But even looking at Buck, with all his scars, having lost four of his beloved friends, I see no sign of weakness.
There’s not a weak bone in this man’s body.
There never was, and there never will be.
I touch his cheek, let his rough black stubble scrape my fingertips. His lips are so beautiful. They’re parted slightly, and I want so badly to kiss them.
He makes no move to kiss me. After all, he’s not the one who wanted this. I am. I can’t do this to him. Hell, I can’t do it to myself. I’m not ready for it, and apparently neither is he.
I never imagined…
Sure, he said he did three tours in Afghanistan, but still, I never imagined that Buck might be the person who truly understands what I went through.
Even the other women on the island never understood. They didn’t fight as hard as I did.
Except for Katelyn, who was treated nearly as badly as I was when she was punished for stealing a ceramic plate—a ceramic plate that she didn’t do anything with, that she had inflicted no harm with.
Still, they ambushed her, and she came back beaten and abused and tortured.
Diamond wasn’t sure she’d make it.
But she did, and she became stronger after that.
All the women were strong. All of them fought back as much as they could. We were all “worthy prey,” or we never would have been taken to that hell on earth.
But none of them fought as much as I did. The abusers were harder on me because of it, and even so, I couldn’t stop fighting. It’s not in me.
It’s not in Buck either.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I’m sorry I came onto you like that. It’s not a good idea. For either of us.”
“No, it’s not.” His voice is gruff, needy, and full of yearning. “But I don’t fucking care.”
His mouth comes down on mine.
My lips are already parted, and his tongue sweeps between them. A kiss. A kiss from a man.
I was kissed on the island a few times, but for the most part, those degenerates weren’t interested in kissing. They weren’t interested in sex either. Sure, they fucked me, but it wasn’t sex. It was a violation. It was rape, pure and simple.
Those men came to the island to hunt a strong woman. To use and abuse and torture a strong woman.
Maybe it made them feel better about themselves.
Buck Moreno? He doesn’t need to abuse a strong woman to feel better about himself.
No. Strength exudes from him. It’s a part of him as much as his heart or lungs or liver. No matter how scarred he is, no matter what he’s been through at his enemies’ hands, he exudes strength.
Even his kiss is strong. Passionate, full of longing, and strong. He invades my mouth as if he’s invading enemy territory.
Only I’m far from an enemy, so I launch an invasion as well—an invasion of Bucks mouth—and our tongues duel and fight for control.
And my God… It’s freaking amazing.
Magnificent. Two strong wills, and one deep passionate and exciting kiss.
My nipple hardens, and my areola on my other breast contracts. I feel what isn’t there. The phantom nipple.
I never would’ve believed it.
I can feel my missing nipple.
The kiss becomes more raw, more feral, more full of pure and unadulterated lust. It’s so crushing in its intensity, and my God, I never want it to stop. Our lips glide together, our teeth clash, our tongues tangle.
Until he pulls away, breaking the kiss. “My God…”
I suck in some much-needed air, and then I turn toward the nightstand where he left the bottle of water. I bring it to my mouth, slurp half of it down my throat.
“Aspen,” he growls.
“Buck.”
“We shouldn’t.”
“I suppose not.”
“But we’re going to,” he says. “We’re going to, Aspen, so unless you tell me now to go back to the other room, I’m going to have you. Right here, in this bed. Tonight.”
13
BUCK
With one hundred percent of my body and soul, I want her to say no. But I also want her to say yes.
The physical part of me—my dick and the rest of my throbbing body—needs to be with her. Needs to be inside her beautiful body. Needs to sate my desires, fulfill my needs with that beautiful athletic body of hers.
But the mental part of me? My brain? I know it’s not a good idea. I know what she’s been through, and I know I can’t give her what she needs, which is a friend. A relationship.
I’m not ready for that. After what I’ve been through, I’m not sure I’ll ever be wired that way again.
“Please,” she says. “I want this. I need this. I have to have this now, because if I don’t, I may never want it again. I may never have the chance. Not with you. Someone who makes me feel these things. And who makes me feel…”