Muscle for Hire(58)

The second she stepped out of the bunched item of clothing and destroyed the space between her and Aslin, she knew she was doing exactly what she wanted to do.

The second—the very second—she took Aslin’s large, strong hands and placed them gently on the curve of her hips, gazing up into his dark, desire-filled eyes, she knew she was exactly with the only person she ever wanted to be with again.

And when he groaned, a barely audible sound of raw need and tenuous control that she felt it in the pit of her belly, she knew he was the person she was meant for.

He was the strength she never allowed herself to believe she needed.

The protection she’d never sought.

The man she didn’t know she longed for.

“Aslin,” she murmured, smoothing her hands up his chest, reveling in the coiled steel of his pecs, “you’ll only hurt me if you say stop.”

“Oh, fuck me.” The words were a hoarse moan. His stare was locked on her, his jaw tight. “I should say stop. You’re in no condition to make love, Rowan. I’d be a sodding, selfish bastard if I—”

She turned and walked away from him, three steps, four, until she reached the bed, the massive bed beside the floor-to-ceiling window with its views of Sydney beyond. She stopped and climbed onto the soft mattress, one knee and then the other, presenting him the sight of her naked ass, her moisture-slick pussy, before lowering completely to the bed on her side and gazing back at him.

“I trust you, Rhodes,” she said, watching him watching her. “I trust you, I’m in love with you and I know you won’t hurt me.”

He didn’t move. “Say that again.”

“I trust you. I love you.”

His Adam’s apple worked up and down his throat. He walked to the bed, his stride long and steady.

“Say that again.”

She smiled at the tenuous control in his deep voice. “I trust you, I love you and I know you won’t hurt me. Now shut the fuck up and make love to me. Before I risk reinjuring myself by handing you your ass. Again.”

His nostrils flared. “One of these days I’m really going to regret being bested by you.”

“You are?”

Aslin shook his head. “No.”

Rowan laughed, and then the sound faded away as Aslin’s hand circled her ankle.

She held her breath, unable to tear her stare from his face as he lowered his gaze to where his fingers wrapped her flesh.

He smoothed his palm up her calf, not a lot, but enough to send a shiver through Rowan’s entire body. She moaned, her nipples pinching tight at the caress.

His chest rose with a long, deep breath, his fingers splaying a little as he pressed his knee onto the bed beside her leg. She slowly rolled onto her back, parting her thighs to grant him more room on the bed.

He drew in another breath and lifted his gaze to her pussy. His throat worked again, the muscles of his jaw knotting, his battle with control turning his muscles to coiled steel. His undeniable, restrained power flooded Rowan’s sex with moisture. She was right to fall in love with this man. As unexpected as it was, it was so right.

Perfect.

She shifted a little, biting back a soft wince as her bruised rib did its best to remind her she’d recently been in an accident.

Aslin’s stare flicked to her face at the low sound, the tension in his body claiming his face.

“Rowan…” he murmured, straightening away from her, his fingers sliding off her calf.

She stopped his retreat with a quick hand, shaking her head as she maneuvered onto her knees before him. “I’m fine, Aslin. I hurt more when you aren’t touching me.”

And to prove her point, she lifted his hand and placed it on her breast.





Chapter Fourteen

A ragged groan tore from Aslin’s chest. He gazed into her eyes, so close her warmth folded around him, and yet still so far away. Too far away. Just one hand on her body. One.

It wasn’t enough.

It made his head swim and his body burn.

But as much as he wanted to shove Rowan backward, cover her body with his and bury himself to the hilt in her tight, wet sex, he couldn’t. He shouldn’t even be touching her now.

As if aware of his torment, Rowan took charge.

Without a word, she captured his other hand in a gentle grip, lifted it to her mouth and pressed her lips to the centre of his palm.

The cut on her bottom lip from the explosion scratched against his skin, and with the sensation came guilt.

“Rowan.” He tried to pull his hand away, but her fingers on his wrist grew firm.

“I’ve spent my entire adult life conditioning my body to switch off pain, Rhodes,” she said, her breath warm on his palm, her gaze holding him prisoner. “Training my brain to deny its presence. What I haven’t done is teach my body and mind and soul to ignore the pleasure you awaken in me.”