The tattoo did a pretty good job of covering most of the burn scars, but the skin was still marred and bumpy underneath. A tear slipped from her eye, and Vincent’s thumb was suddenly there, wiping it away. She opened her eyes and spied their reflection in the mirror. His eyes were narrowed in anger, and her forehead crinkled, wondering what pissed him off.
“Vincent?”
“Those bastards must not understand beauty,” he grunted, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. He lowered his head and kissed her left shoulder then her right, and then along the base of her neck. She sucked in a breath when his tongue flicked out, licking the ruined skin.
“Vincent,” she whispered. “You can’t possibly think that is beauty.”
“I do,” he argued, his kisses trailing even lower, touching each vertebra.
Her legs quivered at the overload of sensations, and his arm snaked around her waist to hold her up. “No one’s touched me there…since…since before…” She trailed off, unable to finish as another tear slipped from her eye, filled with bitterness at what she thought she’d lost.
He straightened behind her, nuzzling her neck. “Then I’m happy to be the first. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Natalie. The phoenix was a nice touch.”
She smiled and rested her head back. “I thought so.” He was so comforting, she never wanted to leave his arms. All she had to do was drop the towel at her feet and see what happened next, but his mother would be there soon. When she gave herself to Vincent, she didn’t want an hour. She wanted days.
As if reading her mind, his arm tightened around her middle and he kissed her earlobe, sucking on it hard as he growled, “I guess I should let you finish getting ready.”
“You probably should.”
Neither made a move to separate, and Natalie chuckled. How the hell would they make it through dinner tonight? The lips between her legs were swollen, and one shimmy of her thighs told her they cried for his touch, throbbing with want. And she wasn’t the only one having problems. His erection was a welcome presence against her lower back. For the past few years, she’d expected to remain alone, unable to find a man who could see past the scars to the woman beneath, but she was with a man who clearly wanted her even after he saw her back.
He planted one final kiss on her cheek and let her go. “I’ll be downstairs in a few,” he promised.
She watched him go, her hand holding up the towel nearly letting it drop, but she stopped herself. After she was dressed in a snug black dress with a scoop neck and two short slits up the sides, she considered her choice of outfit tonight. Her arms, usually covered by sleeves, were visible in the sleeveless dress. Vincent said he wanted her to be herself and that’s who she would start being—scars, tattoos, piercings, and all.
An hour later, she heard Vincent’s steps thunder downstairs. He poked his head into the kitchen and cursed. “Jesus, woman, are you trying to drive me insane?” His arms wrapped around her middle and kissed her neck as she squealed, his fingers tickling her ribs.
“Stop it! I have to finish this,” she argued, smacking him playfully with the oven mitt.
“Fine, fine. I’ll just have to come back for more later.”
His words sent a white-hot thrill through her body, and she clamped her thighs together. “Go wait for your mother—out of grabbing reach of me, preferably. Too much more of you and I’ll burn the damn steaks.”
He sauntered away, whistling as he went, and Natalie sank against the counter, trying to collect herself before their guests arrived. How long could a dinner last, anyway?
* * *
Stop talking and just leave already, Vincent thought, annoyed, as he poured himself another glass of wine and offered the bottle around. Todd, his mother’s date for the evening, drawled on and on about the damn cattle prices and this and that. Vincent stopped listening an hour ago, too distracted by the blonde haired, blue-eyed beauty who stole the rest of his heart today.
Billy leaned forward eagerly on his elbows as Todd brought up the latest Rangers game. All he needed was them bringing up damn baseball when what he wanted to do was kick everyone out of his house. He shifted his chair slightly so he had a straight view of Natalie standing at the kitchen island while she cut up the pie she’d made for dessert. She laughed at something his mother said, actually cackling. She had to set the knife down, holding her sides as Doris howled loudly, her face bright red as tears of mirth slipped from her eyes.
“What are you two getting on about over there?” he asked loudly.
“You wouldn’t understand, dear,” Doris said, shooing him away with her hand. “This is women’s talk.”
“Yeah, that’s what worries me.”
His gaze raked over Natalie’s body, starting at her calves and trailing up to her ass. His hand curled on his lap as the other threatened to break the wine glass. She turned, and the slit on the side of her dress parted, giving him more of that delicious flesh he wanted to spend all night tasting.
The back of the dress covered her back, but her tattoo peeked through her hair hanging over her arms. He half expected his mother to point it out, or the earrings in her right ear, but Doris was either pointedly ignoring them or had grown soft over the years.
“Oh, now, dear,” Natalie said through her laughter, “we’re just getting to know one another. Nothing wrong with that, is there?” She sauntered to the table carrying two plates with pie slices.
As she set his down, she sidled even closer, rubbing her thigh against his leg and bending over. Her backside out of everyone else’s view, he snuck a quick squeeze, and she pressed herself into his hand. He swallowed the groan nearly falling out of his mouth. “Eat your damn pie.”
He wasn’t sure why he would expect anything less from her, but she sat down on his lap as if they had indeed been together forever. He wrapped an arm around her middle as he dug into his dessert, imagining digging into something much sweeter soon enough.
She’d stopped playing fair over an hour ago when her foot trailed up his leg during dinner and landed in his groin. His hand found its way to her lap, pushing her dress languidly higher and higher up her thigh, but if he went too much further, he worried she would jump and smack her knees on the table. Or he would simply throw her over his shoulder and excuse themselves from the table while he explored every inch of her body, including her back with its impressive artwork.
When she dropped the towel and showed him her most vulnerable spot, any lingering doubts Vincent had of Natalie trusting him, of being right for him, fell away until all that remained was that future he saw with her by his side.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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