Read Online Healing Hearts by Taryn Kincaid - Free Book Online Page B

breast.
    But touching wasn’t enough. Adam wanted to taste. He inclined his head, bending to kiss her breasts, replacing the gentle persuasion of his hand with the hungry need of his lips.
    “ You are delicious, sweetheart.”
    When she cried out, he recognized her stunned wonder. Her nipples peaked and hardened as he brushed first one, then the other, with his tongue.
    “Do you like that, Emma?”
    “Oh, yes.” She panted a little, as if finding it difficult to draw air into her lungs. Her eyes drifted closed, her pretty lips curved in a delighted smile.
    He sucked her nipple, lips closing over the stiffened bud, his tongue flicking back and forth greedily, as if she were a confection dissolving in the moist heat of his mouth.
    “Oh, yes, I like that,” she repeated. “I love that, Adam.” She feathered more frenzied kisses into his hair.
    Her hands moved from his shoulders, down his chest, and she tugged the linen from his trousers. Her hand dipped below the fabric, her delicate fingers exploring him, cool against his burning skin. Her touch sent him to a place well beyond lust. Beneath her probing hand, his muscles leaped.
    “Do you like that?” she asked, tearing a husky groan from him.
    He sat up, disposed of his shirt, and leaned back against the damask cushions of the settee with a wink. If she wished to explore, he wanted to let her.
    “Have at me, poppet.”
    Emma stared at the jagged pattern of scars etching his chest.
    Bloody damn!
    How stupid to think this woman could thaw him. How stupid to think she—or any woman—could ever accept him the way he was. His marred chest was nothing compared to his mangled leg, which she had not yet seen. His leg was nothing compared to his bruised psyche. Emma was the one woman he most wanted to shield from the wretched sight of his wounds, souvenirs of the same battle that had taken her brother.
    “What is this from?” she demanded. “Albuhera?”
    “Yes.” His voice emerged toneless and cold. He could not hide his bitter disappointment. Only a paid whore would shut her eyes to his disfigurement. He grabbed for his discarded shirt. Emma swept it out of his hands and onto the floor.
    “How?”
    “Emma, I don’t want—”
    “How?” she repeated.
    “Pieces of shot. Flying fragments of metal.”
    “It was very bad, wasn’t it?”
    His gaze slid away.
    “Oh, Adam. I am so sorry. I should have known, but—”
    “It’s all right,” he grated through clenched teeth. “I understand.”
    He reached for his shirt again, but Emma stilled his hand. Her eyes flashed at him, like angry bolts of lightning.
    “I don’t think you do.”
     
    Adam’s bleak words tore her apart. Deliberately, Emma placed her palm against his chest, running her fingertips over the thin, white scars.
    “Your wounds hurt me because they hurt you. They do not offend my sensibilities.”
    “I didn’t want to remind you. I—”
    “I wish I had not wasted so much time trying to hate you. I wish I could have eased your pain. I wish I could have held you in my arms long before now. Don’t you realize how much I want you, Adam? How much I’ve always wanted you?”
    She curled against him, petting him, increasing the pressure of her hand, her fingers meandering over his rib cage and then his pectoral muscles, making them leap. Her strokes became caresses. “I wish I could tease you back into a fever. Set you on fire like you’ve done to me.”
    He met her gaze. “Do you think you haven’t?”
    Emma shook her head. “Not yet, I think.” She bent her head and pressed her lips against his chest, flicking her tongue over his nipple the way he’d suckled hers, making it pebble.
    Adam groaned and dragged her down to a bed of sofa pillows, his hard body pinning her, her skirts jumbled between them. He rubbed his bare chest against hers. The friction of his flesh on hers felt sublime. He set her ablaze, melting her so thoroughly that her sex tingled and throbbed, feeling full and soft