Beautiful Scars (13 page)

“No hiding. Not either of us.” He just hoped he didn’t fuck it up all to hell. “Go to your room. Get naked. But I don’t want you getting under covers.”

Her lashes dipped. “Be careful how far you push me, Marc. I can only do so much,” she warned him quietly.

He had a feeling she could handle more than she realized, but they’d figure out boundaries and shit later. The only thing he wanted her to do was stop hiding from him. Shy. She was about as shy as he was. She’d just wanted to keep him from seeing the scars. Part of him could understand why, but she’d shown him and there was no point in trying to close that door now.

After she’d disappeared around the corner that led to her bedroom, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the picture, the ticket stub. There had been only one of the two of them. The others had all had Shera, Chaili and him. This one, though, it was just Chaili and him. She’d been laughing at him while he was making a face at her.

There had been a light in her eyes. One he realized he hadn’t seen in a good long while.

Whether it had been the cancer that had taken the light away, or just how fucking hard life had been since then, he didn’t know.

But he was going to put that light back in her eyes.

Slipping out of his jacket, he tossed it on the back of the couch, tucked the picture in the pocket. He kicked out of his shoes and socks and left them there as well. He left his shirt and jeans on, and on the way out of the room, he paused by a coat rack. Draped over one of the pegs was a knit scarf, it looked blue to him so it was likely some shade of green and he could see threads of silver twisting through it.

He took it down, rubbing the nubby weave between his fingers, twining it round and round his wrist.

It had been almost two minutes.

He killed another minute by stopping in her bathroom. It was neat as a pin, ruthlessly organized and showing no sign of anybody’s presence but hers.

He checked the miniscule closet, the cabinet under the sink, all without finding what he needed.

She’d closed the door to her bedroom most of the way. Pushing it open, he paused, his breath lodging in his throat as he saw her sitting on the edge of the bed, her legs crossed, hands folded neatly in her lap and a glint in her eyes as she stared at him.

The lights were off. Thick curtains, nearly the same shade as the scarf, blocked out the light. He hit the lights and watched as a minute flinch tightened her body before she relaxed. Chaili lowered her head and her shoulders rose and fell on a deep breath.

Without saying another word, he ambled over to the bed and dropped the scarf next to her, watching her tremble as she glanced at it. Turning away, he circled the room, eyeing the neat little desk, sans computer, sitting by the window.

He studied the neat stack of books, some with stickers from a used bookstore, others with the little tag that indicated they were from a library. Romance, urban fantasy… She’d always loved to read. And she’d hoarded her books too. There was also a huge, whopping stack of bills. He continued his trek around the room until he came to the nightstand by her bed. Crouching down next to it, he pulled open a drawer…bingo.

There were a couple vibrators there. Lubricant. He pulled out one of the vibrators—it was one that had an extra extension for the anus. As he turned it on, he glanced back at Chaili. Her face was flushed but she continued to stare at him, that glint still in her eyes.

“You like anal?”

“No. I just figured I’d shell out some cash for a vibrator like that for no reason,” she said, giving him a snotty little smile before lifting a hand and studying her nails.

“Smart ass.”

“Hmmm.”

He turned it off and tossed it on the bed, along with the lubricant and then a silver bullet that he saw tucked in the corner.

“You have a pair of scissors handy?”

She glanced at the desk behind him. “Over there.”

He found them, tucked in a neat little cup with a pens and pencils. He put the scissors on the bedside table but she didn’t even glance at them, nor did she seem all that concerned about the scarf he held. He wrapped it around his hands, watched as her gaze flicked down to it, lingered and then she went back to studying her nails.

“Stand up,” he told her.

She just sat there.

“Stand up,” he growled.

Lowering her hand, she lifted her head and stared at him for a long second before slowly rising to her feet.

“I want a couple of things clear,” he said quietly. “First…I think you’re beautiful. You’ve always been beautiful, and nothing changes that.” Laying his palm against her chest so that it covered one of the scars, he said, “This sure as hell doesn’t. Got it?”

Her only response was to blink, but he saw something glinting wet, diamond bright in her eyes.

“Second…I’m going to say shitty things, and do shitty things. You know that…are you going to hold it against me?”

Chaili curled her lip. “That depends…are you going to make the implication that I’m a whore again?”

“No.” A sick feeling twisted in his gut. “And I’m damned sorry I made you feel that way, because I know you’re not, and I don’t think of you that way. Are we clear on that?”

“We’re clear.”

“I won’t ever hurt you in a way you don’t like during sex, although we need to figure out the stopping limits. I’m talking about everything else. Like what happened last week. I’m damned good at putting my foot in my mouth and I’m damned good at screwing up. Are you going to ignore me every time I’m an asshole?”

He continued to keep his hand over her chest, stroking his thumb over the frail skin.

“If I did that, I’d never speak to you—never would have spoken to you after I met you when I was about twelve,” she said, sniffing a little. “Next to playing the piano and singing, being an asshole is one of your finer talents in life.”

With a wry grin, he muttered, “You know me well.”

Studying her face, he said, “We need to talk more later, but this isn’t a one-time, or a two-time thing. If that’s a problem, tell me now.”

Chaili just continued to watch him.

He hoped she couldn’t hear the excited little dance his heart was doing.

“About those limits, we’ll talk about them more later. Although I kind of hate some of the stupid shit some people use with this stuff…I think it’s a good idea to set guidelines and ground rules. For now, I just want a word you can use if I’m going too far or hurting you.”

“I take it asshole isn’t a good one.”

He jerked her against him and palmed her ass. “Probably not. I have plans on fucking yours here shortly so that’s probably not ideal.”

