Page 103 of The Spider & the Storm

An amused grin spread across my face as I lifted my eyes lazily from her chest to her eyes. “Not these.”

She glanced down at the breasts in question—the nipples pierced and bejeweled with black barbells, the curved sides tattooed with black-and-gray florals and bats—and screwed her lips to the side. “I've never liked them,” she said almost to herself. “They're kinda lopsided, and the right one sags a little more than the left.” She looked back to me as I tried to unsuccessfully find the imperfections she was pointing out. “Right? I got, like, weirdFrankensteinboobs.”

I guffawed and shook my head. “Can't say I agree with that at all, but okay.”

“Oh, whatever.” She rolled her eyes away from mine as she stretched her legs out to untie her Chucks. “I forget all men care about is seeing a chick naked. You're not really seeing my body for what it is. You're just thinking with your dick, and listen, that's cool. I get it. You're simpleminded. You can't help that.”

She prattled on as she undid the laces while my brow furrowed and my head shook softly.

“Uh, that's not true at all. Not always,” I replied, my voice low, nearly offended by the accusation.

One shoe was pulled off as that intense green gaze shot toward me sidelong. “Oh?”

I sat up and moved to face her, pulling her other sneakered foot onto my lap. One corner of her mouth barely lifted into a smile as I began to untie the knot.

“My brother, Luke …” I cleared my throat after uttering his name aloud for the first time in years, keeping my eyes on my hands, slowly undoing the black laces. “He was the kind of guy you're describing. Single-minded, only cared about sex … you know. But I never was. And don't get me wrong; I like sex as much as the next guy. But I was never like him, sleeping with whoever would look at me. Honestly, I always had a hard time with stomaching the idea of sleeping with someone I didn’t at least have some connection with, but he didn't seem to have that problem, and I couldn't understand if there was something wrong with him or me or … I don't know … both of us.

“So, anyway,” I continued, loosening the laces, “one day, after this woman left our house, I asked him about that. I said, 'How the hell do you do that so easily?' And he looked at me like a second head had just sprouted from my neck and said, 'The hell are you talking about?' So, I told him, and he stared at me like his heart was breaking all over again right in front of me. Then, he said, 'It's only like that for me becauseIknow andyouknow that it'll never be more than just fucking for me. You still have a chance to find more than that; you still have hope. But there's no hope left for me, Charlie, and I don't want it. I'm just fucking until I can't anymore, but you …’” I pulled in a deep breath as I tugged her shoe off and dropped it to the floor. “'You keep looking.'

“So, that's what I'm doing,” I said, finally looking up to her eyes, never once stopping to take in the sight of her bare breasts or the tattoos etched into the skin of her chest or sternum. “I like sex, and believe me when I say that seeing you naked is a fucking honor. But I'd never be so arrogant to assume I was privy to either without your invitation. Because at the end of the day, all I'm looking for is something more than just this.”

She stared at me for several loud, booming beats of my heart, and to my horror, a tear worked its way from the corner of her eye to slide over her cheek. Then, she blinked, laughed, and swatted that crystal drop away as she rolled her gaze to the ceiling.

“Jesus Christ, Charlie. You’d better stop doing that shit,” she said with a groan, holding her palms to her eyes and shaking her head. “I don't fucking cry. I don'tlikecrying. But, God, you're just …” She groaned again in lieu of words.

“Cheesy?” I offered, quirking one side of my mouth in a self-deprecating grin. “Lame? Stupid? Stop me when I hit on something accurate.”

“No!” She dropped her hands to her lap and bit her bottom lip before saying, “You're sweet, and you're nice, and you're not at all what I expected, and you deserve more—”

“Stop.” I pressed my hands to her knees. “I'm not going to pretend there isn't a lot I don't know about you or where you've been, but don't take who I am right now, in this room, as any indication of who you think I was before. Don't assume you know what I deserve.”

I hadn't removed a single article of clothing yet, but I felt more naked than if I'd been stripped bare. Stormy's eyes narrowed for only a second with questions ablaze. I knew there was an invitation in the things I'd said, and if she asked now, I would answer as best as I could. I’d told you I was done running, and I had meant it.

But where I expected questions, she only nodded and replied, “Okay,” as if, right now, none of it mattered. Maybe it would in the morning or in the middle of the night, whenthe euphoria eventually slipped away, but in this moment, we settled for acceptance.

She stood on her knees before me, hooking her fingers in the waistband of her black leggings. I pressed my palms to the microdermal piercings adorning her hip bones, twinkling in the glow of the lamp, and leaned closer to pepper kisses over the detailed serpent, coiling up from beneath her leggings to slither toward her rib cage.

I lowered my hands, laying them over hers. My head tipped back, meeting her gaze. Asking silently for permission to assist, and with a deep swallow, she nodded.

She wasn’t wearing anything underneath the soft, stretchy fabric—a fact that no longer surprised me but instead just turned me on to the point of discomfort. As every inch of her smooth, inked, bejeweled skin was revealed to my hungry eyes and salivating mouth, she watched me, power crackling in her stare and beneath her flesh.

“You're overdressed,” she stated, casually lying back to kick her leggings off the rest of the way and dropping them beside the bed.

“I think maybe I'll just look at you for a while,” I countered, struggling to maintain my composure as she leaned against my pillows, stretching her arms out wide and bending her knees, crossing one thigh over the other.

No woman had ever lain in my bed, but if there was to be a first, I was grateful it was her, with every one of her piercings glimmering in the light and every one of her tattoos stark against the pallor of her porcelain skin. I had never felt luckier in my fucking life.

“Is this the something more you were looking for?” She cocked her head, addressing me with a cool, teasing smile.

I only sniffed a quiet laugh, hanging my head to conceal the warmth in my cheeks. Knowing that the something more wasn't in her nudity or the sacred place between her legs, but I couldn't say that. I couldn't tell her that I felt so certain that something was very likely concealed within her heart, and I suddenly found myself afraid that I'd be undone if I ever had to be without it.

So, I said nothing as I pulled my T-shirt off, refreshing her memory of what she'd already seen when she caught me chopping wood. Then, I stood at the side of the bed, keeping my eyes locked on hers as I undid my jeans and let them hang around my waist.

Her eyes took the opportunity to roam then, frisking over my arms and chest before dropping to my softly defined abs and waist.

“How did you get that?” she asked in a hush, and I dropped my eyes to follow her gaze to the neat scar along my lower belly, just above my groin.

It was five years old now, whitened with the passing of time, but any attention brought to that puckered line of skin always brought with it the memory of feeling cold metal slice through my skin in the upstairs hallway, just outside my bedroom.

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