Page 25 of Skin Deep

“Then give me a chance to get to know you.” He traced a calloused thumb down my jaw, making me fight a shudder.

“Why?” I snapped and finally pulled away. “Why are you so interested in me? I’m nobody to you. We have nothing in common. I don’t even like you.”

“Now that last part is a lie,” he said, folding his arms over his obscenely muscular chest.

I turned away from him, my face burning. “I’m not someone you want.”

“Can’t I be the judge of that?”

“No,” I said firmly and walked down the stairs.

Rather than go for the car to leave like a smart man, I veered to the left, walking into the small patch of woods on the edge of the property. The trees had always felt safer to me. There was something magical about being under a canopy of leaves, hidden from the sky, that I found comforting, especially in the summer.

Growing up, whenever life got overwhelming, the trees were the first place I went, disappearing in the long winding paths and scraping my legs and arms up on the thorn bushes. I wasn’t one of those kids who was good at climbing, or even good at hiking, but I pretended to be.

Most of the time I was pretending I was someone else like Aragorn fromThe Lord of the Rings. I’d walk through the trees, swinging my stick at vines like they were orcs, shouting at squirrels, climbing up on fallen tree trunks in search of missing hobbits. I used to believe I was someone who could save people, but I wasn’t a hero. Somehow, I’d grown up to be more like Boromir than Aragorn—someone thrust into a leadership role that wasn’t fit for it, someone prone to obsessions, too weak to resist temptation dangled in front of him.

Dry leaves rustled behind me as Paxton closed in, walking briskly.

I spun around to face him, scowling. “Was walking away not clear enough for you? Then let me clear it up for you. Leave me alone, Paxton.”

“I can’t,” he said, still closing in on me.

I took a step back, but he kept coming so I backed away some more. “Yes, you can. You have to.”

“Why?”

“Because—” I broke off as my back hit a tree trunk.

Paxton was suddenly in my face, taking up all the air. I shrank against the rough bark of the tree, my heart pounding. His hands came to rest against the tree on either side of my head. There were at least a dozen ways for me to escape, plenty of weak points exposed that I could strike out against, and I was armed with two knives. So why was I standing there like a weak idiot, breathing him in?

“I know you like me,” he said, leaning in closer.

“I hate you.” The words sounded so weak that I didn’t even believe them when they fell out of my mouth.

“What are you so afraid of?” he asked, his lips hovering so close to mine that I could feel him breathing on me.

“I’m not afraid of anything, least of all you,” I lied. I was afraid ofeverything. I licked my lips, staring at his, wishing he’d fucking kiss me already, even if I couldn’t make myself say it. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the feel of his lips on mine ever since he surprised me with that kiss in the hallway earlier. “Get away from me or I’ll cut you open and introduce you to your intestines.”

He smirked and put both his hands on me, holding my face so that his thumbs brushed over my cheeks. “God, you’re so fucking hot when you’re threatening to kill me,” he said and kissed me.

Paxton’s lips were plush and warm, a luxury I didn’t deserve, but I melted into them just the same. Eyes closed, I let myself imagine a world where it could work, if only for a moment. I conjured a fantasy world where we went on coffee dates and had anniversary dinners, where we sent each other flowers at work and made out on the couch late at night after his kids went to bed. Anormallife. A life that could never be because we weren’t normal people. Normal was a mask we put on for other people. A lie.

And so was this.

Maybe he was interested now, but that was only because he didn’t know me. He hadn’t had time to see the ugly side of me, the terrifying mess I was beneath it all. Once he did, he’d do the same thing everyone else had done. He’d leave me or send me away. He’d tell me how useless I was, how sick I was, that he didn’t need me and my problems to complicate his life.

And even if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be safe. Not with me. He’d wind up dead, just like the only man I’d ever let myself love before him. I was poison, and he was drinking me down.

I’d promised myself I’d never put myself through that again. I couldn’t. I didn’t think I’d survive it again.

My hands shot out, closing as fists in the fabric of his shirt. He started to pull away, but I wasn’t done. I held him there, panting against him. “Bite me.”

He nipped at my lip.

“Harder,” I demanded.

Paxton bit my bottom lip, but released it before it actually started to hurt.

---