The Outlaw

21

TWENTY ONE

I moved quietly down the hallway to Travis' bedroom, my footsteps treading lightly. I stopped in the doorway to admire him, sprawled as he was. He lay on his back, the sheets tangled around his legs—one arm tossed over his head, the other resting across his torso. He wore only boxer briefs, which gave me the opportunity to appreciate every inch of his skin, and every contour of his leanly ripped body.

Stripping down to my underwear, I slid into the bed next to him. With a gentle hand, I stroked over his face and then cupped his jaw. In such close proximity, as he rested easily in prose, he appeared so innately striking he almost seemed surreal. 

Travis Ortiz had been built to drive a woman mindless. And yet he was mine.

As if he heard that silent demand, his eyes slowly opened. He raked me from head to toe before his sensual mouth etched into a lazy smile.

"Maddie." A shiver moved through me at the sound of his voice, deeper and raspier than usual. "You're a welcome surprise."

There was something pleasurable about being able to see him in his partially awake state—with his defences down and unguarded. It was an intimate privilege reserved only for me and I loved it.

I loved him.

For reasons yet unknown—and might never understand—he felt the same way about me.

Closing the distance between us, I relaxed into his warmth. "I missed you."

"Change your mind, did you?" His voice was infinitely huskier, undeniably teasing with heated promises.

I shook my head. I wanted him, if it ever stopped, but I also wanted to enjoy the simple comfort of being in his presence. Because it was in these moments where we just held each other that I felt like a true partner in every way, rather than just an interchangeable body convenient for a quick roll-around in the sheets. A physical quality I'd experienced only with Travis.

Shifting onto his side, he touched his fingers to my cheek. "Everything okay, Maddie?"

I smiled inwardly, knowing that my response would ultimately determine his mood, too. It amazed me that I could have such a profound influence on him.

Because Travis Ortiz was a force of nature. Ferociously dangerous. He carried himself like the lethal weapon he was in the cage, and made it seem so artlessly compelling, he often overshadowed anything and anyone that stood in his way.

He would always remain untameable and I admired that. My intention was never to change him—I wanted to accept him as the person he was, including every rough-edged facet of him.

"Yeah." I let the smile show. "Everything's good."

His brows lifted; then a softness filled his eyes. Abruptly, he surged up in a ripple of honed muscles, taking me along with him. Gripping me firmly in his arms, he swung his legs over the bed and stood.

He cupped my ass and gave it a two-handed squeeze as he carried me across the room to his en-suite. "Let's take a shower."

I fought the urge to laugh at his efforts to get me to give in and fold. I didn't expect anything less since we both were half-dressed.

Setting me down at the doorway, he left me to turn on the shower, and then stripped his boxers. My traitorous eyes wasted no time to take the opportunity to appreciate his powerful frame in all its nude glory.