Free Quiver (Revenge Book 1) by Trevion Burns Page B

soft and supple at the same time. The unmoving boulders of his shoulders; the rigid curve of his biceps, which tightened under her fingertips; his forearms; his wrists, which she couldn’t even wrap her fingers all the way around.
    Her breathing picked up as she stroked his arms, over and over, until she’d gotten her fill. Her caresses moved to the deep V at the bottom of his stomach and she smiled at his sharp intake of breath, letting her fingers trickle back up over his eight-pack, drinking in his solid beauty, so enamored with every inch of him that she couldn’t get her hands all over him fast enough.
    She took her time appreciating the contrast they made. The way his tanned skin seemed to radiate through her splayed brown fingers like a rising sun as she traveled his heaving pecs, the soft dusting of black hair on his chest, the small valley of freckles lining the edges of his shoulders, and the cross that hung from his neck. She let her fingers linger on the cool metal of that necklace, feeling his pounding heart clearly, as if it lived outside his chest and not in it. Never in her life had she felt a heart pound so hard.
    “You scare me to death.” His admission came deeper, raspier that time.
    She lifted her eyes to his, took his biceps in a tight grip and pulled, turning him toward the bed.
    He let her move him. Even though he was big enough, strong enough, to take control easily, he let her.
    “Take off your clothes,” she whispered.
    He reached out a gentle hand and clutched her waist, lingering on the deep curve that turned into her hip. He traced that delicate valley, his eyes following his greedy hands. Moving back up her dress, the backs of his fingers caressing the soft fabric, he held his breath when he reached the swell of her breasts. He held one and then the other before lifting his other hand and taking them both at once, testing their weight. His breathing grew hoarse. It came faster. Harder.
    “Take off your clothes,” she said again.
    He moved his touch over her collarbones, up her neck, cupping her jaw as his eyes grew soft. “I want to kiss you.”
    She looked at him from under her eyelashes, fighting a smile. “Take. Off. Your. Clothes.”
    He brushed her cheeks with his thumbs, leaning just close enough to brush their noses again. He angled his nose so he could get closer without kissing her, his eyes fluttering shut. “I thanked the high heavens when that idiot at my party said what he said at the bar. Otherwise I would’ve never had the nerve to start a conversation with you.”
    “Are your clothes still on?”
    He chortled, the kind of laugh that escaped its host unexpectedly. Without another word he took a step back, letting his hands fall from her face. The back of his legs hit her bed and every muscle in his body seemed to flex in surprise, as if he’d forgotten it was there.  He toed off each of his shoes.
    Veda watched his fingers move to his undone pants. They trembled. She’d never seen a man shake so much as he pushed his pants down his legs, revealing his thighs and calves, all shapely with his strength. People always made fun of men who went to the gym and only worked on their arms, ignoring their legs. It was clear Gage wasn’t one of those men.
    He stepped out of his pants and dipped his fingers, shaking even more now, into the waistband of his underwear. His gaze never left hers as he bent forward and pushed them down his legs as well. He stayed that way, bent at the waist, his hooded eyes devouring hers, as he pulled his pants and underwear off his legs, one after the other.
    Veda paid no mind to the passion in his eyes, taken prisoner by the hardness bobbing between his legs. Long, thick, and at full attention, it seemed to reach out into the small place between them, clawing for her. Her fingers itched to touch it, taste it, use it to expel whatever beast was claiming her and making her own hands shake.
    He stood tall, fully naked before her, every muscle in