Page 3 of Sinful Scars

I wish she could see herself through my eyes. If she was mine, I wouldn’t let a day go by without telling her how beautiful she is, not just on the outside but on the inside too.

Reaching for my fresh drink, I try to ignore the building ache in my chest as I watch Elle.

She’s smiling, but even from across the bar, I can tell it’s not a true smile, the type that has her entire face lighting up and her nose scrunching in the most adorable way. Those are rare, and certainly not reserved for assholes in cheap suits with even cheaper pick up lines.

Her eyes are looking anywhere but at him, and my lips twitch at her lack of interest.

“Walk away, creep,” I mutter as I take another sip of my drink.

The glass almost slips from my fingers as the guy does the opposite.

Ignoring Elle’s lack of interest, he moves his hand to her bare thigh and squeezes the soft flesh.

My body starts to vibrate as my blood starts boiling.

When you’re raised with a father like mine, you can’t afford to lose your temper, so you learn to internalize the anger. I’ve learned to channel it in a way that heightens my focus and sharpens my senses, despite the pounding in my ears.

I’m a second away from intervening when Elle gets to her feet, shaking her head as she glances around for her friend.

Even from across the bar, I can tell Elle is asking him to leave her alone.

I bounce my knee up and down, fighting the urge to intervene. I know Elle can handle her own, but she shouldn’t have to.

Her word deserves to be respected, but it seems this fucker wasn’t raised to respect women.

My restraint is about to snap as fear flashes in Elle’s eyes, but then he’s holding his hands up and backing awaylike he misread her polite smile and spray-on dress as an invitation.

As he walks away toward the back. I don’t miss the way her hand shakes as she reaches for her drink and brings the glass to her lips.

I hate that she was made to feel like this, like she has something to apologize for when men like him can’t handle a knock to their ego.

Perhaps if I didn’t see the flash of fear in her beautiful eyes, I would have been content to let it go. All I need is to know that she’s happy.

Who am I kidding…

He might have gotten the message eventually, but that’s not fucking good enough.

I’m sliding off my bar stool and stalking toward the bathroom before I can talk myself out of it.

A laugh almost escapes me when I find the fucker fixing his over-gelled hair in the mirror.

“Do you get off on harassing women?” I slam the door shut behind me.

His eyes flick to mine in the mirror, and a deep crease appears between his eyebrows.

“Excuse me?”

“She clearly wasn’t interested.” I take a step closer to him.

If he wants to leave, he’s going to have to get past me first.

“What the fuck are you on about?” He turns to face me, and I don’t miss the way he puffs up his chest as he looks me up and down.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

His mouth breaks out into a feral smile as he catches on.

“I can have any woman in this place, so you can have the little slut?—”

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