I put my hands on his wrists, took his hands in mine, sliding them away from my face. “No,” I said. “Aston is mine. I’ve thought about how I would kill him since I was thirteen. That’s something you won’t take from me. No one will.”
Hammer’s face was expressionless for a moment, and then he smiled. “Good.”
He sat there, unmoving, holding me for a long time, his arm wrapped around me, my head on his shoulder. I was almost surprised by the gesture, by the fact that he seemed to be content enough to just sit there, holding me. He wasn't like the other men, with their rough demands, their need to constantly debase me.
I could hear his breathing, slow and rhythmic, comforting, and I felt his lips on the top of my head, his hand stroking my hair. It wasn't sexual, yet I felt warmth running through my body in response to his touch.
Without thinking, I pulled away and faced him. I kissed him, hard on the lips. His lips parted, and I heard a rumble in his throat that sounded more like a growl than anything else as he pressed his lips to mine, so hard that I thought they would bruise. My body was warm, desire radiating from my core to my fingertips. It washed over me like a wave as Hammer pulled at my dress, struggled with it, unable to remove it from his position on the bed, then grunted and stood up, pulling me to the edge of the bed with him. Yanking it over my head, he tossed it on the floor, then stopped and stood there, looking at me. I felt exposed under his stare, but not in the way I’d felt exposed before, under the gaze of the men who took me.
With Hammer looking at me, I was more vulnerable somehow, more naked. My cheeks felt hot as he focused his attention on me.
"Shit," he said. "You are gorgeous."
Hammer kissed me, slowly this time, and I felt my heart race at his touch, dampness growing between my legs. His hand was on the back of my head, fingers laced through my hair, but his touch was gentle as he held me against him. I felt his tongue graze mine, and when he pulled my bottom lip between his teeth, arousal rushed through me like nothing I'd felt before.
"This is a first for me," I whispered. I pulled away so I could look at him, my heart pounding in my chest. It was terrifying, the prospect of having sex with someone just because I wanted to. It was completely unknown territory. I feared I was somehow fucked up, that sex had somehow become all twisted around in my head, muddled up with pain and terror and everything else that came with what I had been through.
Hammer nodded, seeming to understand what I meant. "I'll take it slow," he said.
I wasn't sure whether I wanted him to be gentle, or whether I wanted him to destroy me with his touch. I wasn't sure which I was more afraid of.
I reached up to pull off his shirt, running my hands over his smooth chest, his muscles rippling under my fingertips. He was hard, all muscle, not an ounce of fat on him, a product of hours pumping iron...and fighting, I supposed. I traced the outline of his muscles, wanting to linger, to memorize the way he looked right now in this moment.
"You need to stop doing that, or there's not going to be any taking it easy," Hammer said, his mouth close to my ear. He took the fleshy part of my ear between his teeth, and I heard a moan escape my lips.
When I spoke, my voice was breathy, somehow not like me. "I don't know if I want you to take it easy."
"Shit, I'm going to take it so easy you're going to be aching for me," he said, his voice gruff. The tip of his tongue was on a sensitive place near my earlobe, and I tilted my head to the side, letting his mouth roam down the side of my neck, tracing kisses along the length of my collarbone to the tops of my breasts. My head lolled back and I closed my eyes, reveling in his touch, his hand on my breast, the warmth radiating through the lacy fabric of my bra. My nipples hardened instantly under his palm, and I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling his head closer, wanting his mouth on my breasts, needing his mouth all over me.
I wanted him to envelop me.
I felt heady, drunk with desire and the realization that I craved him. All of him. I had never wanted anyone before. Not ever.
I didn't know why this man was so different from the rest, but he was. And he was making me believe, for the first time, that there could be something more for me.
If I weren’t so consumed with my need for him, that thought would strike fear into my core.
He reached behind my back, slipping off my bra, kissing my shoulder where he slid the strap over my skin. He took my breast in his mouth, circling his tongue around my nipple, his touch exquisite torture, one I only wanted to keep going forever. When he drew his head away from me, I inhaled sharply. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
He smiled. “Nothing at all,” he said. “I just want out of these goddamned clothes so I can feel your skin against mine.”
I shivered as he yanked my panties over my hips so sharply I thought he would tear them from my body. He slid down to his knees between my legs, pulling them to my ankles, and I stepped out of them, gingerly, still on my heels. His hands were on my thighs, and arousal rushed through my body, heat between my legs.
He looked up at me from where he knelt between my legs, his expression one of unbridled lust. "God, you're fucking beautiful," he said. "Fuck my clothes - I need to taste you."