*Blake*
Bloody damned hell. Why am I tormenting myself?
It isn’t her eyes, or her smile, or her spirit. It is her body. Lithe and supple with legs that stretches all the way up to her neck. I had wanted them wrapped tightly around my waist. I want them now.
I had lied. I had a damned good view. I have never known such sweet torture.
It had taken every ounce of strength I possess to sit there without revealing that I am aching with need, that my own body is rebelling. I wanted to snatch her out of that blasted water, water that was teasing her skin the way I want to, and carry her to the bed. If she hadn't just experienced a horrific nightmare, I damn well might have.
I rub the scar along the side of my face. I am just vain enough to wonder if she is repulsed by it, if she would be naus
