Page 31 of Her Broken Biker
His thumb brushes my cheekbone. “I’m taking care of you first.”
The words hit low.
Everywhere.
He sees it.
His mouth curves, but the tenderness in his eyes keeps it from feeling like teasing.
“Can I kiss you?”
I nod too fast.
He leans in and kisses me like he has all the time in the world.
No rush. No taking. Just his mouth on mine, deep and slow, coaxing until I forget everything except his hand at my cheek and the warm, careful pressure of him.
When his other hand settles at my waist, over the towel, I make a sound into his mouth.
He stops.
I almost whimper at the loss.
“Still good?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Need words, Reina.”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Please.”
His eyes flare.
Then he kisses me again. This time his hand slides to the small of my back and draws me closer. The towel stays between us, but I feel the heat of him anyway. His chest is bare against my damp shoulder, careful of his bandage, and I am suddenly aware of every curve of my body pressed near all that hard muscle.
I stiffen without meaning to.
Ace feels it.
“What?”
I shake my head.
He tips my chin up. “Talk to me.”
“I’m...” My laugh comes out small and mortified. “I’m not exactly built like the women men like you usually want.”
His expression changes so fast I forget how to breathe.
“Men like me?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No,” he says. “I don’t.”
My gaze drops.
His thumb catches my chin before I can hide.
