Page 75 of Chained By Fate (Dark Billionaires: Vegas #1)
“Thanks,” I whispered before planting a kiss on his lips—a thank you, an apology, a lifeline all rolled into one. Pulling back with a mischievous glint in my eye, I added, “You know what else is good therapy?”
Matt’s eyebrow rose in question, though his lips twitched with knowing amusement.
“Sex,” I declared with mock solemnity, though my hands trembled slightly as they reached for him. “And look at that—it’s technically tomorrow now.”
His laughter filled the room—a rich, vibrant sound that chased away the last tendrils of my nightmare.
“Well then,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that dangerous octave that made my toes curl, “I suppose I better keep that promise.” His expression sobered slightly.
“But no penetration. You’re still healing. ”
I flashed him a grin that probably didn’t quite hide the desperate need in my eyes.
“That’s fine by me. I mean, there are plenty of other fun activities on the menu.
I’ve missed touching you…” I let my gaze trail deliberately down his body, trying to mask my trembling with humor.
“…and licking you. Though I have to say, watching you play Mr. Hands-Off in that hospital was like putting a starving man in front of a buffet and telling him he can only smell the food.”
“Is that so?” Matt’s voice was as smooth as aged whiskey, but I could hear the desire threading through it, see the concern in his eyes as they traced the lingering fear in mine.
“Pure torture,” I confirmed, aiming for playful but landing somewhere between desperate and needy. “Do you know how many nurses swooned over you? And there I was, confined to that bed, unable to stake my claim. It was like watching someone else unwrap my favorite Christmas present.”
He shook his head, gold-brown hair falling across his forehead as he reached for the bedside lamp. Warm light spilled across the sheets as his eyes, dark with concern, studied my body. “Let me see how those bruises are healing.”
“Well then,” I challenged, my voice wavering slightly despite my attempt at bravado, “you’ll have to kiss every single one of them to make the pain go away. And not just the physical ones—all of them.” The last part slipped out before I could stop it, raw and honest.
“I promise,” he murmured, and the weight of truth in those two words made my heart ache with need.
With a flourish worthy of a Vegas showman, I kicked the silk sheets away and turned my attention to him.
Before he could protest, my fingers were already working their magic, stripping away his clothes with the deftness of a magician revealing his greatest trick.
Each piece that fell away revealed more of that powerful form—muscle and skin and that magnificent dragon tattoo winding across his body like some kind of sensual road map.
“Still as hunky as ever,” I observed with an appreciative nod, my fingertips tracing the dragon’s sinuous form. “And this masterpiece is still as awesome and fearsome as ever.”
I reached for my own clothes, but Matt’s hand caught mine. “Allow me,” he insisted, his voice a sensual command that sent shivers down my spine.
He undressed me slowly, his gaze sweeping over each bruise like an artist studying his canvas.
When I was finally bare before him, his eyes darkened with something fierce and tender all at once.
Then he pulled me into his arms, and when our lips met, I poured everything into that kiss—all my fear, my need, my desperation to feel something other than the echoes of screaming metal and cruel fists.
My fingers dug into his shoulders as if he were the only thing keeping me from drowning in my own memories.
The kiss deepened, became hungry and wild, my tongue seeking his with a desperation that had nothing to do with simple desire and everything to do with survival.
Matt was my anchor, my safe harbor in a storm of trauma, and I needed him like I needed air.
Each stroke of his tongue against mine pushed back the darkness a little more, each touch of his hands on my skin replaced a memory of pain with one of pleasure.
I wound my arms around his neck, drawing him closer until there was no space left between us, until I could feel his heartbeat echoing my own frantic rhythm.
This was what I needed—the feeling of Matt against me, inside me in every way but one.
His touch was my sanctuary from storms past and present, where pleasure outshone pain and even scars could fade into nothingness under the right caress.
For just a little while, the memory of the accident and the kidnapping faded away, replaced by the exquisite sensation of skin on skin, the sweet ache of desire, and the promise of release.
In Matt’s arms, I wasn’t the broken boy who lost his parents or the victim in Carlos’ warehouse—I was just Andy, whole and wanted and safe.
