DELIVER(56)

“I wasn’t like this before I met you.” He laughed. It was kind of true.

“Bullshit. You just wore a jockstrap to keep your endless boners tucked away.”

“Actually—” he puffed his chest defensively “—I tucked it into the waistband of my briefs.”

A laugh bubbled from her, and she tossed the last of the ropes on the floor. “Let’s take a shower, you dirty boy.”

Showering with her was a thrilling mix of gratification and torture. He knelt at her feet, caressing soap along the contours of her slender body. Every curve he stroked reminded him how desperately he wanted her. His breaths quickened, and his hands lingered on her inner thighs, his erection oh-so painfully aware of her naked proximity.

His fingers ached with the need to touch her breasts. So he did with a lather of bubbles and a devoted hand. He was in love with her body, the perfect size of her chest, the dramatic dip of her waist, the pink flesh between her legs. Simply watching her stirred a shiver of pleasure through his groin and a fluttering feeling near his heart.

There was nowhere in the world he’d rather be than on his knees, worshiping her body. It felt…right. The thought should’ve made his blood run cold. Instead, it flooded his chest with a fulfilling warmth.

When they finished the shower, they turned off the lights and collapsed on the mattress.

He pulled her back to his chest and hooked an arm around her waist, her clean minty scent clearing his head. He’d become accustomed to her nudity, but with both of them bare in this position, it felt new, intense. Her belly warm beneath his hand, her feet sliding over his shins, he couldn’t quiet the endless stirring he felt in her presence.

“You’re hard.” There was a smile in her voice.

“You’re naked. And I’m going to burn in hell.”

Her musical laugh lifted through the darkness. “For snuggling with the devil?”

“The devil with the voice and heart of an angel.” He buried his nose in the soft damp strands of her hair. “I want you so damned much, Liv.”

The curve of her body along the length of his lay motionless, unresponsive.

How many times had a captive made the same declaration to her? Damn his big mouth. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to—”

“You don’t want me.” Her whisper cracked. “You want…someone who deserves you.”

An ache tightened his chest. He heard her. Not her words but her. For a fraction of a moment, he heard the girl he’d been searching for. The girl who yearned to be loved. “Will you do something for me?”

She tensed against him.

He caressed his hand from her belly to her breastbone and settled it over the galloping beat of her heart. “When it’s just you and me, lose all those guarded layers. Let me see you.” He raised up on his elbow and strained his eyes through the dark to make out the outline of her face. “Don’t hide this from me.” He tapped the spot over her heart.

A noise hitched in her throat. “It’s ugly in there, decayed by lies and shame, endlessly bleeding for all the lives I’ve ruined. You’re the eighth reason I don’t deserve affection.”

Eight slaves worth of guilt. He wanted to ask where they were, if she could trace their buyers. But those questions would derail the conversation and dredge up the one thing they hadn’t discussed. His future. “That’s not who you are, Liv.”

“Don’t do this.”

The anguish in her whisper gutted him. He pushed through it. “Don’t do what?”

“Don’t make me feel things for you.” Her voice rattled. “It will end badly.”

So much fear and hurt. He wanted to take it from her, longed to heal her. But she needed to open herself up and let him in. “You think having feelings for someone puts them in danger?” He was in danger whether she cared for him or not.

Her breaths quickened.

“Did you have a relationship with any of the others?” Had she fallen for a captive and sold him into slavery? No amount of praying could have prepared him for the answer.

“I’ve never been in love.” A weighted exhale. “And I’ve only had sex with one person in my life.”

His pulse spiked. She’d told him her original buyer hadn’t touched her before he tested and rejected her, but the rest? No sex with slaves? No dating between captives? Maybe he should’ve been relieved, but all he could feel was outrage. The only intimacy she’d known was with a person who coerced her, raped her, and beat her. “Do not let him dictate your self-worth, Liv.”

Her entire body went rigid. “Do not preach your self-righteous bullshit. This is not a therapy session.”

Though her reaction made his hands curl into fists, he knew he’d plucked a nerve. It was progress. With regard to her irritation, he could fix that.

He rolled her to her back and took her mouth, tasting the mint of her toothpaste, relishing the instant stretch of her jaw. She welcomed him with a heated gasp and a teasing tongue, swirling and whipping and stealing his breaths. He ran his hands down her arms, up her ribs, lifting and kneading the fullness of her breasts.

She licked and sucked his lips, shooting tingles across his skin. Her fingertips grazed the arch of his butt and brushed a trail of warmth along his spine. Each of her caresses, every breath of her attention, flowed through him and settled between his legs, aching, hardening, needing. Too soon, she tried to lean back and break the kiss.