"I've got scars," he told her, "marks on my skin." He smiled at her narrowed gaze. "You don't believe me?"
"Oh," she lifted her hands to his chest. "I... I see them ," she bit into her lip, "it's just different."
He smiled at her and decided that talking wasn't getting him anywhere.
She narrowed her eyes at him.
"What are you smiling about?"
He didn't answer her, not with words. McCrae lifted the hem of her shirt and when she tried to pull it free of his hands.
He playfully batted her hands away and got a huff and a glare from her.
"Do you really want me to stop?" He held himself still. "If you want me to, I will."
It would kill him.
That might sound silly, but he felt it. Just being near Noelle and having her lean into him had created a craving that he had never experienced before.
A need to protect and care for her in a way that he felt he was protecting his future...
His family.
"No."
Her answer confused him. He'd forgotten what he'd asked her.
"I don't want you to stop."
There.
He smiled.
"Okay, baby." He let go of the hem of her shirt and slid his hands underneath. "We'll do this in stages. It'll let me get under your skin."
Her shirt moved with his hands and he exposed the tender skin of her belly.
Those stretch marks that she was uncomfortable with?
He traced a few with his fingertips, the tip of his nose, and his tongue.
She moved under him, one hand flung out to grasp the sheets, her other hand grasping at his hair.
Moving his hands up, the hem of the shirt rode his wrists and then his forearms.
He knew the moment she felt his fingertip touch her nipples.
Her eyes widened, flaring open.
Her lips parted and she sucked in a hard breath.
Her back arched, pushing her nipples against his eager fingers.
He rolled her nipples and her hips raised pushing against his chest.
So beautiful.
So... responsive.