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‘Oh, sweetheart…’ His breath came out on a jagged sigh. ‘Do you really think I would be so insensitive?’
She gave a half-shrug. ‘My scars have turned off men before.’ Only one, but it had been enough to stop her dating since.
His frown deepened. ‘Then you’ve been dating the wrong men. You’re a beautiful young woman who’s survived a terrible car crash. No one should judge or shame you for bearing the scars of a tragedy you were caught up in. If they do, then it says more about them than it does you.’
Layla knew what he said was intellectually sound but she had lived experience of being judged and shamed by people who couldn’t stomach her scars. There were times when she couldn’t stomach them herself. She had spent years of her life avoiding intimacy, making excuses not to get into the dating scene—she was always too busy with work, too tired to indulge in late nights at clubs or parties.
But the real reason was what her scars represented. Not just the culmination of years of abuse and neglect now worn on her body like an indelible brand. Those scars represented her guilty secret—the secret relief that she had lost her parents and not her leg.
How could she ever tell anyone?
‘It’s just hard…you know?’ Layla blinked away the sting of tears. ‘Everywhere I look I see perfect bodies, especially in a place like Hawaii. Before yesterday, I hadn’t been in a swimsuit since I was at the rehab clinic. I used to love swimming, but even at the clinic therapy pool, other patients stared at me like I was some sort of freak show.’
Logan brushed some strands of hair off her face, his gaze grave and yet tender. ‘Your scars are a part of you, but they aren’t you. You are so much more than that. So much more.’
Layla touched his mouth with her fingers. ‘Kiss me. Make love to me. Please?’
His mouth tilted in a slow sexy smile. ‘With pleasure.’
LOGAN’S MOUTH CAME back to hers in a kiss that melted away Layla’s lingering doubts and fears. It was almost worth the long years of celibacy to have Logan be the first one to introduce her to the delights of the flesh. He moved from her mouth back to her breasts, caressing each one until her back was arching off the bed. He drew her pyjama trousers down, leaving a trail of kisses on each part of her exposed flesh. When he came to the jagged scars that were carved like runnels in her flesh, he was especially tender and it made tears spout in her eyes and her throat tighten with emotion.
He traced the feminine seam of her body with a lazy finger, his eyes glittering darkly with lust. ‘Tell me if I do anything you don’t like or don’t feel comfortable doing.’
‘I love what you’re doing.’ Layla could barely speak for the sensations rippling through her.
He kissed his way down her body from her breasts to the swell of her mound. She sucked in a breath, her legs turning to water as his lips gently parted her tender folds. Layla was in two minds—one to stop him out of her shyness at such an intimate caress and the other to just lie back and enjoy every pulse-racing moment. She chose the latter. His lips and tongue sending her on a sensual roller-coaster that catapulted her into a vortex of dizzying sensations. Sensations that coursed through her body in waves and pulses and delicious flickers, finally leaving her in a state of utter bliss and relaxation.
Never had she felt so in tune with herself, so free of the burdensome worry of how her broken body looked. Her body felt amazing, beautiful and sexy and capable of giving and receiving pleasure.
How could she not be thrilled it was Logan who had transformed her, awakened her to her sensual potential?
‘Oh, wow…’ Layla said on a breathless sigh.
Logan planted a soft kiss on her lips and then lifted off to mesh his gaze with hers. ‘It will only get better once we get used to each other.’ He kissed his way from her neck to her breasts, stroking her with his tongue, grazing her with the gentle tug of his teeth, sending her senses into another rapturous tailspin.
Layla explored him with her hands, shyly at first but becoming more comfortable with the hard contours of his body that were so exotically, erotically different from her own. His arousal was thickened with the same need she could feel throbbing in her own body.
His breathing became more hectic under her touch, his eyes dark and lustrous with desire. He positioned himself between her legs, taking his own weight on his elbows, his body poised to possess her. ‘It’s not too late for second thoughts. We can stop if you don’t want to go any—’
Layla pushed her finger against his lips to stop him speaking. To stop him talking himself out of making love to her. ‘I don’t want to stop. I want you to make love to me. You want to, don’t you?’
His mouth came up in a rueful half-smile. ‘You surely don’t doubt it? Can’t you feel what you do to me?’
She could and she loved feeling it. Loved feeling desirable and feminine and sensually powerful for the first time in her life. ‘Don’t leave me hanging like this,’ she whispered against his mouth. ‘I need you.’
Logan made a sound deep in his throat and captured her mouth with his in a kiss that spoke of the feral rumble of passion throbbing in his blood. The same passionate throb she could feel in her lower body, the ache and drag of tender muscles crying out for intimate friction. His body nudged her entrance, gently parting her, and she opened herself to him, her shyness falling away, replaced by her escalating need to feel him inside her. His first thrust was shallow, restrained, careful, as if he was reluctant to allow his desire too much freedom.
Layla arched her spine, welcoming him deeper into her body by placing her hands on his toned buttocks. He thrust into her with a guttural groan, his pelvis moving in primal motion with hers. She felt a tiny sting of pain, a slight tug of resistance when he went deeper and she suppressed a gasp, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
He suddenly stilled his movements. ‘Did I hurt you?’ His voice contained a deep chord of concern, his gaze searching hers.
‘Of course not.’ Layla smiled and stroked the side of his face with her hand. ‘I’m just getting used to the feel of you.’ She held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t see through her little white lie. She didn’t want him to stop making love to her, not while her body was aching and throbbing for more stimulation.
His eyes moved between each of hers, dipping every now and again to her mouth, his breathing still uneven, his body still encased in hers. ‘I’ll take it a little more slowly. But tell me if you’re not comfortable at any time.’
‘I’m perfectly comfortable.’ Layla moved beneath him, rocking her body to encourage him to keep moving. Her body was used to him now, her intimate muscles wrapping around him, welcoming him, delighting in his strength and potency.
He slowly began to thrust, his movements measured and controlled. Layla’s excitement grew as his body within hers triggered flickers of heat through her female flesh. The erotic motion of their bodies working together in perfect harmony was like a complicated but beautiful dance she hadn’t realised she had known the steps to until now. The choreography of their movements was instinctive, intuitive, intensely arousing. Her senses soared, her desire leapt, her blood hummed and thrummed like the rhythmic backbeat of a musical score.
His mouth came back to hers in a long, drugging kiss that ramped up her passion for him like fuel flung on a naked flame. Their tongues met, tangled, mated, moved with the same perfect symmetry as their bodies. His hands caressed the swell of her breast, the curve of her waist, her thigh and then he found the slippery secret heart of her. The soft stroking of his fingers on her most intimate flesh made her gasp and writhe and shudder as the orgasm swept over her in pulsating waves. Waves that fanned out from her core to the far reaches of her body, making every cell of her body vibrate