Page 49 of White Hole

“I want to take you out to Wal-mart.”

“Oh. Okay. Great.” Frustrated, I turned to look at the night sky out my window. “Cassiopeia.”

George dipped his head to peek out at the sky. “Yep. That’s why you aced your test.” He grabbed my hand from my lap and held it on the large center console of the truck. An earthquake exploded in my chest with the heavy thuds of my heart. If he didn’t touch more of me soon, I would explode like a dying star. Like a white hole.

“Thank you for your lucky patch. I need to give it back.”

“You keep it until the MCAT results come in. That’s how it works.” He squeezed my hand, and I breathed deeply. “Who was that scrawny tool in the bar?”

“High school ex. Wants his cheap bracelet back to give to his new girlfriend.” Involuntarily, my eyes rolled.

“Get rid of it and be done with it.”

“I’m thinking of flushing it down the toilet. Or melting it into scrap. Or running it through dog poop and giving it back.”

George grunted.

“What?”

“I should have known you’d be vindictive.” He glanced at me. “What, did he leave you for her?”

“No.”

We pulled into the parking lot of the store.

“But he broke up with you.”

“Yes.” I didn’t want to confess the reason. It was too humiliating. If I mentioned them, George could see me differently. He hadn’t said anything about my skin, yet, but I hadn’t been completely nude in the light for him. I wanted to be. Almost imperceptibly, I said, “He didn’t like my scars.”

“What?!” George’s brow furrowed and his eyes got dark. He jumped out of his side of the truck and before I could undo my belt and get out, he was there, pulling me to him. In our position, he backed me against the back window, putting himself between my legs. His erection was still palpable.

“He broke up with me because of the scars from my accident,” I said more boldly this time.

“Toss that shitty bracelet and be done with him. Fuck that guy.” He leaned into me, so his mouth was over my ear. His deep bass rolled straight to my core and made my clit vibrate. “I’m going to take my time and lick your scars. Every. Single. One. Bathe them with my tongue and suture them with my sucks. Then I’m going to kiss them to make it all better. I love them. They’reyou, Sins. And you’re a fucking survivor.”

I didn’t know I needed to, but tears escaped my eyes and rolled down my cheeks as I cried. A tiny whimper and shaky breath escaped my mouth at his words, and he backed up to stare at my face which flushed with embarrassment.

Knotting his hands through my hair, he dipped into me and suctioned his mouth to mine. We were as close as we could be with our clothes on. He groaned, thrusting his hips to show his need.

He mumbled on my lips, “We gotta hurry with this and get the fuck back to the manor.” I nodded in emphatic agreement.

Wait, did George just say ‘love’? That he ‘loves’ my scars?

He let me slide down his body, but I got hung up on his pole in a momentary bump. He slammed my door shut, locked the truck, and grabbed my hand as we ambled to the store. Like a couple.

“Why were you trying to go after Barrett Grant again?”

“Barrett Grant? The mayor’s son? He’s the one that hit me with his car while drunk. And the police covered it up, and no one believes me.”

“I believe you.” His blue eyes were intense in their gaze.

“Really?”

“Yeah, Sins. Really.”

I clutched his large, firm bicep and waltzed into the store by his side. One person believed me. And that was enough. Beating the system, I couldn’t do it alone… Now, I had backup. I’d never felt so free.

George tugged me to the Halloween section first.

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