Page 36 of Shades of You

But the brightness was too much. I’d thought about this moment for so long, but I’d only imagined it at night. Not in broad daylight. She stared at me as if I were someone worth wanting, her eyes radiating desire as she skimmed her hands over my pectorals. “I’ve been thinking about this, Hunter. What you look like under that shirt. I can’t wait to find out.”

“Your r-room…” I stuttered, but the words got lost somewhere between my racing thoughts and the tightness in my throat. My eyes darted to the framed beach landscapes on the wall, then to the bed with its gray-and-aqua bedding ensemble. The illumination would strip away the shadows to leave me exposed. Not just to the light, but to the woman who had no idea what I’d been through. And now there was no way to hide it.

“What about it?” Brenna asked, her voice a melodic tease that pulled deep within me.

“It’s so bright.” Again, I scanned the unfamiliar space. It felt charged with a heavy expectation that made my palms sweat.

She nuzzled against my neck. “Good. I want to see you. All of you.”

But did she?

Then she pulled back to study me. Our gazes held, and the longing was clear in her eyes. Her raw and unguarded face gave me courage, or maybe it was just the pure need coursing through my veins that compelled me to give in to the light and let go.

I leaned down and claimed her lips with mine, plunging both hands into her silky hair at last. Our kiss was deep, passionate, an unleashing of every suppressed desire.

But in the midst of our tangled embrace, reality jabbed at me. Damn it, I hadn’t anticipated that we’d cross this line today, if at all. I groaned. “Wait.” I stepped back just enough to look into her eyes. “I don’t have a condom. I didn’t plan on this happening?—”

Brenna cut me off with a small smile, her fingers trailing along my jawline in a way that set me ablaze. “I’ve got some,” she whispered, her breath warm against my mouth.

Relief heightened my arousal even more, and desire throbbed in a hot roll through my core. “Good thing one of us is prepared.”

Relaxing slightly that at least one problem was solved, my hands roamed over Brenna’s body. I had to see her. Touch her. Skimming her sides, I found the hem of her shirt and pulled it upward. The fabric fluttered to thefloor, revealing her soft, bare skin bathed in the filtered daylight streaming through her window.

“Beautiful,” I murmured as I stared at her in the bikini top that had tormented me all morning. She’d caught me looking at least once, but the beach was a distant memory now. And it couldn’t compare to the very real vision before me.

Unable to wait another second, I unbuckled the clasp and lifted the top away. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath, and I cupped them, aching at the softness. She leaned into my touch, her eyes closing. I couldn’t resist drawing her closer, raking my mouth over hers once more as our tongues danced. She moaned against my mouth, a sound so sweet it sent a red-hot jolt straight to my groin.

“More,” she breathed. Brenna’s fingers trembled as they traced the contours of my abdomen, working their way down to the hem of my shirt. She pulled it up with a kind of urgency that matched the pounding rhythm of my heart, and I steeled myself.

The moment was here.

Taking the black fabric in my hands, I ripped it over my head and let it drop to the floor. My heart stuttered as I froze, unable to move. Unable to breathe, I stood before her.

The reminders of my past life lay exposed under her gaze—scars and bullet holes marring my skin amidst the elaborate American Samoan tribal tattoo covering my chest, shoulders, and upper arms.

I stilled completely, hyper-aware of every one of her featherlight touches. It was vulnerability unlike anything else, having her see the marks of my history—the physical evidence of my failures.

“God, Hunter,” she whispered, her green eyes widewith a mixture of shock and something I dared hope was desire. “You’re… you’ve been through so much.”

“Part of the job,” I said gruffly.

But Brenna didn’t flinch or turn away. Instead, she gazed at me as if I were some kind of warrior, not the broken man I saw in the mirror. Her acceptance was more intimate than any physical touch could be, and it sparked fierce possessiveness within me.

“Only part of who you are,” she countered softly, tracing the edges of the ink that obscured some of my scars. Others lay bare and exposed on my abdomen, on my sides.

Brenna’s gaze lingered on the jagged lines and puckered skin that marred my body. Her fingers danced across my scars with a reverence that left me breathless. My instinct was to cover up, to shield her from the ugliness of my past deeds. I opened and closed my mouth, trying to find words to explain, but she silenced me with her gentle touch.

“Shh,” she breathed, placing a slender finger over my lips. Then she slowly slid it down my chin and across my shoulder to rest on the inked skin covering my wildly beating heart. Her kiss landed softly on the bullet hole near my rib, an act so tender it felt like absolution. “Don’t,” she murmured against my skin, her breath warm and comforting. “Don’t be scared. Or worried.”

When she glanced up, her eyes held an understanding and acceptance that words could never capture. An understanding of why I’d changed shirts so fast after our dive and why I never removed my shirt in public. As if she didn’t see a man marked by violence. Her touch had the power to rewrite my history, and for a moment, I allowed myself to believe in the new story she offered.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” she whispered hoarsely, her desire fueling my own. “I need to touch you, Hunter.”

Taking my hand, she tugged me toward the bed. The rest of our clothes fell away in a hasty trail, the urgency between us growing with each second. Standing naked before me, Brenna was a vision of perfection. Every curve, every dip of her body was a siren call, and I was utterly entranced. Hot blood roared through my body, screaming through my veins.

“I want you so bad, Hunter.” Her voice was thick with need, and my body answered with an almost unbearable throbbing. She reached into the nightstand drawer to pull out a strip of condoms and laid them atop the nightstand.

“I want you more. So much more.” My deep voice was barely more than a growl, but at least I could speak again. I covered her mouth with mine, the weight of my desire tightening my arms around her. She was so much smaller than me, delicate even. And for a moment, fear laced through the haze of my lust—fear of hurting her. But Brenna met my gaze squarely, her eyes blazing.

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