Page 55 of Waging War
My hands glide over his massive shoulders toward his shoulder blades, and I freeze.
“What is it?” he asks lazily around the nipple he’s teasing.
Peeking over his shoulder, I gasp. “Oh my God.”
Realizing what I’ve seen, he bucks me back onto his lap, and for the barest second, the stone expression he wears scares me.
“What is that? What… what happened to you?”
Ben folds into himself, and though I’m straddling him, he’s detached himself with a gaze cast toward the floor.
“Nothing.”
I point to the deep, jagged wounds and thick scars that appear to be freshly healed. “Thatis not nothing. Tell me who did that to you.”
A black ring crowds my vision as my pulse quickens. He’s been beaten—and by looks of it, recently. Whatever monster did this to him is going to pay. Greatly.
“Come back to me,” he says.
I blink several times before realizing my nails are digging into his biceps hard enough to leave little crescent marks.
“While I appreciate your thirst for blood on my behalf, hellion, what’s done is done.”
The stubble covering his cheeks tickles my palms when I grab him. His guard is down, and selfishly, I search every barren space of his soul for as long as he allows me.
My chest aches, my bones freezing over. “Why has he done this to you?”
I know it was Diablo—it’s stamped over every inch and angle of his face. Something flickers in Ben’s gaze, but it’s gone before I can catch it.
“He was keeping me in line for visiting The Pound.” Jerking away from my hands, he mutters an apology. “I’m sorry. This wasn’t a good idea.”
I grab him, pulling him back to me. “Says who? I’m still here, Ben. I’m not going anywhere.”
The gravity of that statement shakes me, but I hold steady as he studies me.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Hazel.”
He leans back into me, rubbing his forehead over my shoulder and planting kisses along the hollow space there.
“You say that as if you already have.”
I stroke his skin everywhere, coaxing him away from the darkness and back to where we’re connected. Here, he doesn’t have to be Diablo’s enforcer—he can justbe.
When his teeth scrape the outer curve of my breast, I moan.
“Yes. That’s right, Hazel,” he whispers. “Say my name.”
And I do. Lost in this whirlwind that has bred our chaos, I cradle his head as he laps at me hungrily while I grind against his erection. Growling at the barrier of my leather pants, he moves a hand toward the waistband.
I snag it before rolling us forward, pressing him flat on his back. “Wait here.”
A slow smirk builds, exciting me. “What are you up to, woman?”
I take my time unbuttoning his pants and sliding down the zipper. Each brush of my fingers over his hardness causes my heart to skip a beat. I remove his boots before hooking my fingers over the top of his pants, dragging them down until I’m able to shimmy them off his ankles.
I rise, toying with the top of my pants. My hips roll as I touch myself over them.
Ben rests one arm behind his head, flaunting a lazy smile. He’s breathtaking, all six-foot-something spread and waiting for me. Those long, muscular legs part slightly, and at the middle of his pelvis is that tantalizing length I can’t seem to tear my gaze from.
