Page 105 of The Vow

“Damon.” I watched him tip back, his beautifully hungry face swimming into focus. “You had your fill of me last night. Now, it’s my turn.”

I gave him a tug, wanting him to rise, and he stiffened in response. Was something wrong?What didn’t he want me to see?I thought back to the scars I’d seen staining the skin of his abdomen and chest.Was there more?

Carefully, he placed my feet on the ground one at a time to make sure I was steady before he stood.

“To be clear,” he growled, licking my desire from his lips and then dragging his tongue along his ring finger, the metal glistening with my desire. “I will never have myfillof you.”

Adelectable warmth oozed all the way down to my toes and then back up to my core. He bent toward me, clearly intending to kiss me again, but I stopped him with a hand to his chest. My eyes danced as they met his.

“Well, now, I want my fill of you, husband,” I said and gave him a small push back. My legs wobbled a little, but I ignored them and reached for his shirt, tugging the ends from his waistband.

Tipping my head up, I searched out his stare as my fingers poised on the top button of his shirt. Something I couldn’t make out dulled and then flashed in his gaze, like lightning behind a cloud.

But then his smooth voice promised, “I’m all yours,” and that was all I needed to hear.

I didn’t pop any buttons, but only because they freed so easily for my fingers. Pushing the expensive fabric off his shoulders, I tugged until his bare chest was all mine to admire.

He was so beautifully made. Even after fifteen years, his muscles had only become bigger. More defined. And decorated with scars. My fingers traced the exceptionally smooth spots where his skin had healed from injury. Fifteen years ago, I’d known his body like the back of my own hand, so I knew now which scars were new—that most of them were new.

Some were long and thin, I guessed from a blade. A few were round, and my heart lurched each time I came across one of those. A gunshot wound. I walked around him, wanting to memorize every change to the man who belonged to me…and wanting to hide how the swell of emotion in my chest threatened to break me down.

“How many times?” I croaked, staring at his back, my finger stuck on a third bullet hole on his left shoulder.

“How many times what, Robber?” His head turned, trying to find me over his shoulder, but I moved to stay out of hissight.

“How many times have you almost died?” My voice was nothing but threads, seeing another round scar lower near his right kidney.

A hand launched over his shoulder and snared my wrist, hauling me around him and clutching me to his front. His palm splayed over my face, and if there were any tears that slipped free, he’d caught them all.

“Not enough to keep me from coming back to you.” His head lowered, his lips tentatively—tenderly brushing mine.

For a second, I allowed myself to sag into the kiss—into the tempting strength of his embrace—but the second the kiss deepened, I knew where this was headed. If I didn’t stop him now, his lips would end up back between my thighs, making promises that would force me to forget everything that had happened to him, everything I was afraid of, and everything I wanted right now.

“Damon,” I murmured and drew back. “Please.”

I thought about going slowly, but the way he wanted me, and the way I wanted to let him have me, was so tempting that if I didn’t take the reins now, I wasn’t sure he’d give me another chance.

Without another word, I stepped back and reached between us, pressing my palm to the straining front of his pants, my eyes widening at the feel of his thickness reaching the bounds of my fingers. But there was something else…something wasn’t right…

“Rob—” He broke off with a strangled cry as I tightened my grip on his cock and then lurched forward, barely managing to slam his hand against the wall to stop him from crashing into me.

I hardly registered how I’d almost taken him down, all my attention anchored to the distinctly unnatural feel of his length. I might not have fucked a man in fifteen years,but I didn’t forget the feel of my husband’s cock…or my knowledge of basic anatomy.

Damon ripped my hand away with an animalistic sound, shoving himself off the wall and backing away several paces. His chest heaved with labored breaths.

“Damon—”

“Give me a second,” he ordered and held up his hand, but it was only the pleading look in his eyes that stopped me.

Keeping my back to the wall, I steadied my own breathing as I watched him. He moved with the uncertain ferocity of an animal that had been in captivity for years and had suddenly been released into the wild.

Still, I couldn’t keep my gaze from drifting lower. The long, bulging outline of him mocked the perfect fit of his pants. But the ridges…I’d been wrong when I’d brushed off the sight before as a distortion of fabric and shadow. It wasn’t. I’d felt him.

“What’s wrong?”

His throat worked hard, his eyes uncivilized as they roamed over me. Jerking out of his hungry daze, he drove a hand through his hair. “I want you too bad, Robber,” he growled.

“So then why did you stop me?”

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