Beneath the Scars (Masters of the Shadowlands #13)(86)

He retrieved her beer for her, picked up his, put his arm around her shoulders, and set the swing to rocking slowly. “Where’s Carson today?”

“How’d you know he wasn’t here?”

“No light in his room. No music from the house.” Holt ran his hand up and down her arm, leaving tingles behind. “It’s a good thing I approve of his taste in music…mostly. At least he likes Green Day and Linkin Park.”

“Sorry if he gets too loud. We’ve battled about the volume.” She still considered the music too loud, and Carson was convinced he’d gotten the worst of the deal. She took a sip of her beer. “Anyway, it’s school vacation, and I let him spend the night with a friend.”

“The whole night?”

The darkly masculine question made her mouth go dry.

A smile curved his lips.

She swallowed hard.

Then he tucked the hunger away and tugged a strand of her hair teasingly. “Don’t worry, pet. I thoroughly enjoyed having sex with you, but if you’re not ready to play privately, it’s all right. I don’t want you worried that having an empty house will mean your neighbor puts the moves on you.”

She hadn’t even gotten to that worry, and he’d eased it.

He wanted her…and backed off to keep from making her nervous.

She leaned her head back against his upper arm. Each breath carried his clean scent. Each gentle slide of his fingers through her hair sent quivery chills along her skin. She wanted to ask him questions, just to hear his whisky-smooth voice.

“Josie?” He set his beer down and lifted her chin. “What’s going through your head?”

I love you. No, that wasn’t something she’d say. Probably not ever. But tonight could be hers and she could be honest about that. “I want you.”

He chuckled. “I do know that, pet. But are you ready to show me your bedroom? Otherwise we can sit out here and enjoy ourselves in a less…compre-hensive…fashion.”

Comprehensive sounded perfect. She wanted his hands on her. All over. And wanted to touch him in return.

In answer, she wrapped her fingers around his hand and rose. “You never got to see all of the house. Let me show you.”


She was a brave one, wasn’t she? As she led him into the bedroom, Holt could feel her nervousness, hear it in the heightened Texas drawl. It made him want to pull her into his arms and say there, there.

When she stopped in the center of her bedroom and looked up at him with those wide eyes, he nearly told her to get used to having him around. Whether she realized it or not, he planned to keep her. When she’d comforted him tonight, she’d sealed her fate.

“Um. This is my bedroom.”

He glanced around the shadowy room, knowing she was too nervous to turn on the lights. Well, he’d give her that option…this time…but eventually, he intended to see her orgasming when the lights were on.

The heavy wooden bed and nightstands didn’t match, were probably secondhand since her budget would be tight. Yet it was a treat to see she’d indulged her romantic nature with Arthur Rackham’s fairy prints and blue satiny, lacy bedding.

She’d look lovely in that bedding.

After a visible breath, she straightened her shoulders and grasped his T-shirt. Started to lift the hem.

The action—and the sweet vulnerability in her gaze—drew out the Dom in him. Rather than cooperating, he took her wrists and crossed them behind her back. “I want your arms to stay right there until I tell you differently,” he murmured.

The way her mouth dropped open made him grin.

“I did mention that dominance occurs outside of the club, didn’t I?” He ran his hands through her hair, ruffling the silky strands until she looked like an annoyed Tinkerbelle. He kissed her temple, her cheek, then tangled his fingers in her hair and used it to pull her head back so he could pillage her mouth. Fuck, she had a kissable mouth.

Releasing her…slowly…he stepped back.

More light would be better. Flicking on the master bath light, he closed the door partially and did the same in the hallway. Enough so he could assess her responses but not enough to make her feel awkward. Eventually—if he kept her naked often enough in the Shadowlands—she’d learn to be more comfortable in her own skin.

And she had lovely, pale skin with golden freckles spattered over her arms, shoulders, and cheeks.

He walked back to stand in front of her and look down into her big eyes.

“You didn’t move. That’s a very good girl.” He ran the backs of his knuckles over her washed-to-thinness white shirt and felt her nipples rise to hard peaks. No bra. His cock thickened painfully.

With slow movements, he undid the first button on the shirt. Kissed her jaw.

Undid the next button. Kissed her neck. She’d showered within the last hour or so…and she smelled like tropical flowers—a Florida woman with a Texas accent.

Courageous and vulnerable. Practical and romantic…yet didn’t believe in love.

The next button. He pushed the shirt back far enough to nuzzle the sweet curving junction of shoulder and neck.

Her breathing deepened.

The next button. The hollow between her breasts had a muskier scent.

She started to tremble. Shifted her weight.

“Don’t move,” he cautioned and felt her shiver at the sound of his voice.