TRAGICALLY BROKEN: The Broken Series (Damaged, Book 1) (RE-IMAGINED & EXTENDED)

THIRTY-ONE

HANNAH

Gavin's chocolaty, lust-filled gaze fastens onto mine as his lips trace lower and lower, making everything in my body climb higher and higher, taking me to peaks I've never known before. Firsts that have the potential to keep my swelling heart from being constricted within my chest, to make it grow wings and take flight. Just when I think I'm cresting the top, he eases me down, only to take me farther into the clouds, soaring with ecstasy and panting for air.

I'm trying not to think about how many other women have gone to these heights, brought on by his skilled hands and tantalizing mouth. But when his callused hands instinctively know how to strum every one of my nerve endings, playing the most beautiful song like it's second nature, I possessively want to know he wrote each line for me.

I suppose it's my past that's forged my jealousy, that makes me feel so inadequate. In a time when I should've been excited to move forward, to express my feelings through touch, I had the intimacy stolen from me. I had to separate mind from body and reconcile that I couldn't be mentally present, that I'd be forced to go through the paces without ever really laying footing of my own. I don't have the prowess Gavin has. And knowing there were so many before me leaves me second-guessing my dexterity when all I want is to be the woman who takes him to new heights, soaring with ecstasy until he's panting for air.

I eagerly claw at his sides, pulling him up my body until his mouth is flush with mine, wanting to articulate just how much I need him. The rest of him hovers above, a breath away at any given point. Entirely too far. I lift my hips, meeting his, wordlessly begging for the contact.

Reading my body language like he's memorized it from cover to cover, he presses down, grinding against me, sexily groaning into my lips as he ravages me. I draw in a starving breath and relief floods me from head to toe. It feeds the hunger, nourishing it, turning my wants into needs and making the fine line dividing them no longer distinguishable.

I never thought I could love like this. Uninhibited. Unafraid. But it's so easy to let myself go with Gavin, to feel comfortable in my own skin. When I look into his expressive deep brown eyes, they wrap me in their warmth, telling me I'm beautiful, telling me I'm strong. They speak promises of loyalty and love. They reveal a fierce protectiveness that lets me know I'll always be safe in his arms, and I trust him wholly. When he finally draws back, I can't help the soft whimper that escapes my throat, mourning the loss.

My eyes flutter open.

Towering above me is the embodiment of strength. Every woman's temptation. An Adonis. A sculpted work of art, chiselled from stone. The sight never ceases to amaze me, and my fingers tenaciously trace every hard ridge, revelling in the fact that he's all mine.

Bracing on his forearms, the tendons are pulled tight when my hands grip the fronts of his biceps, digging in. I use them to ground me, tethering me when I feel like I'm floating—a natural side effect of his touch, his presence.

Knowing everything he's done for me, and probably will do for me, anchors me as well. Seeing the bruises and swelling makes this dream real, putting everything into perspective. This won't be some random hook-up or way to scratch an itch. This is a second chance for me to reset a first with real love and real commitment, to make the choice for myself. The significance is so much more.

The lightness we had earlier is gone. And the darkening pupils scanning my face let me know that I'm not the only one feeling the gravity of what this next step will mean for us, for me.

Gavin lowers his forehead against mine, eyes closed, gathering breath.

"What if I mess this up?" His voice is broken and weak, trembling, nothing like the strong and confident tone he normally has.