Page 53 of Bad Decisions & Back Roads

I smiled up at him.“You’re good at so many things, and such a good dad.”

His cheeks flushed.“I have things I need to say to you.”

Panic fluttered hard in my chest.Words were dangerous.Words could split me open in ways hands never could.

“How about not?”I tugged my shirt over my head.

I reached for the hem of his shirt, desperate to turn this into something simpler—heat, skin, hunger—anything but honesty.

He caught my wrist gently.Not stopping me.Just holding me there.

“Why are you rushing?”he asked, tender enough to undo me.

One hand covered mine where it rested on his belt.His other hand cradled my cheek, his eyes searching mine with quiet certainty.

“I’m not...”

“Do you think I’m looking at you and counting flaws?”he asked softly.“I’m not.I’m blown away by you.By the person you’ve become.”His thumb brushed my cheekbone.“I won’t lie to you.I’m also angry.”

I blinked up at him.

His jaw tightened.“I’m angry people hurt you.Angry they taught you to hide yourself.”His voice dropped, rough with emotion.“Angry you ran away and wouldn’t let me help.Angry you never reached out to tell me you were alive.But…Iseewho you are.”

The acceptance in his gaze seduced me.Never once had he looked at me like I was something to endure the way my ex had.

Whatever strange, unbreakable thing tied us together made me do what I’d never done with anyone else.I gave him all of me.Not carefully.Not prettily.Completely.

I stripped off my jeans and kicked away my shoes, standing bare beneath the warm light of the room with nowhere left to hide.No sheets to pull over myself.No darkness to soften my edges.No clever angle to disguise the places life had marked me.

Let him look.

Let him see I no longer had the flat stomach of a girl untouched by time and living.Let him see the freckles scattered everywhere the sun had kissed my skin.Let him see the pale ridge of scar tissue carved across my right side—jagged proof of the steer that took advantage of my distraction and sent me straight to an operating table.

Let him see every imperfect inch.And choose what he thought of it.

His gaze moved over me—not quick, not greedy, not cruelly assessing—but slowly, thoroughly, like he was taking in something rare enough to leave him breathless.He didn’t flinch.Nor was there a shadow of disappointment.

Only hunger threaded tight with something deeper that made my chest ache showed on his face.Only the quiet devastation of a man being trusted with something fragile.Somehow, beneath that gaze, every sharp little insecurity inside me went still.I didn’t feel exposed.I felt seen.

“Can I touch you now?”His voice came out rough with restraint.

My throat tightened.I nodded.

His hands… God, his hands were almost too gentle when they stroked the curve of my jaw and then traced my face.His touch wandered down my neck, caressing the skin and savoring every inch.He watched the path of his hands until he cupped my breasts.

“These are very wicked.”He chuckled.

“They’ve never tried toattackanyone else.”

Then he took one nipple into the warmth of his mouth and stroked the other with his thumb.

I leaned against the wall and tried to stay on my feet while his mouth widened over my breast, sucking aggressively, and his other hand slid down and palmed my butt.He swiped his hand around, sliding a finger inside me easily, stroking.He continued the torture until I was panting, desperate, ready to actually rip clothes to get him naked too.

He kissed me so thoroughly that I barely noticed him walking me to the bed.I was startled when my knees hit the edge of it, almost missed him lifting me onto the mattress.I didn’t miss when he shed his shirt.Finally…

Delirious with the need to touch each other everywhere, our kisses turned more savage, born of a desire too long denied.It changed to something less sweet and more desperate.I managed to undo his jeans and got him to kick out of them.My hands twisted in his hair.

“Wait.”He pulled back when I tried to press into him.“I want this slower.”