Losing Track (Living Heartwood #2)(78)

With a grunt, he steps over the edge of the tub and settles down in the water.

“Too hot?” I ask, already adjusting the temperature.

He shakes his head. He doesn’t say anything, but I’m frightened that his pain is too intense. I rush toward the closet and dig out a clean washcloth from the jumble of linens.

When I turn around, Boone’s gaze is hard on me. “I want you in here with me.”





Boone

And I burn, lit by your torch



MELODY STANDS FROZEN IN place, washcloth in hand. Her eyes leveling me with a knowing look.

From the moment she first touched me in this tiny ass bathroom, I’ve been counting down the seconds until I combust. Every nerve ending in my body is screaming in pain, but it’s a distant roar compared the desire to touch her soft skin. Taste her sweetness. Feel her body against mine.

I rise from the tub, my legs aching, but I’ll go to her if she makes me wait any longer.

She swallows and licks her lips, and I curl my hands into fists.

I’ve never begged for anything.

Ever.

But if she doesn’t touch me right now, this second… I’ll fall to my knees. And dare her to give me just one look that says she’s mine.

“You’re hurting,” she says.

“I don’t care.” And I don’t. After suffering these past few days without her, not knowing if I ran her off forever, whether or not she despised me…not knowing if she was high, lost, in trouble—I have to touch her, make sure she’s real, and that she knows just how much I’m going to try for us.

I’m scared as hell. Worried that when I kiss her again, I’ll picture Hunter’s face. Pale and empty of life. The self-loathing I feel for myself for not being there to protect him has crippled me, and I may botch this whole thing to hell.

But for her, I’m willing to do anything to be the man she needs. The one who can hold her and not flinch. Be strong enough that, when she shakes with need for a fix, will rub her calves, soothing away the raw ache.

When she pangs with need, I want to fill her physically and emotionally; remove her mind so far from the addiction she feels safe to lose herself, trusting me to be the one to take her away.

I’m not a fool. I know it’s dangerous to trade one addiction for another, and I’m not so conceited to think I could even be that for her—but I’m damn stubborn enough to refuse to let this woman slip through my fingers again.

She takes one small, hesitant step forward, and it’s all I need. I’m out of the tub and rushing toward her. I pull her body against mine and lower my head, my lips crush hers.

Despite my swollen fingers, I work the button of her jeans open. My hands in a rush to remove every article of clothing, to feel her silky skin against mine. She notices my struggle, and I can feel her smile against my mouth as she helps me push her jeans down her legs.

She backs away just enough to let me tug her tank over her head, then she removes her bra. My eyes hungrily devour her breasts and stomach, the curves I can’t wait to explore. Without any prompting, I’m on my knees and sliding down her underwear.

A groan escapes my mouth as I press my lips to her thighs. Her hand goes to my hair, fingers fisting as she gains her balance against my greedy need to taste her. I lift one of her legs and place it over my shoulder. She yelps, catching the wall for better balance.

I gaze upward. “Sorry, but you’re not going to slow me at this point.”

I’m not sure if it’s excitement or fear I witness in her eyes as she meets my gaze, but her chest rises and falls with her rushed breaths, her brown eyes pleading for…something. I’m going to find out what that something is—what it takes to make her come harder than she ever has before.

Slowing my movements, I skim my palm along her inner thigh, run my finger over her smooth lips, slipping it just between. She sucks in a quick breath, and I push my finger inside. Her warmth and wetness surrounds me, and my dick aches to feel her.

Pressing my mouth to her, I kiss gently, my finger sliding along the swollen flesh as I shoulder her thigh higher, opening her up to me. My tongue traces her lips, making her quake against me, until I find the spot that makes her grip tighten in my hair. Her thigh quivers.

I slide in a second finger, run my tongue along her clit, until her breathing intensifies.

“Boone…please. I want to come with you inside me.”

Stopping only long enough to seek her eyes, I say, “You’re coming for me now. And you’re coming for me again when I fill you.” I push my fingers in deeper and suck her into my mouth.

I no longer have bones or flesh; the bruises and fractured ribs replaced by points of pleasure. As if I’ve traded in every broken piece of me for an intangible being that’s sole purpose is to worship this woman.

Her hips rock into me as I massage, working my fingers quicker, my mouth bringing her closer to the edge. I grip her hip with one hand, needing to steady myself, wanting to hold her right in this position as she moans, her legs trembling. She’s so wet… Oh, f*ck, my cock is rock hard, throbbing against my thigh.

Then she tenses. Her walls tighten around my fingers. And as she comes, I halt my movements, savoring her sweet taste, her breathy climax, bringing me over the edge with her.

I don’t stop here. I’m on my feet and lifting her into my arms, wrapping her legs around my hips as I move us to the bathtub. Words fail. Pain too distant. My hunger for her removes every rational thought from my brain.