“Why was he tormenting himself? It wasn’t her eyes, or her smile, or her spirit. It was her body. Lithe and supple with legs that stretched all the way up to her neck. He’d wanted them wrapped tightly around his waist. He wanted them now. He’d lied. He’d had a damned good view. He’d never known such sweet torture. It had taken every ounce of strength he possessed to sit there without revealing that he was aching with need, that his own body was rebelling. He’d wanted to snatch her out of that bl...asted water—water that was teasing her skin the way he wanted to—and carry her to the bed. If she hadn’t just experienced a horrific nightmare, he damned well might have. He rubbed the scar along the side of his face. He was just vain enough to wonder if she was repulsed by it, if she’d be nauseated by the others that marred his body. He’d been aware enough during his own recent ordeal to know that she’d touched them, wiped a damp cloth over them. At one point she’d leaned forward and kissed some of them.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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