I do. My fingers brush over the snake on his throat, the thing that started all of this, before drifting down to the tattoos over his heart. He goes very still.
He catches my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. The gesture is so tender it makes my chest ache.
"Tell me what you need," he says against my hand.
"I need you to keep talking. I need to hear your voice."
"Okay." He brushes his thumb across my knuckles. "I've got you."
He said that. In the alley. Those exact words. I didn't imagine them.
He reaches up slowly, giving me time to pull away. He cups my face in one hand, his other still holding mine.
Panic tears through me.
“Sofia.”
The panic thins.
I’m safe.
He leans down, his mouth hovering just above mine. “Tell me if this is too much.”
“It’s not,” I whisper.
“You have all the control here,” he says softly.
I nod.
Then his mouth finds mine.
The first touch is so careful I barely feel it. The next one is firmer. His lips press more fully to mine, and my breath catches.
It’s nothing like the kiss at our wedding. That one was for everyone else. This one is just for me.
I don’t mean to lean into him, but I do. My fingers tighten against him.
A rough sound catches in his throat. His hand slides from my face to my shoulder, then slowly down my arm, every movementdeliberate. Slow enough to stop him. Slow enough to remind me I can.
I don’t.
His mouth moves over mine again, still careful, but no longer distant. Heat unfurls low in my stomach. My body leans in before my mind catches up.
He starts to pull back just slightly, like he’s checking, and the tiny loss of warmth feels wrong enough that I follow him.
His hand tightens against my arm. “That’s it,” he murmurs against my mouth.
The next kiss lands even deeper. Not rough. Not demanding. Just sure enough to make my knees feel unsteady. I let myself sink into it. Let myself feel instead of think.
His hand slips to my waist, drawing me closer, and when his mouth moves against mine again, my lips part for him without even realizing I’ve done it.
“You’re trembling,” he says against my lips.
“I’m okay.”
