Lover Unveiled (Black Dagger Brotherhood 19)

“I need you to know something,” he said in a rough voice.

Mae dropped her arm sharply. And he put it right back where it was.

“If I could be different, I would be—for you,” he told her. “And in the future, if you ever doubt how important you are, just think of me. I promise that I’ll be somewhere on the planet . . . thinking about how special you are, and wishing things were different.”

“You have that all backward.” She cupped her hand over his own. “You’re going to forget me and I’m going to be the one missing you.”

As he went to speak, she shook her head. “It’s okay. I am forgettable.”

“Don’t say that—”

“I am one of a thousand civilian females, out of her transition, but not in the decline of old age, living in a simple house, working a regular job. I worry about which day is trash day, and whether I’ve recycled enough. I get tangled in my own head in front of the vegetables at Hannaford when I can’t figure out what to eat. My car is ten years—well, was ten years old. I snore on my back, have bad dreams if I’m overtired, and miss the feel of the sun on my face, even though it’s been decades since I could go out at noontime.” She laughed in a cold rush. “Even the demon said I’m not bad-looking, but hardly worth crossing the street for—”

Sahvage kissed her. Because he wanted to. Because he hated what she was saying about herself. Because she didn’t get it.

Even if all those supposedly average vital statistics were true, she was still unforgettable.

To him.

When it came to being a legend, all it took was one person to recognize that you were epic. That was it.

• • •

As Sahvage’s mouth moved over Mae’s with gentle demand, she knew she’d annoyed him with her reality check—except she was right about all it.

No reason to argue, though. Not while he was . . .

As his tongue licked into her, she put her arms around his shoulders, ready for so much more. Yet he eased back, their mouths parting with a soft sound.

“Mae . . .”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Spare me the I-know-best, especially when it comes to me losing my v—”

“I’ll make it good for you,” he whispered. “I promise. That’s all.”

When he kissed her again, the door to her bedroom shut of its own volition, willed by him, not her. And as her eyes adjusted, she felt like she could feel the heat in his gaze, even though she couldn’t really see him. Then again, everything felt hot.

And she’d thought she’d missed the sun? Sahvage had brought it to her, not by hanging it over her head, but by putting it into her veins.

Mae was the one who lay back, and he came with her, keeping their lips together. Except as all he did was keep kissing her, she once again became impatient. So she took one of his hands and moved it onto her breast—

With a groan, she arched up to him, and he did exactly what she was hoping he would. He caressed her through her clothes, skating over her rib cage, going down to her hip, returning to where she was so sensitive. He made that route over and over again, soothing her, stroking her.

Just as she was wondering if she was going to have to take her own clothes off, he slipped his hand under her fleece, under her turtleneck. As he made contact with her skin, she groaned again. His hand was so broad, so warm, so calloused. A very male hand.

The only male hand to touch her like this.

Slowly, he moved upward, and when he got to her bra, he stopped. His thumb went back and forth a couple of times . . . and then he was under the sensible cotton cup, pushing it up.

“Sahvage,” she gasped.

Her skin was hypersensitive, and he knew where to rub, what to stroke, when to pinch. Her nipples strained, the hard tips tingling for more of what he was giving her, and her whole body went boneless.

“Please . . .”

“Please what,” he said into her mouth. “What do you want?”

“More.”

And that was how she became half naked. With a quick shift and an up-and-over, her top layers were off—

He was the one who groaned now. “You’re so beautiful.”

Mae looked down at herself. Her bra was cockeyed, one cup down, the other popped over, causing that breast to puff out, the nipple so very prominent.

The front fastening popped under his fingertips, and then the constriction was completely gone. The pink tips of her breasts were so tight, so high, and before she could get embarrassed about staring at herself, Sahvage was kissing her neck. Her collarbone. Her sternum.

Spearing her hands into his hair, she found her hips rolling, her legs sawing, her sex hungry for him.