Page 44 of Tethered to the World
She nodded, but when he slowly straightened as if to stand, she clung to him, her heart rocketing against her ribs at the thought of him leaving.
“Hold onto me.” Xander balanced her on his knees, then grabbed the back of his shirt, drawing it over his head.
She loosened her hold enough for him to toss the shirt away, and then stiffened at his nakedness, not sure what to do with herself. When he kicked back the recliner, she squealed when she was flung forward and ended up plastered against him. He grabbed her behind the knees, then lifted her, until she was straddling him.
When all she could do was gape at him, he just shrugged. “You need a distraction. Me. I guarantee the last thing on your mind will be the basement or your uncle.”
Chapter Twelve
“Conceited, much?” Annora snorted, but couldn’t argue the fact that he had a right to be.
The man was ripped, a living piece of artwork.
She glanced down at the large expanse of Xander’s chest, and didn’t have the first clue what to do. “What if I do it wrong?”
He swept his fingers gently back and forth across the back of her hand, from fingertips to wrists and back again, watching her reaction. “Do you enjoy that?”
“I’m not sure.” His touch left her skin tingling, her body aching for something she couldn’t name. He raised an eyebrow at her, as if she’d challenged him.
“How about this?” He lowered his hand slightly, then dragged his fingers lazily up and down her leg from knee to hip.
After the second pass, she closed her eyes and shivered. When he stopped, her eyes popped open, and he picked up her hand then placed it against his chest. He reached up, cupped the back of her neck, sinking his fingers into her hair and massaging her scalp. “While fists can hurt, touch can also heal. A simple kiss can bring enormous pleasure.”
Annora was seduced by his words as much as his touch. “Then kiss me. Show me there’s something besides terror and pain in the world.”
He sat slowly, the chair folding them together, until she was plastered against his chest, their mouths only inches away. He licked his bottom lip while he scanned her face, his eyes dark with hunger. She stiffened at his closeness, unable to stop herself. Though the desire was still there, underneath lingered a thread of doubt.
She waited for his hands to tighten, his lips to turn cruel. She barely managed to keep her pulse in check, a tiny part of her that her uncle hadn’t destroyed reveling in the attention.
But the asshole shook his head. “If you want a kiss…take it.”
Her eyes unconsciously dropped to his lips, and she suddenly worried that a single kiss might consume her. With his closely cropped beard covering half his face, he looked devilishly handsome, a man who knew what he wanted and demanded everything in return.
A demand she wasn’t sure she would survive.
He was so far beyond her experience, she had no idea how to respond. The line between desire and danger was a razor’s edge, but she couldn’t make herself move away. He drew her in a way the others didn’t. The threat of violence lingered around him, resting just below the surface—that readiness calling to something within her.
He lazily surveyed her with those teal eyes of his, and she knew he didn’t miss a detail—her fear…her desire. Wanting to escape, she noted the scars along his body, and she traced her fingers along a nasty one on his shoulder. “I thought shifters were impervious to blemishes. Don’t you heal too fast to have them?”
The only scars she had were on the inside, deeper and uglier than she cared to admit. Besides the scars on his back, his torso had more than a few silvery marks, along with a couple more wicked injuries.
His eyes narrowed slightly, then he relaxed back into the seat, separating them. Though she instantly missed the heat, the urge to ghost him gradually faded. She needed to get used to others touching her. Vanishing in front of strangers was a sure-fire way of drawing attention to herself.
“Life-threatening wounds can leave scars. Injuries infused with the right combination of metal and poisons is another way.”
Which might account for a few, but it wasn’t all of them. “And?”
He dragged his fingertips over the inside seam of her jeans absently. “Our beasts only wake up after puberty, some even later. While a few injuries might heal when we first shift, sometimes there are just too many.”
“Your father?”
He only shrugged.
Darkness stirred, and she wanted to find the man who would beat his own child and show him true terror. Her nails bit into her palms as she clenched her fists, and she relished the pain. “I hope your father got what he deserved.”
“Yes.” He tucked his hands behind his head, leaving his body on display. Muscles shifted, and she couldn’t help the way her eyes followed the movement, effectively distracting her.
“Touch me,” he whispered huskily.
