Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [85]
Instead of laughing off his stern warning, air left my lungs in a frightened stutter and I sobbed harder. His chest was slippery, as wet as my face. My fingernails left crescent-shaped marks on his pectorals as I clutched him.
“Julie.”
“I-I’m—”
“Ssh.”
“I-I c-can’t—”
“Stop.”
Tears blurred my vision. “I can’t—”
302
“Try.”
“Oh, God, I’m suffocating.”
“Ssh, baby, just breathe.”
“I can’t stop thinking”—I swallowed hard and my voice came out a hoarse whisper—“that you could’ve died.”
An oppressive pause settled between us.
“But I didn’t.”
His gruff denial didn’t shame my tears into submission. In fact, it had the opposite effect. The harder I fought for control, the more elusive it became. My whole body shook.
“Julie.”
Breathe. In. Out.
“Calm down.”
A hiccupping cry escaped. “I can’t be calm because you can’t promise me you won’t die. You can’t promise this isn’t the last time someone will try to kill you.”
Tony’s soothing circular caresses in the center of my spine stopped.
I gulped air. My salty tears and inability to suck enough oxygen into my lungs reinforced the sensation I was drowning.
“Blondie.”
I burrowed into the spot where his arm and torso connected, searching for his warmth, using his flesh as a sound barrier, finding his scent as a balm to prove he was real.
303
“Look at me.”
No.
He tugged my hair, gently at first. When I wouldn’t budge, he pulled harder, trying to force my head back.
“I said: Look. At. Me.”
Slowly, I raised my chin and met his eyes.
Martinez placed his palm on my cheek, using his thumb to wick away the moisture from my face. He curled his hand around the back of my neck to urge me closer. “No more. Hit me. Jesus. It’d hurt less than wearing your tears.”
“I can’t—”
Then his mouth was on mine. Not the gentle
communing of souls kiss I expected. But hunger. The need he showed only to me. He hauled my torso higher, alongside his.
The sensations of his taste, his scent, his warmth flowed over me as I let him lead us where we both wanted to go, understanding the importance of him proving to me he could still take us there.
In the silence of the room, his rough-skinned hands made a loud scratching sound on the delicate silk as he slid it down my body on the outside of the robe. His lips moved to my ear. “Take it off.”
“Tony, you’re—”
“Fine.” He tugged on the sash until the knot gave way.
“But I’ll hurt you.”
304
“Only if you say no.” Hot, sweet, wet, hungry kisses tracked my throat, making me tremble and arch against him. “God. Please don’t say no. I need this.”
Not, I need you.
I went rigid, even when certain parts of my body had already gone pliant and damp with anticipation.
“You need this.”
The damn tears started again. He knew me so well. Martinez kissed me as he peeled the robe away, baring me completely to his expert touch. He flattened his palm on my left hip and leisurely followed the bend in my waist up to my rib cage. His fingertips idly caressed the underswell of my breast. Rubbing his lips over mine in a seductive, wet glide, he murmured,
“I’m not dead, blondie.”
“But—”
“But if you don’t stop crying and put your hands on me right now, I might actually kill you.”
I managed a laugh and he kissed the corners of my mouth. Only he had the ability to change my mood from fear to fire so quickly.
After drugging me with more soul-stealing kisses, he pressed his forehead to mine. “Not so easy being on the other side of the sickbed, is it?”
“No.” I slid my mouth over his freshly shaven cheek, letting my hot breath flow into his ear, eliciting his deep shiver. Then I nipped his lobe with my teeth.
“I prefer to be on top anyway.”
“How well I know that.”
305
I teased him with little whips of my tongue on the muscles straining in his throat while I eased the lightweight fabric sheet from his injured thigh. My lips mimicked the path my fingers created, trailing from his neck down his torso, leaving a sweet, breathy kiss on the wound on his rib cage, gradually making my way across the muscles quivering