Page 31 of Make You Love Me
Before I can finish the sentence, his hand braces the back of my head and connects our lips. He’s rough, greedy, and giving me exactly what I like. Desire heats my core, and God help me, I want what my body begs me to take.
But it would be wrong. This is wrong.
I drop back on my heels, adding some much-needed reason and space to the moment.
“Should we start with…um…your shirt?” I ask, trying to think of anything but the rock-hard body he gained over the last year.
Work emails. Insurance. Taxes. Puppies frolicking in wildflowers. Anything innocent, boring, and the exact opposite of this gorgeous man I’m about to strip down to his skin. Just the thought of seeing him shirtless is making me second-guess my self-imposed chastity belt. It’s feeling more like a noose the longer his navy eyes sink into mine. Desire snaps into the air and sweat beads on my back. It’s more intense than I anticipated, and for the first time in my adult life, I don’t know what to do.
He smells amazing. And if he doesn’t stop looking at me like he wants to rip off my clothes and make me scream in surrender, this week will either break me or my vibrator.
I’m frozen to my spot when his hand takes mine and wakes me from my stupor. His eyes never leave my face as he presses my fingers to the hem of the shirt he’s wearing. More than anything, I want to look away, yet I don’t. Can’t.
I grip his shirt because I desperately need something to ground me. Something to help me feel like I’m not drowning in him. Careful not to touch his smooth skin, I pull up the fabric, slowly exposing two sharply defined abs at a time. I swallow—my mouth suddenly as dry as paper.
He pulls his right arm through the sleeve, and I push the shirt over his uninjured shoulder, admiring the solid frame. His chest rises and falls at the same rapid pace as my pulse. Freeing the shirt from around his neck finally breaks the hold his gaze hasover me. Every smoldering nerve ending poking at me to act on impulse fizzles while I concentrate on unhooking the sling around his left arm. As I carefully slide his tender arm through the shirt, his body tenses from the movement, but he doesn’t make a sound.
Instead, eyes dulled with desire continue watching my every move. Since I’m the only one who knows this is a temporary arrangement, I stay on task, determined to be the rational one.
Setting aside the discarded shirt, I rise to my knees to pull the new one over his head. Ten months of celibacy has me pausing and garnering a glance at the man before me. He’s thick with muscle and broader than the last time I saw him like this. A thin layer of light hair glistens on his chest in the early sunlight. My fingers itch to touch it and feel the swell of his pecs underneath.
Squashing the thought because it has no business entering my brain, my eyes trail up to his strong jawline. The morning stubble gives him a different look than I’m used to—like he’s thrown the military rule book out the window. Coupled with his new muscle and longer hair, this rugged rebellious style looks damn good on him.
His jaw clenches, a distracting motion while his hand wanders to my lower back. A subtle reminder to exercise control before we do something we can’t take back. But that control wavers when I pull the shirt over his head, and his warm palm slips under my cropped sweatshirt. He cups my waist, his thumb gliding over my skin in long, languid strokes.
Blood momentarily stops in my veins and the rest of me freezes. I shiver in response to his hand trailing upward. He’s always had the power to reduce me to a bumbling mess with one touch, one kiss, one glorious orgasm at a time. It’s why, despite my aversion to commitment, I kept coming back for more. Why I could never tell himnowhen he asked to see me before deploying or while on leave. It’s why no matter how I felt aboutrelationships, I had to have him. He was and still is my greatest weakness.
His dark blond hair springs through the opening before his forehead. I drag the shirt down over his eyes, regretting it the moment they reopen and find mine. The deep color captivates me. How have I never noticed the specs of copper in his irises, floating like fall leaves on the darkest, purest oceans? And why did it take almost losing him forever to appreciate the qualities that make him special? Not just his handsome appearance, but his heart, his compassion, and the way he accepts everyone for who they are. Me, in particular, flaws and all.
Not that it changes anything. I still can’t give him what he wants, and soon he’ll remember how he feels about me. My only job is to not make it worse in the meantime.
I do what I can to get his arms inside the shirt without causing too much discomfort. He grimaces only a few times, and I call that a win as I pull it down over his torso.
This is torture. How am I going to dress and undress him daily and survive it?
My heart revs at the thought of our next task—removing his shorts. He must sense my unease, interpreting it as caged lust, and locks me in a one-arm embrace. He isn’t entirely wrong. The man is sexy as hell, and I wish I could enjoy this. I wish the feel of his arm wrapped lovingly around me didn’t feel like betrayal.
“You’re going to have to wear the shorts you have on,” I say to break the tension, my voice sounding airier than intended.
“Can’t control yourself around me, can you?”
“No,” I answer honestly and stand to escape this little entrapment before he can advance it further. “Let’s get you to the bathroom, and while you finish getting ready, I’ll pack breakfast.”
I insert his arm into the sling and get him to his feet, but once he’s upright, his eyes glass over. Panic engulfs me when he wobbles. He’ll be too heavy to hold if he passes out.
I frame his face with my hands. “Jordan, look at me.”
His eyes roll back as his eyelids flutter closed. The one good leg holding him up trembles, flaring my fear.
“Jordan,” I try louder, and he responds, except his gaze is distant. “Focus on my voice. I won’t let you go. I’ve got you.”
Tears spring to the corner of his eyes, but don’t fall.
“I know, babe. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you’ll get a little better every day. Every activity will make you stronger. Think about the fun adventure we’re taking today.”
He blinks hard and his hand balls into a fist.
“That’s it. Come back to me. We’ll use that list of yours and find something to take your mind off this.”
