Page 60 of The Lightkeeper

Again, he lifted me, and I felt that same thrill—that my curves I loved so much, curves that weren’t the standard of beauty—made no difference in how he treated me… wanted me. If anything, they made him want me more.

In the short steps to the bedroom, I pulled my blouse over my head and let it land somewhere on the floor.

His hold on me didn’t loosen as he lowered us to the edge of the mattress, keeping me on his lap. My skirt bunched as my legs widened around his hips, the hard length of him sitting against my core.

His hands roamed my back, flicking the clasp of my bra open and groaning as my breasts spilled free. I heard the material land… somewhere… but I couldn’t focus on anything when his mouth latched over my nipple.

I arched and moaned, his hand sliding to claim the other weight, thumbing the hard peak as his mouth laved the other one. Everything about me was so sensitive. And it only seemed to be that way with him, as though Kit had unlocked a pleasure switch in my brain that set all my senses in overdrive.

In minutes, I was rocking against him, needing the friction against my clit.

“Kit…” I begged, my fingers sliding along his beard, through his hair, my nails scoring his nape.

I wanted him naked. Me naked. I wanted the hardness I felt underneath me to finally be inside me. I wanted it so badly, my inside muscles clenched and released to the point of pain.

But Kit… Kit was both the lighthouse and the storm, thrashing me about on the waves of pleasure even as he guided me toward the warm beacon of release.

His mouth slid to my other breast, the tip so sensitive from the torture of his fingers that I cried out at the warm suction, a wave of wet heat rushing between my thighs.

I felt his groan against my skin. “You have no idea what you do to me.”.

My mind scrambled. Did he not see what he was doing to me? I was practically melting from his touch.

“Kit, please,” I whimpered and grappled for the fabric of his shirt.

He tensed, everything stopping, and I realized what I’d done—where my hands were: his back.Slowly, his head tipped up, my nipple sliding free from his mouth as he searched for my eyes. Panic settled into my bones like a cold chill.He couldn’t stop now.

“Show me,” I pleaded. “Show me what I do to you.” I drew a ragged breath. “Show me everything.”

Pain lanced the depths of his eyes, spearing through the last of his walls and sending darkness bleeding into their orbs, and then his chin dipped ever so slightly. Resignation. Acceptance.A plea.

Slowly, I gathered the fabric in my fingers. His mouth returned to my breast, not to distract me—though it was impossible to fight the waves of pleasure that began to lap along my skin—but to distract himself as I bared his torso.

All those experiments, and I’d never seen him without his shirt. I’d never pushed the limit because I wasn’t willing to lose whatever we had.I was afraid.But after today, I couldn’t be afraid anymore—I wasn’t afraid anymore—to risk what we had in order to know if something more was possible.

When the tips of my fingers touched down on his bare skin, he shuddered so violently that it felt like I shuddered, too. Cautiously, under the guise of gripping the fabric, I gentlycharted the quarter inch of skin available to me… and realized two things. First, his skin was so warm, burning up under my fingers. And second, it didn’t feel like normal skin. It was smooth—too smooth—and then broken up by unnatural ridges.

Scars.My palms flattened on his back, his shirt forgotten.His entire back was gnarled with scars.

My cry of distress died in my throat when I realized Kit was frozen—his entire body as hard as stone. The knot in his jaw thrummed, and the heat of his breath blew in ragged bursts against my skin.Touching him was torturing him… and I didn’t want to torture him.

I slid my hands back to his shirt and pulled it up, his arms moving to comply. Once it was gone, I framed his face, savoring the feel of his soft stubble, and pulled his mouth to mine. The kiss broke his trance, and heat ignited like gasoline on an open flame, a different kind of hunger eking into every corner of the kiss.

His mouth traveled back down to my breasts, and I moaned at the way he worshipped them. Licked and sucked… but it was the soft bites that drove me insane. Little marks of possession. Pain mingled with pleasure. His big hands roamed the sides of my legs, bunching the bright fabric of my skirt even higher until one hand coasted underneath it.

A whimper pressed through my lips when his fingers traced the seam between my leg and hip, back and forth, each time getting closer and closer to where I wanted him most.

“Kit, please,” I begged, my hips rocking with a mind of their own.

His teeth locked on the peak of my nipple, holding it tight enough to make me gasp as he sent his hand gliding along the edge of my underwear and then sank it between us. As soon as his fingers hit the knot of my clit, his teeth released my nipple, and the flood of sensations made mesee stars.

“Kit!” I bucked against his hand, those skilled fingers gliding through my slick folds all the way to my entrance and back.

My body sizzled and sparked. My core clenched, aching for something more than before—something close to everything.

“You’re drenched, sea star,” he groaned appreciatively, pinning my clit prisoner as his thumb rubbed it again and again. “So wet for me. So fucking responsive.”

He’d said those words a dozen times to me, and each time, it sent a thrill of desire spiraling through my nerves.

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