Page 103 of Look, Don't Touch

“That’s a no. What about your tattoos?”

“Only to Crave.”

He drinks deeply from his water glass. “Why don’t we go out today and show the city how fucking hot you are?”

My mouth hangs open. Sure, I’ve been out of the apartment without makeup. But only to work out or run to the corner store with my head down and sunglasses in place.

“Broken girl chic doesn’t pair well with billionaire.”

He sits back and crosses his arms over his chest. His gaze sizes me up for so long that I squirm.

“You’re not broken, Hailey.” He leans forward and pulls off his shirt with one hand at his nape. It’s such a hot move, but I can’t appreciate it. I’m too horrified at the landscape of scars marring his perfect skin. “And neither am I.”

He sits proud. “We have scars on the inside and out. Yours just manifested in the form of tattoos. But they don’t define us any more than being a billionaire or psychologist. They are parts of a whole.”

Arlo’s fingertips spread the top of my robe, correction, his robe that I’m wearing. He outlines Smokey’s ferocious face and the edge of his wings. “You’ll show a little dragon. I’ll show a little abuse. Where do you want to go?”

I lean forward and press my lips to the marred skin over Arlo’s heart. I press my cheek to his chest and let his heartbeat fill my ears. “I want to go to your past and smother the truck driver in his sleep so he can’t ruin your life. I want to go to the man who spawned your uncle and castrate him at puberty so that he never existed.”

He sits me up. His kisses trace the lines of my tears.

“If you did, I would never know Hota or you. My life would be completely different. I would be a completely different person.”

“For you not to have endured what you did.” I place my hand over his heart. “I would sacrifice it.”

Arlo’s warm hand covers mine. “I wouldn’t.”

“Well, fuck me. I’m in love.” I plop myself onto the couch in Astor’s apartment.

“Ahhhhhhhh!” The scream that comes out of her either means the cops will be knocking on the door in ten minutes to do a wellness check or she’ll be evicted and looking for a new place to live next week. The ruckus hurts my damn ears. Still, despite my dilemma and her uncomfortable decibel level, I give her a smile.

“I knew it!” She jumps up and down and shakes her fists in the air. Her teeth are brilliant in the lamplit glow she has going. Her skin is effervescent.

“Did you go to the spa?”

Her smile doubles. I don’t understand how it’s possible with the wattage. She’s shining brighter than the bulbs in her lamps. She centers herself enough to pour two sangrias. But her smile doesn’t dim at all.

“I went to Crave.” She slaps a hand over her mouth the second the words are out.

I jerk upright and stare at her. She stares back at me. It’s like we don’t even know the other person sitting across from us.

“Holy shit!” I shriek, ensuring either her being kicked to the curb or meeting the local cops soon. “What is going on with us!”

“I don’t know.” She squeals.

“I don’t know either!”

Someone upstairs stomps on the ceiling. We both burst into hysterics. They stomp some more. So we laugh some more.

“Oh my God. We’re adults, right? Successful. Productive. Professional therapists.” My voice is getting higher and higher with every word. “We’re supposed to know what the fuck is going on, right?”

She shrugs, and it sends us into another fit of giggles.

Lifting her glass to her lips, Astor strains to swallow around a laugh. She points at me. “You first.”

“Oh, hell no.” My head is shaking. “Miss Crave is Holding You Back From Your Full Potential. Miss Kink is Fine for Others. It’s just not for me. Miss I Could Never.” I threaten her with my deep rose-colored liquor. “Spill or I will.”

“Miss I Don’t Invest My Heart. I invest my money.” Astor uses a nasally voice with her snark. I tip my liquid to the very rim of my glass.

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