Keep Me(94)

I look at him, my throat tightening as I imagine eight-year-old Julian pulling that trigger. I don’t know what to say, how to assuage his guilt over that long-ago event, and anger at Juan Esguerra fills my chest. “You know, if your father were alive, I would shoot him too,” I say savagely, causing Julian to let out a delighted chuckle.

“Oh, yes, I’m sure you would,” he says, grinning at me. The expression should’ve looked grotesque on his bruised and swollen face, but somehow it looks sexy instead. Even beat-up, bandaged like a mummy, and with several days’ worth of dark stubble on his jaw, my husband radiates an animal magnetism that transcends mere looks. The doctors told us that his face will be nearly normal once everything is healed, but even if it isn’t, I strongly suspect Julian will be just as seductive with an eye patch and some scars.

As though in response to my thoughts, his hand on my thigh moves higher, toward the juncture between my legs. “My fierce little darling,” he murmurs, his grin fading as a familiar heated gleam appears in his uncovered eye. “So delicate, yet so ferocious . . . I wish you could’ve seen yourself that day, baby. You were magnificent when you faced Majid, so brave and beautiful . . .” His fingers press roughly on my clit through my jeans, and I suck in a startled breath, my nipples hardening as a surge of liquid need dampens my sex.

“Yes, that’s right, baby,” he whispers, his fingers moving upward to my zipper. “You with that weapon was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” The zipper slides down with a metallic hiss, the sound strangely erotic, and my core clenches with a sudden desperate ache.

“Um, Julian . . .” My breathing is uneven, my heartbeat speeding up as Julian’s hand delves into the open fly of my jeans. “What—what are you doing?”

His lips curve in a wicked half-smile. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“But . . . but you can’t . . .” The sentence devolves into a moan as his fingers boldly push into my underwear and cup my sex, his middle finger slipping between my wet folds to massage my throbbing clit. The heat that blasts through my nerve endings feels almost like an electric spark, every hair on my body standing up in response to the zing of pleasure. I gasp, feeling the tension gathering inside me, but before I can reach my peak, Julian’s fingers withdraw, leaving me hovering on the edge.

“Take off your clothes, then climb on top,” he orders hoarsely, pulling back the blanket to reveal a hospital gown tented with a massive erection. “I need to fuck you. Now.”

I hesitate for a moment, worried about his injuries, and Julian’s jaw tightens in displeasure.

“I mean it, Nora. Take those clothes off.”

Gulping, I jump off the bed, unable to believe that I feel the compulsion to obey him even now. His left arm is in a cast, he can barely move without pain, and yet my instinctive response is to fear him—to want him and fear him at the same time.

“And lock the door,” he commands as I begin to pull my shirt up. “I don’t want to be interrupted.”

“Okay.”

Leaving my shirt on, I hurry over to the door to turn the lock that gives us privacy. Every step I take reminds me of the pulsing heat between my legs, my tight jeans rubbing against my sensitized clit and adding to my arousal.

When I return, Julian is in a semi-reclining position on the bed, his gown untied at the front and his hand stroking his erect cock. There is a stiff bandage around his ribs, but it does nothing to detract from the raw power of his muscular body. Even wounded, he manages to dominate the room, his appeal as magnetic as ever.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, watching me with a heavy-lidded stare. “Now strip for me, baby. I want to see your sexy little ass wriggling out of those jeans.”

I sink my teeth into my lower lip, the heat in his gaze turning me on even more. “All right,” I whisper, and turning my back to him, I bend forward and slowly pull down my jeans, making sure to sway my hips from side to side as I expose my thong-clad ass to his eyes.

When the jeans are all the way down to my ankles, I turn back to face him and kick off my shoes, then step out of my jeans, leaving them lying on the floor. Julian watches my movements with undisguised lust, his breathing becoming heavy as the tip of his cock starts to glisten with moisture. He’s no longer touching himself, his hands clutching the sheets instead, and I know it’s because he’s close to coming, the hard column of his sex jutting up in defiance of gravity.

Keeping my eyes trained on him, I proceed to take off my shirt, pulling it up over my head in a slow, teasing motion. Underneath, I’m wearing a silky white bra that matches my thong. I bought several outfits online earlier in the week, and I’m glad I decided to get a few nicer underwear sets. I love to see that look of uncontrollable hunger on Julian’s face—the expression that says he would move mountains to have me at that moment.