Page 92 of A Stop in Time
I step toward him, and his fingers flex as though I’m some feral animal about to strike. If I’m being honest, I feel like one right now. I’m throwing every ounce of caution to the wind in lieu of taking this moment with him.
Taking this moment with a man who truly understands my struggle.
I advance until we’re toe to toe. That impenetrable gaze bores into me. “What’re you doin’, Mac?”
I drop my attention to the base of his throat bared by his shirt and focus on the medal lying against his deep bronze skin, mustering up the courage.
Inhaling a deep, fortifying breath, my hands dive beneath the front hem of his shirt, and I place my palms against the warm, firm skin of his abdominals.
His nostrils flare when I place an openmouthed kiss to the side of his throat. “I thought that’d be obvious.” I let one of my hands skim down past his stomach to cup where he’s pressing hard against the fabric of his pants. I place another kiss to the edge of his jaw. “I’m trying to get you naked.”
“Mm, that so?” How does he sound so unbothered? “Thought you didn’t want another round of so-called mediocre sex.”
I lean back to glare at him, but the touch of mirth in his features has me softening. His eyes sweep over my face, lingering on the bruise under my right eye. A flash of irritation crosses his face as he gently dusts the pad of his thumb beneath it.
Voice muted and husky, he studies my bruise. “If you’d told me somebody did this to you, I would’ve gone after ’em, no questions asked.”
All breath leeches from my lungs at the fierce declaration. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that if we’d met at another time, this man would’ve slayed my monster for me.
Daniel Madrano isn’t a perfect man by any stretch of the imagination. He’s a criminal. A murderer. Someone who bends the rules, or even downright breaks them, because the world isn’t strictly black and white like everyone wants to believe.
Sometimes, you have to find the courage to slay the monsters that won’t let you sleep at night. And, in some cases, you have to become a unique brand of monster to do it.
I don’t entertain the idea that this could ever be more. We’re from two different worlds. But right now, right here, I want him.
I want the man who looks at me like I’m normal and not a freak with a strange ability. The man who isn’t the least bit turned off by my scars.
I want the man who would beat the shit out of anyone who hurt me. The one who held my hand. The man who carried me home safely.
The man who understands what it’s like to rid the world of a monster.
Even if it’s only for this brief moment, I have a man who wants to take care of me, to keep me safe. That same man is the first person I don’t have to hide any part of myself from—not my ability, not my scars or my past. Knowing that lifts an enormous weight from my shoulders; one I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying all this time.
My fists clutch the fabric of his shirt, using it as leverage as I lift to my toes and fuse my mouth to his.
One hand moves to my head, his fingers threading in my hair. His mouth moves over mine, his tongue tangling with my own in a wet, hot kiss that has my nipples tightening into hard peaks.
A strangled moan claws its way up my throat when his other hand cups my ass, urging me closer. Our ragged breaths punctuate the air when he breaks the kiss to move his mouth to my neck, trailing kiss after kiss along my throat.
“Daniel.” At any other time, I’d be mortified at the overwhelming need in my voice.
He abruptly levers me up, and I wrap my legs around his hips, my arms encircling his neck.
His eyes are wild, features taut with restraint. “Yeah. I know what you need.”
He takes my mouth in another kiss as he stalks toward my bedroom, but when I capture his bottom lip, gently sucking before soothing it with my tongue, he snaps.
“Fuck.” He grits out the word a second before I’m pinned between him and the wall. One hand reaches between us to tear open my jeans, and I drop my legs from their stranglehold around his hips so he can force the fabric down my legs.
One thick finger slides beneath my panties to spear inside me, and my mouth parts on a silent gasp.
His throaty groan sends a rush of shivers through me before he adds a second finger. “That what you need from me?” His guttural words dance over my skin. “You need me to work this pussy real good with my fingers?”
My hips cant, urging him on, and he thrusts his thick fingers in and out of me. His head descends a split second before he murmurs, “Gimme that mouth again.” Our lips collide in a frenzy, tasting deeply, and it sends a surge of wetness to my core.
“So fuckin’ wet,” he grunts against my lips. “You gonna let me fuck this sweet pussy again?” His words increase my arousal and spur me into action, my hands frantically working at his pants.
A rough sound erupts from deep in his chest. “Yeah, you need me to remind you what a good cock is like, don’t you?”