Wicked as Seduction: Trees & Laila - Part 1 (Wicked & Devoted 5)

Another stab in the heart. Trees wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do, but he brought her close, settling her head against his chest. “I’m so sorry, little one.”

She sniffled and stepped away. “Tears are useless, and I should stop them.”

“If they help you heal, then cry away. I’ll hold you. I’ll do whatever makes you feel safe.”

“Thank you, but safety is an illusion.”

It was a fucking sad statement, but he could see why she believed that. Every time she’d found some refuge—like the safe houses in which she had hidden after escaping her brother-in-law’s compound—they had been repeatedly uncovered and invaded.

Trees shook his head. “Even if you don’t think safety is real, I’ll do everything I can to protect you.”

“I believe you will try.”

He couldn’t help himself. He cradled her face and kissed her forehead. He’d love to do more to prove that she was safe with him, but in the moment, all he could give her was his word. “Always. I promise.”

To his shock, she curled her fingers around his wrists and tilted her face under his. “Can I ask something of you?”

“Anything.”

Her big hazel eyes turned imploring. “Take me to bed.”

His heart seized up. She was asking him to get closer? She wanted to connect with him? Maybe, but she wasn’t thinking about love. Did she even believe such a thing existed? “Laila, you don’t owe me anything, especially not your body.”

“I know. That is why I want you. For the first time, I will know what sex without hate, force, or desperation is like, where the only motive is pleasure. Will you show me?”

Jesus… He couldn’t say no to that. But he didn’t just want to give her a good time; he wanted to give her his love. “Are you sure, honey? You know I want you, right? How I feel about you isn’t much of a secret. But—”

“I am sure.” She rose on to her tiptoes and guided his face down to hers.

Trees groaned and covered her mouth with his own. Her pillowy lips parted, cushioning his entry. As she curled her hand around his neck, her tongue met his shyly. Her breasts pressed to his chest, and she exhaled with him, into him.

Desire gripped Trees, choking him with need. After making herself so emotionally vulnerable, she seemed ready to open herself sexually. It was far more than he’d ever expected.

He pulled back and thumbed her swollen lower lip, his heart jacked up on more than desire. “I’m going to make love to you, honey. I’m going to lavish every bit of pleasure I can on you. Tell me when you’ve had enough.”

She nodded and reached for the hem of the sweatshirt.

He gripped her wrists. “Let me do that.”

Obediently, Laila dropped her arms to her sides.

Trees tucked his fingers under the baggy fleece and slowly lifted it over her head. Underneath, she still wore the threadbare pink tank and the nearly illegal shorts that clung to her every curve and took his breath away.

He swallowed as he reached for her thin top, deliberately lifting it to give Laila a hundred opportunities to object. She said nothing, just affixed her darkening stare on him.

He swallowed as he shed the tank and tossed it to the floor. Next, he popped the button at her waistband. Her zipper followed, a sensuous scratch of noise in the quiet room. Then he peeled the shorts past her hips, eased them down her thighs, and let them drop to the hardwood floor. His breaths turned harsh.

In the winter chill, she shivered, nipples beading inside her plain cotton bra, but she made no move to cover herself. His gaze swept over her every petite curve and soft swell. Yeah, he wanted her. Of course. But not just because she was beautiful or his type. The way she was giving herself honestly made his desire surge. She had no hidden agenda to escape him, test him, or work him over. She simply wanted him.

“You okay?” He skimmed his knuckles over the swell of her breast. “You still want this?”

“Yes.” She reached behind her back and unfastened her bra.

The tiny scrap of cotton fell between them. Suddenly, his view went from leaving little to the imagination to leaving nothing at all.

“Laila…” His stare swept down the heavy hang of her breasts and tight rosy-brown nipples, then scraped the valley of her waist, finally settling on the lush curve of her hip—interrupted by soft beige cotton.

It had to go. He needed her bare.

“You have seen me naked before.”

“You get more beautiful every time I do.”

“Pretty words are not necessary.”

Trees braced his hands on her hips and brought her against his cock, which filled and throbbed for her. “I’m horrible with pretty words, but I’m really damn good with the truth. And that’s what I’m telling you.”