Page 62 of Unapologetic Obsession
I yelped when he picked me up and settled me on the bed. I caught his scent—amber—emanating from him. Feeling a bit too warm, I gripped the sheets to steady myself.
“How much did you drink?”
“Not that much.” The lie tumbled out of my lips before I could stop myself.
I knew he would stop if I told him the truth—I was tanked. He was the good guy and wouldn’t take advantage of a drunk woman. But I had waited more than a decade for this moment and couldn’t risk sabotaging it.
“Good. Now tell me that you want me,” he said gruffly.
Want him? I wanted him so badly that I couldn’t think straight. “I want you.”
Blue eyes heated at my answer. With a hand flat on my belly, he pushed me onto the mattress. My head spun when my back collided with the firm surface. He seized my upper arms and crushed his mouth to mine. I automatically parted my lips, and he slipped his tongue inside, stroking mine with urgency. I brushed my tongue against his, and he inhaled sharply—an abrupt, harsh sound in the still room. I had hoped my acquiescence would center him. It had the opposite effect. He climbed on top of me, his mouth devouring mine like it was the end of the world.
I struggled for air.
But just as abruptly as they had descended on me, his lips disappeared. Slowly, he lifted the skirt of my dress. My eyes were on the ceiling, too chicken to meet his gaze. Because any second now, he would see the scars on my belly and behorrified after inspecting them up close. It was a difficult sight to stomach, even my parents couldn’t deal with it.
I should stop him or at least turn off the lights. But the gentle sway of the boat, the smell of water, and his amber scent created an intoxicating mix. It took longer to gather my strength and lift my arms. By the time my hand landed in his wavy locks, my dress was around my waist, and he had dragged my underwear to my ankles.
I angled my head and saw that his shirt was missing. My gaze returned to the ceiling while his rough hand explored every inch of my skin, caressing it like he was trying to memorize the pattern. It was unbearable and reverent all in one, and all thoughts of my hideous scars and flaws vanished from the way he worshipped my body.
The gentle caresses on my bare skin put me in a trance. I felt high, never wanting this feeling to end, and was only revived when he changed direction.
“What are you doing?”
He didn’t respond and pulled my dress over my head, then proceeded to undo my bra. No one had seen me naked before. My first instinct was to cover up, but the way he was staring at me, he was the furthest thing from scared. He was fascinated, tracing every mark with the brush of his fingers. When I swatted his hand away, he dragged me to the edge of the bed and put his mouth on the largest scar on my belly and traced it with his tongue.
I gasped. “Stop that.” I tried to pull away, but a firm hand on my hip kept me in place.
Was he insane?
I was entirely out of breath when he repeated the motion of kissing and licking my scars. At some point, it dawned on me that he had taken off his pants.
I had never seen a naked man and was suddenly too intimidated. My gaze bounced between his muscular torso and the ceiling. Finally, I shut my eyes.
I sensed, rather than saw, his head dipping, before a set of lips were on my inner thighs.
I jolted. “What are you—” My voice died away when he peppered my thighs with soft kisses.
I let out a soft moan, and my toes curled. I had always felt the urges of a normal twenty-one-year-old woman, but the intimidation of touching a man kept me from acting on them. But now, it was sensory overload.
“Have you done this before?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“You’re a virgin,” he stated rather than asked. There was an undertone of possessiveness in his voice, one I hadn’t expected from the easygoing Damon.
He waited for a verbal confirmation, lifting his head to stare into my eyes.
I nodded shakily.
The way his eyes flared—a glint of something more than lewd—made me retreat. I knew then that something had shifted between us.
His blue eyes deepened to a frighteningly dark color. What was going through his mind? “I’ve never been with a virgin. What made you wait?”
My lips parted as I watched him.
When I didn’t respond, he answered his own question. “The correct answer is—you were waiting for me.”
