Free Sacred Revelations by Harte Roxy Page B

the man.
    Where has my shyness gone?
    Where is the woman who hid under the covers from Garrett?
    I am not that same woman. I do not know where she went, but I am no longer she, and honestly, I am glad that she is gone.
    She would have been too afraid to join Lord Fyre for three months. She would have been too afraid of the feelings awakening in the very tissues and fibers of her being, feelings that make me want to reach out and stroke the imperfections of his body. I’ve never seen him naked. Last night that changed and I was too tired, too sore to pay much attention. I am still tired, languidly so, still not wanting to move, but it takes little effort to stroke the length of the scar on his left forearm, long and deep, slightly ragged, even though it appears to be an old scar. I wonder only for a second how he got it, then he moves, startling me, but he only rolls onto his side, in sleep. I sigh, taking note that his back is scarred just as much as his front. My gaze moves to the next imperfection, a row of round circles, angling across his back, not decorative, not on purpose, though their effect accentuates his power. It is a wonder he survived whatever caused the marks, and because I know instinctively that he is lucky to be alive, I trace each dented, perfect circle reverently.
    My touch must tickle because he rolls back over, hiding the scars that make me curious. I smile.
    Looking at his body, it is so hard not to. Even scarred, or maybe because of his scars, he is perfection and it makes me giddy. Perfection in my bed.
    My touch could wake him, but there is no fear of him waking even though I lie in his bed naked. He too is as naked as the day he was born. Even though, yesterday, I admitted to Dr. Psycho that I fear sex with him, I explained it wrong, or the explanation was twisted by the time it reached Lord Fyre, because it wasn’t that I feared the sex. I feared my inexperience. I feared not being able to please him. I feared the ultimate outcome—losing Garrett forever if I allowed my baser needs to win and I gave myself to Lord Fyre fully.
    I do not know how long we’ve slept; I know only that it is daylight again, and in my mind, time for him to
    awake. Awake before I lose my nerve and am no longer brave. Awake before I start thinking too hard about consequences, guilt, and judgment.
    I smooth my hand over the flatness of his stomach, dropping lower, finding him hard. Wondering what thought God had when he made all healthy, able men awaken with a hard-on. Awaken. Hard. Oh, shit.
    “How long have you been awake?” I ask, letting my fingers close around his length. His hand closes around my wrist, holding my hand still, though I don’t release his length, feeling him grow stiffer in my hand.
    “Long enough to see where you wanted your exploration to lead.”
    I bite my lip, not looking at him, taking in the very fine vision of his hard cock. He is not a deep rose color as the other two men I’ve had sex with have been. Lord Fyre’s penis is a darker tan, with distinctive purple undertones.
    “Is it okay that I touch you?” I ask.
    “A little late to be asking,” he replies. “Do you have any idea what you’ve started?”
    I giggle a little selfconsciously. “I hope so.”
    “Have you thought this through?” he asks, sounding to my ears very dark and foreboding, making my breath catch and hold. I look up into his eyes and he traps me there, holding my gaze with his, becoming my conscience. “Have you considered Garrett? Did the two of you discuss where three months with me could lead?”
    “I assumed…”
    “I assure you, he wouldn’t assume.”
    “So, we shouldn’t?”
    “I didn’t say that.”
    “I’m confused.”
    “Exactly. The forty-eight hours after an extreme scene, especially the kind of extreme scene I put you through, can be emotionally unbalancing. I don’t want you to do this if you are going to regret taking our relationship to a more intimate level, and I’ll be very