Page 66 of Splintered Hearts

“Yes.” Jamie uncaps a new marker, going back to the drawing.

“What’s wrong with them?”

“Other than that they looking fucking gross?” Okay, well, I understand being self-conscious, but I have a feeling there’s more to it.

“Well, I’m sure they aren’t.”

“I know what they look like.”

“They look like scars on your body, I’m sure. What’s the big deal?”

Jamie stops, looking up at me. “You’re going to tell me you’d be just as attracted to me with them?”

“Why do you care if I find you attractive?” I smirk. A scowl grows on his face. He knows I got him.

“That’s not... that’s not what I mean. That’s not what—”

“Close your eyes. Just trust me.”

“Trust you?”

“Sweetie. I am a very patient man.”

“Doubtful.” Pressing his lips into a fine line, Jamie sighs, closing his eyes.

“Promise me you won’t flinch or hit me.”

“I’d never hit you.” He glares.

I didn’t think so either. “Trust me.” Sighing heavily, he nods. I take the hem of Jamie’s shirt and he stiffens. “Just relax. I’m not going to hurt you.” As I lift his shirt up Jamie goes rigid. “Arms.”

“What are you doing?”

“Trust me.” He swallows hard, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob. He concedes, lifting his arms up and taking his shirt off. I drink him in. Jamie is both right and wrong. I'll admit that the deep purple scars are all over and a little shocking, but he’swrong to think they take anything away from him. My eyes go to the biggest one, on his pec. Reaching out, I drag myfinger over the puckered skin. He shivers.

Jamie’s eyes flutter open. His big body is so warm under me. Leaning in I press a kiss to the biggest one, and when I pull back, Jamie’s eyes are shining on me. They’re so brown that they’re nearly black.

Gorgeous.

Everything about him is beautiful.

“Jamie, I don’t know how to tell you this.” Leaning in next to his ear, I grin playfully, nipping his lobe. “Your fucking attitude is what makes you less attractive. Not your scars.” Fuck I wish that were true, though, because yeah, his attitude is kind of hot also. Jamie barks more than he bites.

Blinking, Jamie grabs a marker. “Let me finish,” he chokes out, and busies himself going back to the drawing.

“How’s your back now?” I knead the muscles connecting his shoulders and neck lightly. Just a little squeeze, but Jamie’s eyes flutter closed when it feels good. My fingers itch to touch his hair, and Jamie doesn’t move or say a word as I idly play with it.

“When I was younger, no matter what situation I was in or where I was at, there was always something to draw with, or on. Paper, napkins... fuck, one time I used toilet paper. A pen, marker, busted-up crayon. Something. It was the one constant I had, and the one thing that kept my mind busy.” Frowning at his words, I don’t dare speak. “I don’t remember when I started, it was young. I always remember drawing.”

I smile. “Kind of the same for me with reading. My mother used to read to me. Then I had this nanny, she always read to me too. She was really nice. I was so pissed when my father fired her.”

“Why did he fire her?”

“Because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.” Angerhits me. I’m still so pissed. My father’s no stranger to taking advantage of younger women. “She got replaced by this ancient woman who hated kids. Luckily, by then I could read on my own. As long as I had a book I could shut everything else out.”

Jamie looks up, and those striking eyes hit me square in the chest. “Gilded cages and whatnot.”

Laughing softly, I nod. “Yeah, something like that.”

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