Page 22 of Pucks and Books

I laugh at that since I’ve never thought of myself as devilish, but I do enjoy how he brings out this side of me. I lick my lips, and then the doorbell rings. His arms tighten around me, and I giggle against his neck.

“Any other day, no one is here,” he mutters against my ear.

I nod. “Right? Jeez,” I say, trying to pull away, but he isn’t letting me go. I look at the back door, and in the window at the top, I can see the hat the guy is wearing. It’s my delivery. “It’s my books. I’ve got to get those.”

He grumbles. “But that means you have to get dressed.”

I giggle as I untangle myself from him. “I could just put on your shirt,” I suggest, grabbing it from where it lies beside us. It’s wet from my release, but it isn’t like the delivery guy is going to be touching me. I throw it on and decide this needs to be quick so we can shower and get dirty again. I look over my shoulder at Ciaran to find him watching me. Gone is the playfulness, and concern fills his eyes. I bring in my brows, confused. “I can get another shirt?—”

“No,” he says, standing in all his hot, naked glory. His cock is still glistening with my spit, and I see marks where my nails dug into his hips. Jesus, I wish I could take a picture to have for later because Ciaran looks all kinds of delectable. But before I can gush over him, he takes my hips in his large hands. “I love my shirt on you, especially when I know your come is all over it.”

I lean into him, and the bell sounds again. I want to ignore it, but I know I can’t. “Give me five.” But he doesn’t let me go. Confused, I ask, “Ciaran?”

His eyes search mine. “Louisa,” he says softly, and my heart aches at the tenderness. “What happened to your back?”

CHAPTER 14

Ciaran

I feel her tense in my arms. I see the excitement, the lust, and the joy leave her eyes instantly.

And I feel like the biggest dick in the world.

I wish I could take it back. I wish I hadn’t said anything, but her back has been mutilated. That’s the only word I can even think to use to describe it. She has so many scars, some deep pink and keloid, and then some that are thin and white. Her shoulders and upper back are riddled with them. It looks as if she’s been beaten, but surely that can’t be true. We don’t live in the back-slashing ages, so why in the hell does this gorgeous woman look like she’s been abused?

And who the fuck did it?

I get the feeling she isn’t going to answer me, and I almost press, but I refrain as I watch her struggle. I don’t like the look she has, or how it makes me feel like the slush on the ice that’s full of spit, blood, boogers, and the occasional tooth. I don’t want to be the one to cause that expression on her face. To hurt her. That wasn’t my intent. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you,” I find myself saying quickly.

She swallows hard, moving out of my arms, and I struggle with letting her go. She inhales deeply, letting it out in a rush before shrugging. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she says, waving me off.

I scoff. “So, you’re not only hot when you come, but you’re adorable when you lie.”

Her eyes cut to mine over her shoulder as she walks away. “Really, it’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” I call to her, but she ignores me. I move out of the line of sight of the door and listen as she accepts her shipment.

“Sorry, I was sleeping. I’ve had a migraine all day.”

“No worries, Ms. McDavid. I got twelve boxes for you.”

I listen to him put the boxes in the back room as I pull up my boxers, forgoing my pants so she doesn’t think that I want to leave. I should leave. The door is right there, and I’m not distracted by her at the moment. But I can’t. I don’t want to, which will pose an issue later. But right now, I want only her. I want to soothe those scars with my lips. I want to comfort her. I want to please her.

I want to make her forget the person who put them there.

When the back door shuts and the lock snaps into place, I come back out as she sets a packing slip on her desk. She leans on it, her eyes moving up and down my body before meeting mine.

Tense silence falls between us, and I hate it.

“New books?”

She nods, a small smile pulling at her lips. “The new shifter romance. Comes out on Tuesday.”

I nod. I know which one she’s talking about. “I planned on reading it Tuesday.”

“You didn’t preorder?”

“No,” I admit. “My roommate makes fun of my reading.”

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