When Matt pulled back, ending the kiss, his eyes held a warmth that could thaw winter. “Let’s kiss all those bruises now,” he murmured, voice husky with promise.
“Oh, pulling out your PhD in Bruisology, Doctor Caine?” I managed to quip despite my breathlessness.
His lips curved into a smile that could’ve lit up the Vegas strip. “Honorary degree,” he shot back. “Now relax and let the doctor work his magic.”
With an exaggerated sigh that didn’t quite hide my trembling anticipation, I sprawled out on the bed like a starfish offering itself to the tide.
Matt’s lips found my nape first, and I shivered as his hands began their tender exploration of my body.
Each caress was a promise, each touch a balm to the ache of memories and flesh alike.
I watched through half-lidded eyes as he kissed every bruise—a cartography of pain transformed into pleasure under his devoted attention. The large one on my side received special care, his lips pressing softly against the purple-tinged skin.
“Hmm,” he hummed against my flesh, “this one looks like it hurts.”
“Past tense,” I reminded him with a shaky grin. “It hurt. Presently it’s feeling rather… attended to.”
He moved to the dark blotch across my chest, just above my heart—a souvenir from Carlos’ less than tender mercies. His lips lingered there, each kiss a silent vow to chase away the shadows of my past.
“And this one?” he asked between kisses.
“That’s where your buddy Carlos decided to give me an impromptu anatomy lesson.” My voice aimed for lightness but caught on the edge of memory. Matt’s eyes darkened dangerously before he reclaimed his composure.
“Well then,” he purred, moving to the constellation of smaller bruises decorating my shoulder, “let’s rewrite that chapter.”
In that moment, stretched out beneath him, every kiss was an absolution, every caress a benediction. I was adrift in bliss—a sea of sensation where each wave crested with love and crashed into ecstasy. Even heaven’s choir couldn’t compete with the symphony of pleasure Matt conducted across my skin.
When he returned his attention to my chest, taking a nipple between his lips, I nearly levitated off the bed. His tongue teased the sensitive bud until I was writhing beneath him, coherent thought scattered to the wind.
“Oh God,” I gasped as pleasure coiled tight in my belly. “You’re really excelling at this whole bedside manner thing.”
His laugh vibrated against my skin before he came up to capture my lips again. “I think I’ve thoroughly examined the front,” he murmured against my mouth. “Time to check the back.”
Before I could respond with some clever comment about his thoroughness—because who was I to argue with more kissing—he turned me over. A pillow found its way under my chest, and I hugged it like an anchor in this storm of sensation.
Eyes closed, I surrendered to the feeling of Matt’s hands skating over my back, his lips following in a trail of fire that somehow soothed rather than burned.
Each kiss felt like a starburst of warmth that faded into the most delicious calm imaginable.
Under his gentle worship, the world outside ceased to exist—there was only Matt, his touch, and the sanctuary we’d created in this moment of shared intimacy.
I felt Matt’s hands on my hips, flipping me over with ease. His touch ignited a trail of heat that seemed to sink beneath my skin, and I was acutely aware of the evidence pressing insistently against my belly.
“Your back’s been given the all clear,” he announced with mock formality, “but I believe there’s one area in need of some… intensive care.” His gaze dropped pointedly to the part of me that was undeniably, achingly attentive.
My cheeks flushed with heat, but I managed to maintain my composure. “Well, Doctor,” I quipped despite my breathlessness, “before you proceed with your… in-depth examination, I insist on patient rights to kiss my incredibly hot physician.”
His lips curved into a smile that could’ve lit up the Vegas strip, and he leaned down.
Our lips met with the intensity of two stars colliding, and I lost myself in the sensation.
Each kiss with Matt had a way of making my world snap into sharp focus, like the fuzziness of an old television set suddenly clearing to show a picture of stunning clarity.
His lips moved against mine with a hunger that matched my own, our tongues dancing in a rhythm of desire and need.
My arms wound around his neck, fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair, drawing him closer, as if we could merge into one.
Every time we kissed, it was like finding a missing piece of myself.
The fears and memories that haunted my waking hours dissolved into nothingness.
With Matt, I was more than just the sum of my past—I was wanted, I was cherished, I was whole.
Each kiss was a vow, a silent promise that, together, we could weather any storm.