Free In His Shadow (Tangled Ivy Book 1) by Tiffany Snow Page B

bed. He made short work of pulling the covers off me. “Your body deserves to be admired.”
    The endearment warmed me and I didn’t know what to say. No one had ever said something like that to me before, complimented me on something so personal. Devon was so comfortable in his skin, as though not wearing clothes was as easy as being fully dressed.
    He reached for my leg, raising it and resting it across his lap, spreading me wide open. I gasped sharply, heat flooding my cheeks. Devon just chuckled.
    “A bit late for modesty,” he said. That’s when I saw the washcloth he held. He pressed it between my legs, gently cleaning me. “I thought you might be sore. This should help.”
    The cloth was very hot and it did feel good against the parts of my body he’d just put to more use than they’d seen in ages. I was in awe of what had just happened. I’d actually had sex. And not just the crappy, embarrassing kind of sex I’d had before, but the mind-blowing, earth-moving kind with the most amazing specimen of a man I’d ever seen.
    “So do you want to tell me?” he asked, his voice casual, intent on his task.
    “Tell you what?”
    “Tell me who abused you.”
    I stared at him, the blood draining from my face. He knew. Of course he did. He’d known the other night when he’d decided to leave. Which reminded me—
    “I thought I was too broken for you?” I asked, more than a hint of bitterness in my voice. “That’s what you said the other night, right before you walked out. Why did you come back?”
    Devon set aside the washcloth. When he turned back, he moved to lie beside me. I scrambled to put some space between us, but his arm hooked around my waist, drawing me back to him. He quickly had me pinned flat on my back, his leg between my thighs and his torso lying half on top of mine.
    “I decided I didn’t give a damn,” he said, studying my face. His gaze followed the path of his fingers as he traced my brow, down the line of my nose to my lips, brushing across my cheek to my jaw. “I wanted you, and I thought you wanted me to.” He paused. “Was I wrong?”
    The selfishness of his words was in stark contrast to the tender way he was touching me, the firm but gentle hold his body had on mine. I swallowed.
    “No. But what if I’d been afraid?” I asked.
    His eyes met mine. “But you weren’t, were you,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
    “No,” I finally said, the word barely more than a whisper. “And I don’t know why.”
    “It’s because I saved your life today,” Devon said, “and now you trust me. In here.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to the valley between my breasts. “Though perhaps not up here.” His finger tapped lightly at my temple.
    “I barely know you,” I said.
    He smiled thinly. “You know me as well as anyone does.”
    “But I—”
    “Shh,” he hushed me, pressing his fingertips to my lips. “Go to sleep. I need rest, and so do you.”
    “You’re staying?” I asked, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.
    “You’d rather I go?” he asked, his brows rising.
    “N-no, of course not,” I stammered. “I just thought you . . . would. That’s all.”
    “I like the feel of a woman next to me,” Devon said matter-of-factly, settling himself beside me.
    Reaching down, he tugged the covers up over us, then turned us on our sides. My back was pressed against his chest, my bottom cradled by his hips. His arm rested in the curve of my waist and his hand settled over my breast, his thumb brushing idly over the nipple.
    It seemed I didn’t really have a choice in the matter, not that I was protesting. Devon was so large, I felt small next to him. Protected. It was natural for him to take control, easy for me to let him. He was almost absently caressing my body, as one would a pet.
    Just before I drifted to sleep it struck me that he’d said he liked the feel of “a woman.” Did that mean any woman would do? And did I care if that answer was yes?

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