Her eyes widened and her pupils spiked, flared. As a rosy flush settled on her cheeks, she touched her tongue to her lips. “Ah…taco,” she blurted out.

“Taco?” he asked, amused, tracing the line between the cheeks of her ass, watching her lashes drift down, listening to the way her breathing hitched.

“Yes.”

“Gotcha. Taco, it is.” He let her go and said, “Turn around and put your hands on the bed.”

Chaili took her time doing so, but it wasn’t so much to push his buttons and see just how far he was going to go. It was because she couldn’t get her damn legs to work.

This was really happening. Her knees felt like butter and her heart was slamming against her ribs so hard she couldn’t breathe. She’d almost come to grips with the fact that she’d had some seriously hot sex with Marc, but he was a guy, right? Guys were into sex and she’d been available, but this…

He stroked a hand down her spine, cupped her ass.

This was more than sex.

He’d seen her—her scarred, imperfect body—and he still wanted her.

He lifted his hand and brought it down on her ass. Hard. The pleasure of it jolted through her side by side with the pain and she cried out, her fingers curling into the nubby fabric of her comforter, seeking out something to ground herself with.

He paused, waiting. She squeezed her eyes closed, desperate, ready for him to do it again. The only time Tim had ever done this—

No. Don’t think about him
…

Marc spanked her again. She moaned as the delicious sensation rolled through her, spreading upward, outward.

Again. Again. On the fifth one, her knees buckled and if he hadn’t caught her with his hands around her hips, she would have ended up on the floor.

He kept a hand on her hips, steadying her as he traced over the sensitive flesh of her butt, the skin still stinging from his attention. “I like seeing your skin turn pink,” he said, his voice still level but just a little more hoarse than normal. A little more edgy and raw.

His voice was just another sensation, stroking over her like silk, rubbing against sensitive nerve endings, making her burn so very badly. “Get on the bed,” he rasped.

She eased away and went to get on her hands and knees, but he stopped her. “On your back. I want to see you spread out under me.”

Closing her eyes, she hunched her shoulders. Behind her, he waited, one hand on her hip. “No more hiding.”

No hiding. She pulled away and turned, sat on the edge and scooted back. The busted box springs of the broken-down mattress made an awful sound but she ignored it, staring instead at his hands as he reached for the bottom of his shirt to drag it off.

Man, she loved his hands…

He put one knee on the edge of the bed. “Lie back for me.”

Okay. She could do this…

He was looking at her face, anyway, right?

But then he reached for the vibrator. Oh, hell.

Her breathing caught and she watched as a wicked little grin canted up the corner of his beautiful mouth. She just wanted to eat him sometimes, hold his face in her hands and kiss him until they were stupid with it and then work on down…

“What are you thinking?” he asked softly.

Catching her lip between her teeth, she studied him. Man, if he had been one of the few lovers she’d had before hooking up with Tim, she could have told him. Easily. Tim had never been one for wanting to know her thoughts, but the others…yeah. They’d been pretty good. Tim…well, he’d pushed all her kink buttons, but he’d never wanted to
talk
with her.

If she hadn’t been reeling emotionally and just looking for something, she never would have married him, she knew.

But it was harder to tell Marc.

Because Marc was the only man who’d ever managed to really
matter
.

“I’m thinking I’d like to kiss you stupid,” she finally said. “Then I’d liked to get on my knees and take you in my mouth and see if I could make you feel about as weak and crazy as you make me.”

Something flared in his eyes, a wild, crazy glint. He tossed the vibrator back down and stood. “Do it, then.”

Swallowing, she accepted the hand he offered and stood, easing in closer until she was pressed against his chest, waiting. He grinned down at her, his hair falling into his face. “You wanted to kiss me stupid, baby girl. Have at it.”

Cupping his face in her hands, she eased up onto her toes, angling her head just a little as she pressed her mouth to his. Hmmm. The way he tasted. He was…yeah. Just amazing. Just like his voice. Whiskey-soaked addiction. Flicking her tongue against his lips, she groaned as he opened for her. Leaning in closer, she nibbled on his lower lip, nipped the upper one and then pushed inside.

He shuddered against her, but remained unmoving, impassive.

If it wasn’t for the way she could feel his chest rising and falling against her, so ragged and harsh, she might think he was unaffected. If it wasn’t for the way his body felt rigid, heavy with tension and need, she might think he wasn’t as aroused as she was.

One drugged kiss after another—now the need pulsed inside her, a vicious ache.

When she pulled away, she paused and rubbed her cheek against his, smiling at the way his unshaven skin rasped against the softness of her own. Shooting a quick look at his eyes, she shivered a little when she saw that he was watching her, his gaze so focused, so intense.

She pressed a kiss to his chin, down his neck. Along the sleek muscled lines of his chest. “You know, for a piano player, you sure are cut,” she teased. “What do you do, lift the pianos or something?”

“I chase after smart-mouthed web designers,” he muttered, swatting her on the ass.

“I don’t think that would make you look quite like this,” she said, sighing as she smoothed her hands over his chest. The silver hoop in his nipple was gone, replaced by a barbell. Tugging on it, she watched as a fine tremor racked his body. “I like this.”

He cupped the back of her head in his hand, guided her mouth to his nipple.

She caught the bit of metal between her teeth, tugged on it again, a little harder this time, and satisfaction pulsed through her as he hissed out a breath.

Looking up at him, she saw that his head had fallen back, the thick black hair falling away from his face, eyes heavy lidded, mostly closed.

Going to her knees, she reached for his belt buckle, then unsnapped, unzipped his jeans. Tugging them down to just below his ass, she caught him in her hand, pumped once. Twice. Then she leaned in and licked him.