Stealing His Heart (Shillings Agency 2)

Chapter Eleven

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sp; Tara clung to his hard forearms, taking everything he gave her, and yet still needing more. When his lips moved over hers, her stomach clenched as the familiar scent of his cologne teased her senses, the taste of his tongue drove her wild.

All too soon, he pulled back. “You have to fig—shit.”

Bending down, he rubbed his thigh, a grimace etched on his face. She swallowed hard and glanced down at his leg. “Does it hurt a lot?”

Without replying, he turned away. He let go of his thigh quickly, as if he just now realized he’d been rubbing it in front of her. “Yeah. Especially when it’s going to rain. But it’s not a big deal. I’ll be fine. It always goes away.”

Her heart twisted tight. “Does it help if someone rubs it?”

“I have no clue.” Lifting a shoulder, he glanced back at her. “No one has ever rubbed it before, except for me.”

“But…” She nibbled her lower lip, a pang of sadness stabbing her in the throat. “Not even Christine?”

He didn’t meet her eyes. “I won’t let her.”

“Well, then…” After taking a deep breath, she knelt at his feet. “Let’s find out.”

Stiffening, he captured her hand, the vulnerabilities he usually hid beneath his hard, steely eyes achingly defenseless. “Tara.”

“Trust me. I only want to help you.” She met his gaze, hoping he’d see the truth in her words. Showing him he wasn’t alone in the world anymore. Not if he didn’t want to be. “Please?”

He didn’t release her right away. He held her fingers still, locking gazes with her. Then, after a few seemingly endless moments, he let go of her. She sucked in a deep breath, her mind spinning in circles. Lifting his pants up, he revealed his scars. Even in the shadows of the safe, she could make out the pattern of the zigzagged scars all across his thigh and knee.

When she tried to move it higher, she realized there was no way she could possibly get his pants high enough to do what she wanted. Sure, she could leave them on and massage him through the fabric, but she wanted to show him that his scars didn’t scare her.

That she wasn’t disgusted or turned off by them in the slightest. It was really important to her. She hesitated, her fingers resting on his knee. “Can you take these off for me?”

He shifted uneasily. “That was easy. I didn’t have to seduce you with my smoldering stares and bedroom eyes first.”

“It’s my turn to be bossy.” Even though he was cracking jokes, she knew this wasn’t a joke to him. Not at all. She tugged at the hem. “Take them off. Now.”

Mouth tight, he stood, undid his pants, and let them hit the floor. She didn’t count on the fact that with him standing in front of her, and her kneeling at his feet, she was right at crotch level. Yeah, she was staring his erection in the face, and he was hard.

Really, really hard.

All she could think about was leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the tip of his erection before rolling his boxer briefs down and taking him in her mouth, inch by slow inch. She swallowed a huge gulp of air and forced her attention north.

His gaze was on her, and she knew he was thinking the same thing. Thinking about her closing her mouth around him and…no. That was not why she’d told him to remove his pants. “S-Sit down. I’m in control this time.”

“I’ll allow it…for now.” He tugged on a piece of her hair, then dropped it. He sat and straightened his injured leg on the floor in front of him. “But only for a little while, and only till I tell you to stop. And when I take control, I’ll bend you over that box in the corner and fuck you till you can’t breathe anymore.”

Oh, God. That sounded hot. So, so hot. But she wouldn’t focus on that. Not yet. Right now, she had to concentrate on him. He needed this, too, even if he didn’t know it yet. “We’ll see,” she said, her voice thick with desire.

He clenched his fists at his sides. “Yes. We will.”

Reaching out, she grabbed some lotion out of her purse and lathered her hands. He’d smell fruity and girly, but he’d feel a heck of a lot better. “I’m going to rub your leg. If it hurts, let me know.”

He stiffened. “You probably don’t want to touch it. It’s all raw and rough and—nasty.”

She raised her brow, then clutched his ankle. Slowly, she massaged the muscles, going a little higher as she went. His head dropped back on the wall, and he let out a strangled groan. His hand fisted tighter on top of the floor, and he closed his eyes.

She couldn’t stop looking at him.

Memorizing every detail, laid out for her to see, since she wouldn’t be able to do so for much longer. She loved the way his five o’clock shadow darkened his jaw, much like his lowered lashes did his cheeks. And how he held his breath as she rubbed him, not moving a single muscle, as if he was scared he would send her running.