He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not

one hand and gently laid her down on the cool, soft sheets.
    He stood back, shucked off his shoes, and yanked off his socks. Next came his jacket and tie. Cuff links flew, pinging across the wooden floor somewhere behind him when he ripped his shirt off over his head.
    In a matter of seconds he was completely naked. Amanda gasped at her first glimpse of him in all his glory. He was extremely . . . impressive.
    He crawled into the bed and lay on his back. He wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her so that she straddled his stomach.
    She reached down and ran her thumb across his lower lip, shivering when he lightly bit down on her finger. “You’re so . . . well-proportioned. I’m not sure you’ll fit,” she teased.
    He laughed. “You do know how to flatter a man.” He reached up and slid his hands into her hair, pulling her forward until she lay with her breasts pressed against the soft wiry hair of his chest. His lips moved across hers in a slow, sensual slide, and his tongue swept inside, branding her with its heat.
    Without breaking their kiss, he rolled with her, pinning her back against the mattress. His forearms supported his weight and his knees anchored her on both sides of her thighs. When he pulled back, she opened her eyes and looked into his. She wondered at the serious look that drew his brows down into a frown.
    “Is something wrong?” She wasn’t innocent but she might as well be. Her experiences were limited and happened so many years ago she could barely remember them.
    “I want this to be perfect for you, Mandy. Promise me if I do anything that makes you afraid or uncomfortable, you’ll tell me. I’ll stop.” The corner of his mouth lifted into a sardonic grin. “Even if it kills me, I’ll stop.”
    She flushed self-consciously. He must be worried she would freak out again. It worried her, too, but she wanted him so much. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life wondering what it might have been like to be with him if she backed out now. “I will. I promise.”
    His brow smoothed out, and he leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. Then he slid further down her body so he was face-to-face with the scars that crisscrossed her abdomen.
    She reached for the sheet and started to pull it over her, but he stopped her with a gentle, firm hand around her wrist. “Don’t. Let me look.”
    She didn’t understand why he wanted to look at her scars, but she trusted him. She released her grip on the sheet, and he flipped it out of the way. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss against one of the scars on the underside of her breast. The action was so tender, so sweet, that tears filled her eyes. He moved to the next scar and gave it the same, careful attention. Then he moved to the next, and the next, kissing and caressing each hurt, as if he could take away all the pain she’d ever suffered, telling her with his actions—far more than words ever could—that the scars didn’t matter. Not to him.
    By the time he’d finished, the tears were flowing hotly down her cheeks. He looked up at her and his face filled with dismay. He slid up her body, settling over her as he gently wiped her tears. “Don’t cry, Mandy. Please don’t cry,” he whispered, his eyes searching hers.
    “You make me feel beautiful.” She reached her arms up behind his neck.
    He pressed a whisper-soft kiss against her lips. “You are beautiful. Nothing and no one can change that.” He kissed her again, then gently turned her over so he could press a kiss to one of the scars on her back. He worshipped every nick, every cut, and she started to believe, really believe, that he might actually mean what he’d said. He thought she was beautiful. He wasn’t just lying to try to make her feel better.
    A peace unlike anything she’d ever felt settled over her—and joy, such tremendous joy—that she nearly burst with the feeling of it. She twisted in his arms, ignoring the surprised look on his face when she plastered her body against him and kissed him with abandon, worshiping his mouth the way he’d worshiped her body. Telling him with her actions what she couldn’t yet put into words, feelings she wasn’t even ready to admit to herself. She wanted him, so much it hurt, and he wanted her. For now . . . that was enough.
    Gone was the gentle lover. Suddenly Logan was wild, his skin burning hers with his heat as he kissed a fiery path down the side of her neck. His hands were everywhere,