by Stacy Gail
“I know what the fuck I look like.”
“Do you? When you compare your face now to the face you once had, do you really think you’re seeing yourself the way you actually are? Remember who you’re talking to, Steele. I’ve gone through more than twice the amount of reconstructive surgeries that you have, and I still feel a flash of dread when I look in the mirror.”
“Don’t,” he growled, his hand cupping her cheek while his thumb pressed against her lips. “You’re gorgeous, sweetness. Never doubt it.”
“Steele, my point is that I do still have that knee-jerk reaction deep inside, even though logically I know I’ve been put back together. Whether you know it or not, you’re the same way.”
He winced as if stabbed. “I’m not put back together. Not the way I was.”
“I can’t look at you through that filter because I’ve only known you with this face.” She brushed her fingers over his scars, then held him firmly in place when he tried to turn away. “You need to understand you’re not what you think you are. These scars…” She traced the thin scar that went around his cheekbone to disappear into his hairline, and she didn’t miss his flinch—not of pain, she knew, but because he didn’t want her to touch what he thought was hideous. “I know it feels like these scars are what you’ve become. I know you believe that they’re the only thing people can see when they see you. But that’s not reality, Steele. When I look at you, I don’t see scars on a man. I see a man. I see you.”
A harsh sound grated out of him while his expression turned so bitter it hurt her to see it. “Don’t pretend you don’t see them every time you look at me.”
“Do you see my scars the way I do every time I look in a mirror? Because they’re the first things I see.”
“What?” That bitter light faded into a cloud of bewilderment. “What bullshit are you talking about? Your scars aren’t even noticeable, Essie. They’re nothing like mine.”
She ground her teeth in frustration. For a bright man, he sure as hell was slow when it came to getting the point. “A scar is a scar, Steele, and I have them everywhere. Not just here on my neck, but here.” She traced a finger along her upper lip. “And here.” She rolled her lips over her teeth to point out the scar the doctors had cleverly made a part of the indentation of her reconstructed chin. “And then there are the ones in the folds of my eyelids, and the worst one along my hairline here.” She pointed to each horrible imperfection—at least as far as she was concerned—and watched the bewilderment deepen in his eyes. “When you look at me, are all those awful marks the first thing you see? Is that what you see when you see me?”
“Don’t be fucking ridiculous, all I see is you. Those scars aren’t even there as far as I’m concerned.”
“Exactly.” Though, she had to admit, her head swam with relief to hear it. “That’s how it is with me when I look at you. I don’t see them. When I look at you, all I see is you. And to me, Ezekiel Steele, you’re beautiful.”
He eyes squeezed shut as if in pain. Then he hooked a hand around her nape to pull her close so he could rest his forehead against hers. “Essie. God, baby, your sweetness kills me.”
“I’ll never forget the first time I saw you,” she went on, bringing her hands to his waist and around his back so she could rub away the tension there. “The first thing I noticed about you was the pair of kickass boots you were wearing—very stylish. Then I thought how thick and gorgeous your hair was. Then I looked into your eyes and had the world’s biggest hot flash because you have the sexiest eyes I’ve ever seen. I thought I was going to spontaneously combust right there in—”
That was as far as she got as his mouth came down on hers.
Chapter Fifteen
Essie reeled as Steele held onto her as if he was drowning and she was the only thing keeping him afloat. Their mouths fused together in a study of perfection and she could only hope that he was aware of it too, because to her it was a miracle. Of all the billions of people in the world, she’d managed to find the one man with whom she’d been built to fit. It was better than winning the lottery.
By far.
His arms wrapped around her like steel bands, and suddenly her feet lost contact with the floor. He moved without breaking their kiss, and the wetter and deeper the kiss went, the more she wished it could go on forever. Was there anything better than his velvet tongue invading her mouth? If there was, she hadn’t run into it yet.
But if better was out there, she had a feeling Steele would be at the heart of it.
That feeling solidified into certainty when he set her down. Her eyes opened and she found herself no longer in the salon, but in an open, airy bedroom done in a dozen shades of blue and gray.
His bedroom.
Her heart began to thump in earnest.
“We’re going to go at this next lesson one slow step at a time for your sake, but make no mistake, baby. We’re doing this.” His voice had a purr-around-the-edges roughness to it, and though she was a newbie to this sort of thing, she instinctively knew that this was the voice of a man who was doing everything he could to keep his passion on a tight leash. For her. Everything he did was for her, and that staggered her all the way to her soul. “You ready to be educated?”
She looked into his eyes. “By you, Professor? Always.”
A ripple of almost savage hunger moved through his expression, so intense he couldn’t hide it, before he kissed her brow and took a step back. “First step in this lesson—take my shirt off.”
She licked her lips and reached for the buttons of his dress shirt. “Learning is fun.”
“Glad you approve. But,” he added, curling his fingers around her wrists to bring them to a halt, “you’re not doing it right.”
“I’m not?” There was another way to do it?
“I want you to keep your eyes locked on mine while you’re taking my clothes off. Don’t stop looking at me to see what your hands are doing. Feel your way as you go.” Bringing her hands up to his mouth, he kissed the knuckles of each hand before releasing her. “You may begin.”
