Page 227 of The Perfect Wrong

I need her to know we’re picking up right where we left off.

When she crumples against me with a fluttering moan, I lift my hand up and suck my fingers, making sure our eyes stay locked.

“This.This is all I thought about when those fuckers were pounding me to a bloody mess.” The confession spills out of me. Delia’s eyes go wide, concern and sadness swirling with her lust. “Your taste, your body, your heart, your everything, baby. You kept me sane. You kept me alive.”

“Chris...” Her red lips quiver.

So does mine for a different reason.

Hearing my name on her lips with that need boiling up her throat isdangerous.

It’s everything I’ve waited months to hear, and all I need to send her over the edge, gliding with me.

Growling, I spread her legs, plying my hips between them, grinding the hard-on from hell against her clit.

Pleasure oozes out of her hot red lips as I shove her against the wall, the shower already an afterthought.

She knows how we are and how we’ll always be.

We’ll clean up after we’re finished, and then we’ll get dirty all over again.

With a shaking whimper, she tears at my clothes, grabbing my shirt and digging her nails in the fabric.

“Patience,” I tease, nipping her bottom lip with my teeth.

She gives me a look that’s too serious.

I almost laugh as I help her, moving her hands over my body and kicking my clothes to the floor. I’m still a walking pile of fading bruises and scars from the surgeries, but I don’t give a damn, and neither does she.

She’s so ready for me to show her exactly how I aim to heal us with every breathless minute tonight.

“Oh, God.” She gently fingers the fresh scars next to my trident tattoo. They’re fresh chaos, breaking across the dragon’s scales in jagged lines. “They must’ve hurt youbad.”

I shrug. “They’re fading, babe. Hardly permanent. The doctor thought they’ll barely be visible in a few more months. I’d say I got off pretty lightly, minus the broken ribs.”

I try not to remember the agony of that rotten fuck’s designer boots coming down on my chest.

The scars on my face were worse, torn stripes that bled for days. Thankfully, they’re healing even faster, and I no longer need to worry about my woman kissing a red-faced mutant man.

For a second, she hangs her head before she looks back at me, stunned and hurt and more than a little scared.

“I’m so sorry, Chris. I just wish—”

“Enough. You know we’re not here to revisit my torture for the umpteenth time,” I whisper, pushing a finger over her lips.

Not the reaction I want.

Grabbing her hands, I fold them around my back, dragging my hard cock against her folds again, teasing away her sadness with slow, raking thrusts.

I scrape my stubble over her throat before my lips find her skin again.

It doesn’t take long.

I’ll always fucking adore how responsive she is, how our chemistry screamsmade for each other.

Delia melts into me, moaning and sliding her hands down to my ass.

“That’s it, princess. Right the hell there,” I whisper.

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