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“Are we doing this?” she asked, proud when her voice didn’t crack with nerves. She disappeared into the bathroom to give herself a moment to settle.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t been naked with anyone before. She could count the times she’d chosen to strip on one hand, though, and two of the three times were with the man she’d just run from.
What if he compared and was disappointed?
Which was a ridiculous thought. She was gorgeous, dammit. He’d even just said so.
Her arms crossed over her breasts, and her shoulders hunched on their own as the door clicked open behind her. She told herself to straighten. To turn and face him with a smile. Instead, a shiver rippled through her, chasing away the last of her body’s interest from before.
There was the sound of something rattling, and a towel was wrapped over her shoulders. Montrell hugged her from behind, but his hands were so careful to remain on the towel over her stomach as his chin rested on top of her head.
“I told you before. Only what you’re comfortable with.”
She sighed, back to feeling broken again. Her hands pulled the cushy towel around her. “I didn’t expect to feel nervous. I mean, you buried your face down there last night.”
She forced a laugh, and he released her as she turned. And almost swallowed her tongue.
Montrell had stripped off his clothes as well. The man was huge and masculine. She’d seen him naked in bed before, but there was something more dominating when he was standing up. Her eyes traced over the spread of his chest, the thickness of his arms and legs, and the way his cock jutted out from his body.
“How were you not poking me in the ass?” she asked, but the laugh froze behind her lips as a sudden memory assaulted her, reminding her she’d been raped by more men than her husband. Ice flooded her body. It had only been once. She’d learned how to escape trouble after that.
“Bea?” Montrell called softly, his nickname for her cutting through the noise in her head.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, wishing she could close her eyes but worried the fear would take over. She saw him wrapping another towel around his waist. “Sorry,” she repeated, the word clawing up her throat, needing to be said over and over.
And suddenly she was in Montrell’s arms. “Shh, I’ve got you.”
She expected her body to go into flight mode. Or maybe even fight. It’d gotten her into trouble in the past. She’d even hit this gentle husband of hers once before.
Instead her cheek cuddled against his hairy, broad chest, so different from the chiseled and smooth men she’d seen before. Her arms wrapped around him. And yes, his erection was still hard between them, but it was cushioned by two towels.
As her breathing slowed and that toxic need to apologize evaporated, Beatrice wished she could stay like this forever, warm in his arms.
“Did that Albanian rape your ass?” Montrell asked.
She flinched, and he released her. Montrell wasn’t one to hold her against her will. The flight instinct was back, but instead of giving in, she held on to him, burying her head against his chest and letting her hair curtain her face.
“Fuck,” he said, “you don’t have to answer that. Only what you want to share.”
Her heart slowed as she listened to the frantic beat of his. He was shaking.
“It wasn’t him. He didn’t believe me.” And somehow that had made it so much worse.
“Give me a name?” Montrell asked. And it was just that: a question. An offer, not a demand.
She shook her head, finally able to lift it. “It was one of the ones I ripped apart. You’ve already given me my vengeance.”
“Good,” Montrell murmured, his hand brushing through her hair. It was magic how his large fingers didn’t snag on any tangles. “It’ll never be enough, but it’s a start.” He cleared his throat. “Do you want to go back to your room? Shower alone?”
Beatrice shook her head. She clutched her own towel with one hand as the other reached for the knot at his waist.
Montrell sucked in a breath as his towel dropped to the floor. His erection had flagged a little. She’d done that. “Don’t force yourself. If—”
Her hand closed around him. She squeezed as she slid up the length of him. With the second pass, his cock wasn’t flagging anymore.
“You’re not getting out of this,” she said. “I’m so going to watch you come.” And she dropped her own towel.
His eyes devoured her. His gaze didn’t linger on all her scars. They skimmed her body, bottom to top, heat in his eyes.
