Page 47 of Chilled
Yes, she was. Would he believe she was still dreaming if she pressed a kiss to his nipple? How would he react if she told him she was awake and wanted to make love to him? Would he insist on lights? Would he recoil in horror when he saw the scars covering her back?
Could she handle his rejection?
Tears leaked from the corner of her eyes. “Hold me?” she asked tentatively. Maybe that was all she needed, the reassurance of another living soul in the same room to dispel the terror of her lingering nightmare.
“I don’t know if I can,” Nick whispered against her hair.
Brenna held her breath and then let it out slowly. He couldn’t hold her. He didn’t find her in the least attractive, and all his tender care was nothing more than what he’d give to a child in distress. How pathetic was she to want more? “It’s okay. You don’t have to.”
Instead of letting go, his arms tensed. “I’m afraid if I hold you much longer, I’ll forget myself.”
She managed to force air past her constricted vocal cords. “How?”
“Right this minute, I want to kiss you.”
Her heart stopped, and she stared up into his face.
Nick continued, “And I’m afraid I won’t stop with a kiss.”
Joy warred with fear, pressing against her lungs, making her words even more difficult. “Who said I’d stop you?”
“You’re suffering the effects of a nightmare. I’d be taking advantage of the situation.”
Brenna reached out and slid her fingers around his neck, pulling his face down to hers. “My eyes are wide open.” Then she kissed him. She pressed her breasts against his chest in an attempt to get closer, immediately regretting the shirt that kept her from the skin-to-skin contact she craved.
Nick pulled back, his lips hovering over hers. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said with a sigh, her fingers digging into his shoulders, loving the feel of the taut muscles beneath bronzed skin.
Nick’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her against him, and he took her mouth in a savage kiss, no holds barred. His tongue pushed past her teeth to war with hers, tangling, teasing and tasting of mint toothpaste and Nick.
The dream pushed to the farthest corner of Brenna’s mind as her head spun in the rapid bombardment of sensations.
His hands slid up her back and inside her shirt, kneading the flesh and scar tissue.
Brenna stiffened and pulled her mouth from his. “No.”
Eyes glazed, Nick sat back on the bed, his hands resting on her back. “What? Am I going to fast?”
“No, you’re not.” She reached for his hands and moved them around the front where scars weren’t an issue and more pleasure would be gained. “I’m just...reticent about certain things.”
He stared down at where she’d moved his hands, and his lips pressed together. Gazing into her eyes, he trailed his hands around to where they’d been. “I’m not bothered by your scars, Brenna. They are a part of you and what makes you beautiful.”
Tears welled in Brenna’s eyes, and she blinked to clear them away before he saw. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t have to live every day of your life knowing you’re damaged goods.” She pushed at his hands, but his grip tightened. “You haven’t even seen them.”
In a soft, persistent voice, Nick said, “Then show me.”
“No,” Brenna said, her voice strangling in tears. All her thoughts of making love to Nick were crushed beneath the overpowering desire to hide. Hide from Nick, from the kids who’d teased her in school, from Victor who’d told her she wasn’t pretty and from her mother who wanted her to “settle” for someone. “I can’t,” she said, lowering her head.
With one hand, he cupped her face and tilted her head up until she was forced to look into his eyes. “Then I’ll help you.”
His gaze locked with hers as his hands pulled the hem of her tank top up and over her head. He leaned forward and kissed one breast, twisting his tongue around the nipple until it hardened into a beaded peak.
Brenna moaned and locked her hands behind his head, holding his mouth to her while he lavished attention to first one then the other aching breast. She could handle this as long as he didn’t pay attention to her back and the wretched scars there.
Nick laid Brenna against the pillows, branding a trail of kisses from her breasts down her ribcage, delving into her bellybutton. His hands worked ahead of his lips, moving lower to where her pajama bottoms rode her hips.
With her breath lodged in her throat, Brenna waited for him to push aside the fabric and continue on his downward path. She wasn’t disappointed. His fingers eased the elastic down over her hips, exposing inch by sweltering inch of her to his gaze, his tongue and the coarse tips of his long fingers. When the elastic reached the top of her curly mound, she moaned, and her hands reached down between them to help the situation along. Her body burned for him, wanted him inside her, filling her completely.
