Stripped
“Slowly, gently, finding all the jagged edges and imperfections in her knitted flesh. Fighting not to tense under his touch, Fiona opened her eyes to find him lying on his belly, head half on her pillow, half on his, and his gaze trained on the steady movements of his fingers. Her voice was strained when she murmured, “Morning.” “Mornin’.” Soft light filtered through the blinds covering her bedroom window. The comforter lay twisted at the foot of the bed, but the turquoise top sheet covered D...eclan to the waist, her to the juncture of her thighs. That she flashed him her privates worried her much less than the visual she was providing with her belly. Her voice was scratchy, with nerves and with sleep, when she mumbled, “You’re the first person to touch me there.” No one but the doctors, and then no one but Fiona herself.
A kiss to her navel. “Tell me about Vegas.”
“Can you…stop touching me, while I talk?” It was just too much sensation, too much numbness cracking open at one time for her to handle.MoreLess
A kiss to her navel. “Tell me about Vegas.”
“Can you…stop touching me, while I talk?” It was just too much sensation, too much numbness cracking open at one time for her to handle.MoreLess
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