Worn Me Down (Playing With Fire, #3) by Tara Sivec

Author:Tara Sivec
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2014-01-19T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Gwen

I AWAKE IN BED ON MY STOMACH, the feel of a hand skimming down my back. Blinking my eyes open, I stare out the window across from me and see that the sun is just coming up. It takes me a minute to remember where I am, but the ache between my legs brings everything back.

Turning my head on the pillow, I see Austin sitting up against the headboard. I swallow thickly when I get a look at his bare chest. It was so dark in the room last night that I could barely see him. His chest is smooth and cut with muscles, and there’s a tattoo over his left pec.

I stare at the words for a few seconds before reading them softly out loud. “All gave some, but some gave all.”

Austin’s hand stills on my back and he watches me read the names listed underneath the quote. There are two men’s names – first and last and their Naval rank.

“You’re job is dangerous.” It’s a statement, not a question. When I realized Brady wasn’t going to volunteer information about his work with the SEALS, I tried asking him a few times but he always changes the subject. I often wondered if he didn’t want to talk because it was top-secret stuff I wasn’t supposed to know about, or if there were things that happened that he didn’t want to remember.

A cloud passes over Austin’s face and I realize the latter is probably the truth.

Just as quickly, the haunted look in his eyes is gone, replaced by a lopsided smile. “I’m a SEAL, darlin’. We live for danger.”

I roll my eyes at him and turn over in bed, pulling the sheet up with me as I shuffle up to the headboard next to him. “You can cut it with the flirting and panty-dropping smile. I’m immune to your charms, Austin Conrad.”

He chuckles, reaching over and sliding the sheet down until my breasts are exposed to him. He places the palm of his hand over one breast, his thumb moving back and forth over my nipple until it hardens.

“Immune, huh?” he whispers with a raise of his eyebrow.

I swat his hand away, pulling the sheet back up to cover my chest. In the process, I have to lean away from him and my right arm is no longer pushed up against his. Too late I realize that everything that happened between us last night was done under the cover of night. The sun is up now and the light is streaming in through the windows. I quickly try to cover up the scar on my arm with my left hand, but Austin reaches out and stops me.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, staring at the long red scar that goes from my elbow up to the mid point of my arm.

I look away from him, blinking back tears. This is why I should have gone with my gut instinct and not done this with him. I have scars marking so many different parts of my body, but this one is the worst.

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