Her breath caught, excitement welling up so fast it threatened to choke the air right out of her. Without looking away, she stepped into his space, her hands gliding up the hard, flat surface of his stomach to his chest, zeroing in on the first button via touch. She could feel the wild thud of his heart as she worked the buttons free, and that gave her all the encouragement she needed.
He wanted her, so much.
Just as much as she wanted him.
“Don’t forget the cuffs. Eyes on me,” he corrected gently when she started to look away. “Use your touch to guide you, but keep looking at me so I can see you’re still with me on this.”
“I am.” Understanding flowed through her, as soft as healing waters, when she realized why he’d turned so autocratic. He was looking out for her. Even now, this beautiful man was trying to protect her. “I’m with you.”
His eyes warmed and crinkled at the corners. “Untuck my shirt, slide your hands underneath and get used to the feel of me as you push it off my shoulders. You can explore me if you want before you undo my belt and pants.”
Her breath caught at the last part, and twin spirals of nervousness and excitement shot through her. She did as instructed, and the sensation of hot skin sliding under her hands distracted her from any hint of unease. God, everything about him felt so insanely good—the hint of abrasiveness over well-developed pectoral muscles that were shadowed with a light smattering of hair; the silken skin stretched tautly over his wide shoulders; the shift and ripple of hard slabs of muscle beneath that skin.
He was a masterpiece come to life.
Tension thrummed through the muscles beneath her seeking hands, and she understood why. He held himself in powerful check, sacrificing his own desires so that she’d feel safe. Her heart whirled like a wild thing at that realization, and all at once she didn’t want him to sacrifice for her.
As much as he wanted her to feel safe, she wanted him
to feel the same with her.
She pushed the material from his shoulders, then slid her hands down the length of his arms until he was free of the shirt, the action bringing her even closer to him. When her breasts brushed against his naked torso, her nipples tightened even through the layers of clothing, and that faint, inadvertent caress nearly made her moan aloud.
“You feel beautiful.” The words flowed out of her with the naturalness of breathing, because it was true. Her hands couldn’t get enough of him as she explored the wall of his chest, the muscle-padded ladder of his rib cage, the smooth expanse of his back and his sides that tapered down to abs she was positive she could wash clothes on. When her fingers brushed against the barrier of his pants, a tremor shook her. “I’m ready for the next step if you are.”
Other than a faint shudder at her words, he remained motionless. “Sweetness, you’ll find out just how ready I am once you get me out of these pants.”
Oh, my.
Her breath became audible as she worked the buckle and fastenings. She didn’t care. The excitement crowded out everything else except for that delicious slick heat blooming between her legs. It made her squirm, despite trying to hold it back while she lowered his zipper over the hard mound that was impossible to ignore. She didn’t want to ignore that hardness. She wanted to see not just him, but the evidence of what she made him feel.
She couldn’t wait.
He toed out of his shoes. “Just like the shirt, slide your hands underneath and take my clothes off, sweetness. Then, once you’ve explored me, you’re going to do the same for yourself.”
“You certainly are picky about how to get naked.” She wondered if he could feel her hands tremble as she slid them beneath the waistbands of both his pants and underwear, cupping his well-toned ass for a delicious moment before sliding everything over his hip bones. “Are you always like that?”
“This first time around, you’re going to go after everything you want. Do everything you want. This is all you, making the decision to take me inside you, and you need to know that. You need to own it. I’ll take my turn next time around.” His eyes were hot as they held hers, before he reached out to brush his thumb over her lips. “Finish what you started, baby. Get me out of these clothes, and then get yourself naked for me. I want to see you.”
The hidden place between her legs clenched almost painfully at that, and suddenly that was all she wanted at well. With hands cupping the backs of his thighs, she slowly bent her knees in a slow-motion squat, sliding his clothes down as she went. The moment the material slid past his ass, she could no longer keep her eyes on his, but he didn’t seem to mind as she took in the thrust of his full erection.
Well.
He really hadn’t been kidding about those size fourteen shoes.
The size of his cock was intimidating; she wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. But there was no fear in looking at him. Far from it. Everything womanly in her wanted to reach out to take that impressive thrust of stiffened flesh and find out just how controlled he really was.
So that was exactly what she did.
“Essie.” It was no louder than a hiss as she wrapped her fingers around his hardness, unable to close her thumb to her fingers, and she was amazed at how something so hard and hot could feel so silken. She ran the pads of her fingers over the veins and ridges before running her thumb over the darker head. His body jerked and his hard flesh twitched. “Baby, you’re killing me.”
Nothing could have thrilled her more. “Where are you the most sensitive? Put your hand on mine and show me.”
She heard him swallow before he did as she asked, gripping her to slide over his shaft and pressing the tips of her fingers with extra pressure to the underside of his length. He did that for a while, and she thrilled at the roughening cadence of his breathing. An intense throb had begun between her legs, and she tried to ignore it until it bordered on discomfort. As she was about to lean in to kiss that purpling crown just to see what would happen, he took his hand from hers and brought her to her full height, much to her disappointment.
