Boarlander Bash Bear 2(23)

Inside, Bash closed the door and pressed his lips to hers, pushed his tongue against hers. Emerson went completely pliable in his capable hands. She slipped her fingertips under the hem of his shirt and touched the warm skin right above his hip bones.

Bash jerked his pelvis and chuckled into her mouth. With a sexy smack of his lips, he eased away and said, “That tickled. If you’re going to touch me, woman, mean it.” Eyes locked on hers, he pulled his shirt slowly over his head, his eight-pack rippling and flexing with his movement. Emerson gave a slow, stunned blink at his Adonis body, but a puckered, uneven mark on his shoulder drew her attention. She reached for it, hesitated inches away, then pressed the pad of her fingertip to the scar. Bash searched her face with a troubled look but didn’t flinch away.

“What’s this?” she asked.

His Adam’s apple dipped low in his throat as he swallowed hard. Softly, Bash answered, “Dragon’s fire.”

Sadness pooled in his eyes now and something more. Disappointment, perhaps. Slowly, she turned him and gasped when she saw his back. Bash had been badly burned.

“I don’t like people seeing it. Especially not Harrison.”

“Why not?” she asked, pressing her palms against his hot skin.

“Because I got it trying to save him.”

“Trying to save him,” she whispered. Harrison was still alive, so Bash had succeeded.

“I got it saving him,” he corrected himself. “I don’t want him to feel bad, so I keep it hidden. And I don’t like the way it looks.”

Emerson’s eyes burned, and she blinked hard. She couldn’t even imagine the pain he’d been in to heal from burns like these. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his scarred skin. “I like the way it looks, but I understand. I don’t like things about my body either. You don’t have to worry about what I think, though, Bash. You are perfect. You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, and I’m the luckiest that you picked me.”

His back relaxed under her cheek, and he slid his giant hand over hers where she hugged his stomach. “What don’t you like about your body?”

Her cheeks heated, but he had been brave by showing his secret self, so she would find courage for him. “I’m soft. See?” She pulled off her tank top and cut-off shorts and then squeezed her eyes closed so she wouldn’t be embarrassed by his reaction. She’d only fooled around with boyfriends with the lights off, and Bash’s living room was streaked with sunlight filtering through the half-open blinds of the back window.

He didn’t say a word, but his hand brushed down her ribs. She flinched as he ran his touch across her belly, and when he reached around her and unsnapped her leopard print bra, she squeaked in mortification.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered.

She huffed a scared breath and braved a look at him. His head was canted, and his eyes reflected oddly, like an animal’s in firelight. The color there was lighter and brighter, but that didn’t mask the awe reflected in them. He pulled her palm and pressed it onto his erection, tight against the seam of his jeans. It was huge and hard as a rock. “You don’t have to be scared in front of me. I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful.”

“You don’t mind if I’m…soft?”

Bash grinned as he dragged her waist against his. “Woman, you’re shaped like a number eight. That’s my favorite number.” He cupped her breast and shifted their weight slowly to one side. “I like your soft parts the most.”

“But…you look like a fitness model, and I’m…I don’t know. I’m not magazine-model beautiful.”

Bash pulled her closer and hugged her tight against his chest, swaying in a sweet, slow dance that was putting her insecurities to rest step-by-step. “You’re beautiful when your face lights up in that easy smile. And when you laugh with me, not at me. You’re beautiful in that tank top and cutoffs, owning your sexy body. You’re beautiful when you’re nice to people. Beautiful wild hair and perfect curves, and those cheetah eyes that light up when you see me. No, you don’t look like a magazine model. You look better.”

Her heart was now a puddle on the floor. It had vacated her body and melted, and now she was really going to cry. How had she lived her entire life without Bash? Her bone-deep loneliness seemed so far away now with him holding her so tightly. She’d never felt so happy or safe in her entire life.

Pushing upward on her tiptoes, she kissed him and wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, then whispered, “I like you.”