Page 50 of Serve and Protect
She stares at my chest and arms long enough I start to feel self-conscious. I’m no gym rat, but I’m also not a couch potato. Ihave a decent amount of muscle on me, not from lifting weights but from chopping wood, shoveling snow, and chasing down suspects. Is she disappointed?
She lays her palms against my chest, fanning them out over my pecs. She skims her delicate fingertips across the little bit of chest hair I have. For a moment, I’m distracted by her pretty fingers topped with peach nail polish. She has a few dark tatts on the fingers of her left hand, symbols that I’m sure carry important meaning for her. There are three thin black lines tattooed around her arm just below her left elbow.
“What do these three lines represent?” I ask as I trace the ink.
She smiles at me. “What do you think they mean?”
She’s looking at me like I should know the answer. “The three of us? You, me, and Micah? The threeamigos?”
Her entire face lights up. “Yes. I got them right after you guys left Bryce. The tattoo made me feel less alone, like we were still together even if we’d gone our separate ways.”
My heart cracks open. “God, I was such a selfish asshole back then. I didn’t stop to think about what our leaving would do to you.”
“Don’t you dare blame yourself,” she says. Her eyes start to glisten as she’s on the verge of tears. “You weren’t being selfish. You were just living your life. I would never want to be the friend who held you back.”
I cup her face with my left hand. “I don’t deserve you, but as I already admitted, I’m a selfish asshole.” I lean down to kiss her, my mouth settling on hers. She opens for me, and I slide my tongue inside, licking and tasting and stroking her. She tastes like red wine.
Jennie’s fingers skim down my chest, following the trail of dark hair that bisects my abdomen and disappears beneath the waistband of my jeans. Her fingertips pause a moment to ringmy belly button before continuing down to my waistband. I suck in a breath in anticipation of what she’s going to do next.
When she reaches for my belt buckle, I take a step back. “Maybe we should hold off on that a bit.” When she looks confused, I add, “It’s been a while for me, Jennie.”
She still looks confused. “It’s been a while for me, too.”
“Yeah, well, I’m a guy. It’s not going to take much for me to go off like a rocket after a long dry spell, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh.” She smiles.
“So, let’s just focus on you tonight, all right?”
She grabs the hem of her top and whips it over her head like it’s nothing. Her confidence is a total turn-on. Even after all she’s been through, she’s not afraid.
The sight of her in a plain white bra is enough to make my brain explode. I’ve imagined this sight a million times, but it was never this good. I stare at the round tops of her breasts peeking out above the cups, the soft brown of her skin contrasting against the stark white material of her bra. I can make out the dusky shadows of her nipples beneath the fabric.
Before I can even fire off a coherent thought, she reaches back and unclips her bra, letting it fall to the floor. Her breasts—my God. I swallow hard. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”
She smiles again, which eases some of the concern I have that this is too much, too soon, after what she’s been through. But she doesn’t seem timid or unsure. Quite the contrary, she seems confident, which I find hot as hell.
I can’t help staring at the most beautiful pair of breasts I’ve ever seen. They’re simply gorgeous. Her lush brown nipples are a darker shade than her skin. I lift my good hand and cup her right breast, which fills my hand perfectly. When I brush her nipple lightly with my thumb, it tightens into a sweet little point.
When she leans into my touch, pressing her breast into my palm, it’s like she lit a fire in me. I drop my hand to her lower back and draw her in closer. My mouth returns to hers, my lips gliding over hers, coaxing them, nudging them open.
Our kiss heats quickly, our lips and our tongues striving to get closer. We’re both breathing hard, panting, trying to catch our breath. I cup the back of her head, threading my fingers through the silky strands of her hair. God, I’ve always wanted to touch her like this. To kiss her, breathe her in, immerse myself in her. But I sure as hell never dreamed this day would come.
She grasps the waistband of my pants and pulls me closer, sucking in a breath when she feels my erection pressing against her body. But she doesn’t shy away from the contact. If anything, she urges me closer. It’s like neither one of us can get close enough.
I know how to fix that.
I walk her to the foot of her bed and start unfastening her jeans. It’s difficult for me to do one-handed, and she quickly realizes what I’m trying to do and jumps in to help me. She kicks off her sneakers, and soon her jeans and pink cotton panties are lying on the floor at our feet.
“Lie back,” I murmur.
She sits on the edge of the bed, and when I push her gently, she falls onto her back. She scoots up until her head rests on a pillow.
For a moment, I’m rooted to the spot, unable to look away. She’s shamelessly and gloriously naked, right in front of me, and my brain is short-circuiting. I run my hands up her legs, from her ankles to the tops of her thighs. Her body is gorgeous, with all its dips and curves and lush flesh. I run my hands over her hip bones and over her soft, rounded belly.
I’m trying not to be greedy, but I want to eat her up. I want to breathe her in, taste her, lick and suck every single inch of her.
I move up onto the bed to lie beside her. I kiss her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose. My mouth settles on hers once more, and we share the same air, our ragged breaths mingling just as our tongues do. I trail kisses down the side of her face to her neck, her throat, down to her clavicles.