“Steele—”
“Gotta stop, baby.”
She understood immediately why. “Why stop when things are just getting interesting?”
“Our first time’s not going to end up with me coming in your hand or on your face. It’s time you took the next step while I get myself under control.”
Her breath was almost as disturbed as his. “Next step?”
“Get naked, sweetness.”
Those three words ripped through her so fiercely she was surprised the force of them didn’t blow every stitch she wore right off of her. When that didn’t happen, her hands raised to the overall’s right suspender, then the left. If only she’d known this was going to happen, she lamented, keeping her eyes on his. She would have loved to have wowed the daylights out of him with a sexy underwear set, or at the very least a cute push-up bra. Instead the poor man was getting her cotton hipster undies with a Pac-Man eating up a line of dots that went straight down to her crotch and no bra under her yellow tank.
Sexy.
Not.
All that was missing from this getup was a beat-up trailer held together by duct tape, and banjo music twanging in the background.
But her inner woe eased when she heard him suck in a tight breath when the baggy overalls puddled at her feet, and she stepped out of them along with her equally unspectacular flip-flops. Maybe she didn’t look like a complete joke after all, but she wasn’t about to give him a chance to think it through. With zero amount of finesse—and ironically thinking she should be glad she’d rather be naked than have him see her in her shittiest clothes—she ripped off her tank and went for her panties. Before she could fling them off, however, his hand curled around her wrist, freezing her in place.
“Too fast. I want to enjoy the view.”
Until that moment, Essie hadn’t known she could blush all the way to her nipples.
Breathing became impossible as his gaze slid over every naked inch of her before his hands followed the same path. His thumbs rubbed over the angles of her hip bones to which her Pac-Man panties still clung, before they moved up over what she’d always thought of as an overripe flare of her hips, to the much more slender sweep of her rib cage to claim the full, rounded globes of her breasts. For years she’d shrouded her hourglass figure, something she’d inherited from her mother and countless generations of lush Puerto Rican ancestors, because hiding it had made her feel safe. When she was with Steele, though, she didn’t have to hide herself.
She would always be safe with him.
“Damn, Essie.” His voice was rough, almost shaken, and she had no idea what to make of that. But she loved the way he lifted the heavy weight of her breasts in his palms and rubbed the nipples with his thumbs until she was certain every nerve she had was connected to those super-sensitive nubs. “You’re a miracle. A fucking dream come to life.”
That all-over body blush went nuclear, making the flesh he touched tingle all the more. “No, I’m not. Trust me on this.”
“Jesus, baby, you are. I’ve never seen a woman who has everything I’ve ever fantasized about all in one dynamite package. I didn’t think you existed. Thank God you do.”
A burst of delight moved through her, from his words as much as his touch, and she brought her hands up to close over his. “I thought you said you were a leg man.”
“I’m now an everything man, because everything is what you’ve got going on. I feel like I’ve discovered untouched treasure, and now it’s all mine.”
That was incredibly sweet, but… “Not untouched.”
“I’m not debating that point with you again. You’ll know I’m right by the time I finally allow you sleep tonight. Come here.”
Technically speaking she was already “there,” but she obligingly looped her arms around his neck, and wallowed in his groan of pleasure when his marble-hard cock rubbed against her belly. The sensation of flesh against flesh stagge
red her; a satin glide against living silk, a friction-filled fusing of two pieces into one. His body against hers was an answer to a question she hadn’t known she’d been asking. To finally have that answer—so solid and real and warm against her—gave her soul unutterable peace.
“Steele.” Her fingers dived into his waving hair, and she arched her neck to bring her mouth to his ear. “You feel better than any dream I’ve ever had.”
His answer was to wrap his arms around her and lift her off the ground. Her legs came up and around his waist so that she held onto him with everything she had while she gave her mouth to his. She reveled in how he kissed—a wild mating of mouths that was long and deep and openly wanton. She could only hope she felt a fraction of that wild completion when he entered her in another way.
Though her eyes had drifted closed to savor his kiss, she was aware of him moving toward the king-sized platform bed draped simply in a charcoal comforter and two utilitarian steel blue pillows. Everything was neat and in place, with not even a hint of ugliness to be found, and she understood better than most where that need for orderliness and beauty stemmed from. He knew that in a single moment life could become an ugly, nightmarish mess. The need to control that chaos was a drive he answered by molding his surroundings into a scene of tranquil perfection, just as she tried to create perfection in her fashion.
Creating beauty from the ugliest of traumas was the most beautiful thing—the most human thing—they could do.
God, how she loved being human with him.
“I like the feel of you under me, Essie.” His mouth left hers only to speak, his lips brushing hers as he spoke. He rested most of his weight on a forearm, freeing a hand to sweep down her belly to slide into the panties she still wore. “I like it one hell of a lot, but I need to know if you’re doing okay with me like this. Don’t want to have you freak out on me when all I care about is giving you pleasure.”
The sweetest sensation squeezed around her heart until it almost hurt. “I know who you are. You’re the man who moves me so much I can’t help but be glad I’m alive just so I can experience you. You’re the man I invited to be where you are now. You’re the only man I’ve ever wanted.”
