Once Burned (Morelli Family 3)

Elise nods, biting down on that bottom lip as she drops her leg.

She grabs my hand again, but then on second thought she releases it, darting out into the road and grabbing the gun our assailant was too afraid to retrieve. She jogs up ahead to the trash can on the sidewalk and drops it in.

Finally she comes back to reclaim my hand, explaining, “Don’t want another bad guy to find that.”

—

I barely get the door locked.

For five long years, I have awaited this moment. Elise watches me with interest, backing up toward the bedroom. She might have it in her to be aggressive, but she doesn’t want to—she wants me to do it.

So I do.

I chase her down the hall and she grins, throwing herself inside the bedroom, letting me back her up against the wall. As I move in, the distance between us vanishing, her playfulness gives way to something a little heavier. Her fingers go to the lapels of my jacket, tugging it off me. I shake it off the rest of the way, tossing it to the side, and she starts on the buttons of my white dress shirt. Once it’s open, I’m hit by a minor case of nerves. I don’t like people seeing my scars, and her skin is the exact opposite of mine—smooth, creamy perfection.

Before she can finish peeling it off, I shrug it back on. Elise pauses, frowning.

“You don’t wanna…?”

I don’t know if I’m more afraid to see disgust or compassion on her face. I don’t want her feeling bad for me.

“I’m fine,” I say, pausing. “I just—why don’t we wait a minute to take that off?”

She understands why, but she doesn’t drop it. Her gaze drops to my chest and her hands brush my sides as she touches me all over, her left hand brushing taut, normal skin, the skin of a man she should be touching, and the right touching the mottled flesh I don’t want her to see, even in the dark.

“I already saw this the night you came home drunk, and if it bothered me, I wouldn’t deserve to be here with you anyway.”

“I don’t want your… sympathy.”

“I wasn’t offering any,” she says, almost lightly. “It’s just, while I’m not at all opposed to the sight of you in an open dress shirt, this is my first time, and I’d like for us both to be naked.”

Even though I assumed that’s where this was heading, hearing her address the reality that we’re approaching sex knocks some of the resistance out of me. Apparently counting on that, she takes advantage and peels the shirt off, her gaze never leaving mine.

There’s a certain measure of calculation in Elise that I didn’t expect, but I kind of like it. This girl knows how to get what she wants. I may not always understand why she wants it, but the more time I spend with her, the more facets I see. The more I realize… maybe she doesn’t need as much fixing as I thought.

Erasing all thoughts of literally anything else, Elise bends her head and her soft lips brush my chest, just below my collar bone. She leaves a trail of fire behind her—every single time her lips brush my skin, I think I’m going to combust. Then she gets to my nipple and her tongue darts out, circling it, then suckling.

I need support. I need to move this to the bed.

Reaching down to grab her hand, I tug her back that way. I’m already so hard it hurts, and she’s still fully dressed.

Well, as fully dressed as she can be with that evil thigh split.

This is her first time. I need to slow down.

My eyes are glued to her, watching as she reaches around and unties her dress. I expected to have to unzip this one, but apparently it wraps around, because a moment later, she drops it in a pool at her feet. I swallow, my eyes wandering over her body. She’s not wearing a bra, only a lacy scrap of nude underwear, and as my gaze hits her bare body, her perfect, smooth, beautiful skin, feelings I’ve shoved down for literally years come rising to the surface. I don’t just want to touch her, I want to consume her.

I move toward her, skimming my hands down her bare shoulders, watching her face for any sign she’s not feeling it as my hands move in, catching the weight of her full, beautiful breasts in my palms.

She’s too perfect. It’s too corny to say, so I keep it in, but she is. Countless nights, more than I’d ever admit to, I’ve lain awake thinking about this moment, what she would look like, how she would respond to my touch, how she would taste. I lean in now, finally free to find out.