Page 15 of Savior
“Are you really mad at me? I thought I held it together pretty well.” I shrug. She seems to study me now for a moment, the expression in her eyes shifting to something softer as she walks back to me.
“No. I’m not mad at you.” She quietly states, reaching her hands up to unbutton my shirt. I let her. Her hands slip inside and push the fabric apart, exposing my chest. Then her soft fingers lightly trace a few of the multiple thin scars across my flesh. Parting gifts from Jack to add to my collection. Her voice is even quieter when she tells me, “I don’t think I could ever be mad at you again.”
If only I could hold her to that…
“Baby,” I sigh, lifting my hand to gently grip her chin between my thumb and forefinger, tipping her face up to look at me. She shakes her head, fearful that I might bring up details of that night in the cabin. I won’t. It’s our unspoken agreement. Living through that nightmare ordeal once, was enough for us both.
“I just love you so much, Dean. There isn’t room in my heart to ever be truly mad at you.” Her warm hand presses against my chest, over my own heart, that beats solely for her.
I feel the exact same way about Vanna. I’m quite sure I could forgive her anything. And maybe now would be the perfect opportunity to bring up what I’ve been keeping from her for weeks… The truth about what Jason and I found in her old rental house.
I’m about to try again, when her hand slides up my chest to the base of my throat. Then up my neck and the back of my skull, until her fingers curl into my hair, gently pulling me to her for a kiss.
A hot kiss.
A kiss that conveys her love for me. That she burns for me, the way I burn for her. And just like that, plans change.
“Arms around my neck.” I growl against her lips.
“Huh?”
“You heard me.”
She does as she’s told, and I grab her behind her thighs just below her ass, hoisting her up. Instinctively she wraps her legs around my waist, letting out a little squeal at being lifted off the ground.
“You’re going to hurt yourself!” she protests.
Between Jack tearing her self-confidence down, and the way her mother obviously digs at her physique, I can’t help but wonder if Vanna doesn’t suffer from some kind of body dysmorphia disorder. She’s not skinny. Not by a long shot. But she isn’t nearly as big as she thinks she is, either. She’s fuckin’ perfect. Built for being thoroughly loved on and adored with reverence. And I’m all too eager to worship her with everything that I am.
“Stop that shit, Vanna.” I try not to glower at her. “I’m only taking you to the couch, anyway.” Gripping her sexy ass, I carry her into the living room to the leather three-seater in front of the fireplace.
“Is your leg alright?” she persists anyway.
“You ask me this every time now, Kitten. I’m healed. Been healed. Aside from scars, it’s as if nothing happened… Has my athleticism in the bedroom been lacking?”
“No… but why are we not taking this to the bedroom, now?” she looks at me, adorably perplexed.
“There’s a good chance your father’s gonna be sitting on this couch at some point tomorrow.”
“So?”
Her innocence tugs at my heart. It also has a way of making my balls ache. She can seem so pure at times. Sexy as sin, the very next moment. A quality of hers that drives men crazy. Drives me crazy.
My grin turns devilish at her now. “It’ll help me bite my tongue later, when he’s taking his digs at me… Knowing he’s at least sitting somewhere within close proximity, if not in theexact same place, I fucked the hell out of his daughter.”
Vanna’s eyes widen as her mouth pops open into a shocked little O, momentarily stunned by my admittedly spite driven, raunchy intentions. Her mouth clamps shut and her dark eyes narrow at me. A slight smile plays at her lips as I kneel onto the leather cushion, laying her back on the couch to hover over her.
“A rogue and a scoundrel!” She bites that plump bottom lip as she reaches up to slide her fingers beneath the fabric of my shirt, shoving it off my shoulders and down my arms. The tips of her soft fingers skim across my skin. I shrug out of the shirt and toss it somewhere on the living room floor, returning to hover over her, one hand on the leather cushion beside her head, the other on the back of the couch. Her eager hands move down my chest and abdomen, on to unbuckle my belt and undo my jeans, before they drop to undo her own. I watch her wriggle beneath me, shimmying her pants down her hips as she stares up at me, a playful gleam in her eyes. She giggles now, as her wiggling ceases.
“My mother was right. These damn pants are too tight.”
“Allow me, doll.” I move back to grip the waistband of her jeans and panties, tugging them down, peeling them off her legs, and tossing them onto the slate coffee table. Gripping her leg behind her knee, I push it up and rest her calf on the back of the couch, kissing her inner thigh as I watch her arch her back, lifting her top half just enough to yank her t-shirt off. She lets it fall to the floor beside us, lying back once more. The generous swells of her perfect breasts, nearly spilling out the top of her black, lacy bra. Her long, dark hair cascading off the edge of the leather cushion.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful, baby. Do you know that?” I trail kisses further down her soft, thick thigh, as I crouch lower onto the couch between her legs. As usual, she doesn’t answer me.
When I move up to press my face against her lower stomach, kissing her soft body, she tenses beneath me. Her hands interfering with the attention I’m giving what she sees as a flaw. I swirl my tongue around her belly button, then dip it inside. She tries to gently push my face away. I hold back a sigh.
“Does this tickle too much?” I ask, though I know there’s more to it than that.
