The Darkest Part (Living Heartwood 1)

A deep rumble vibrates from the back of my throat as I work my finger harder against the swell. Her leg wraps tighter around me, pulling me to her, and I nip, just a slight tease with my teeth. She begins to shatter under my touch, under my mouth and tongue. And I fucking love it.

Her hips arch into me, begging for release. “Come for me, Sam. So hard. Right now.” My voice is raspy and low, and I can’t believe I’m able to talk—I’m about to come out of my skin.

And as she as does, she tightens around my finger to the point where I can only press against the swollen mound. I swirl my tongue over her clit as she trembles and arches one last time. Her breathing intensifies until she’s panting, her body tensing, and then she sags against the wall.

I look up at her, beautiful and satisfied, as she lowers her gaze. “You do know I’m far from finished.” No other words have ever been truer. Just feeling her . . . and watching her . . . I almost blew in my boxers. I’m not sure if I can hold out, but I have to be inside her. Now. Then I’ll take my time. Making sure I memorize every inch of her. Inside and out.

Then, “Shit.” I thunk my forehead against the wall between her thighs.

“Oh—” She jerks, and I realize my hair just grazed her sensitive area.

“Sorry.” I sit back on my heels and raise my head. “Just . . . I didn’t bring anything.”

She tugs at her bottom lip with her teeth. “You mean a condom?” I nod, and I want to ram my head right through the wall. “Holden, I’m on birth control.”

“But you haven’t taken any pills the whole time we’ve been on the road.”

She rolls her eyes. “There are other kinds other than pills. Shit.” She laughs, and her voice is music.

“You’re not worried about . . .” Hell.

A slow smile crawls across her face. “Well, you know who I’ve been with. And”—she hikes her brows—“would you really be with me if there was something I should worry about?”

I feel my forehead crease. “No. Never.” I grasp her thighs and stare into her face, worshipfully, like I’m knelt in prayer. “I swear to you, I’ve always been safe.”

Sliding down along the wall, she lowers herself, her legs spread and her knees bent on either side of me, and it’s the sexiest thing I have ever seen. Her arms slip around my waist, and my want for her is on fire again. She trusts me.

Reverently grasping her face, I lean in and kiss her slow and deep. Then running my hands down her shoulders, arms, waist, I find and clutch the hem of her tee. I only break the kiss to lift it over her head and toss it behind me.

My pulse goes right to my dick as I take in her breasts. Perfect. Round. Sultry as hell. Her nipples, beautiful and a perfect shade of pink, harden under my admiring gaze. The tatted stars gracing her collarbone only accentuate her beauty. She’s fucking gorgeous. And what’s more, there’s no shame on her face. She allows me to look her over unabashed, and that’s the biggest turn on yet.

Then, fear thunders in my chest. I have to remove my shirt. Once I take it off . . . fuck. She’s going to think I’m demented, if she doesn’t cringe in revulsion first.

Her fingers trail my stomach. “I’ve been dying to see your tattoo.” And as her hand reaches the bottom of my T-shirt, I grasp her wrist.

“Wait.” I swallow hard. “I’ll do it.”

Her face twists in confusion. Closing my eyes, I quickly yank my shirt off by the back of the collar before I lose my nerve, and hear her slight gasp. I don’t know if it’s because of the tat or the scar.

My muscles tense as I feel her warm, soft hands touch my skin. The pads of her fingers trace one of the wiry branches that wraps my shoulder, then roam down, over my pec. Further exploring to my rib cage, and to where the black trunk extends to the top of my hip. And then, to my horror, her

fingers search the scar. The callous, mangled skin that the ink would only take in parts. So much like her tree. Dead. Lifeless. Unfeeling. I ache, craving to feel her touch through the numb scar tissue.

“Open your eyes, Holden.”

Slowly, I do. And the depth of acceptance in her yellow-green irises startles me.

“You did this . . . for me?”

I nod once, my neck rigid. “Something beautiful to cover something ugly. Something I wanted, loved, needed so badly . . . but had to settle for a memory.”

A tear falls from her eye, and I palm her cheek, catching it. Bringing her into me, I press her soft skin to mine and caress her lips in a tender kiss. One that reaches into my soul.

I pull back just enough to whisper, “I’m going to make love to you now.”

Her eyes flick to mine. “I don’t want sweet, Holden. That would be fake. I need to feel every emotion. Every raw, grating, painful emotion we’ve ever felt, and every bit of the desire and love we’ve denied ourselves.”

The dam that’s been holding me back fragments, and with an unstoppable force, I burst through it. My lips crush hers, and I’m pushing her against the wall. Then grabbing her waist, hauling her to her feet.