Page 44 of The Devil's Scars

“So – in your opinion – I’m a walking dick, right? Something to screw, get a few orgasms out of, call it a day?” God, he was hoping that she’d disagree with him, tell him that she’d felt that amazing connection the way that he had. The way that he still did. And no, he didn’t mean the one in the bedroom – though that one had been pretty damn astonishing, too. But she promptly dashed his hopes, brutally and totally.

“Uh, yeah. That was all I wanted from you that night.” She stared at him, wondering why he looked so damn angry. She was the one making this easy, after all, while he was the one who wanted to talk it to death. “Isn’t that all you wanted it to be?”

“So.” He spoke quietly now. “You were using me.”

“Uh, yeah,” she repeated. “And you were using me. We both got what we were after. No harm, no foul, no expectations or complications, and I just don’t get what the problem is here.”

“You want to know what the problem is?”

“Yeah.”

He leaned closer now and startled, she backed away. Unfortunately, the wall was right there, and she couldn’t go very far. She froze up, suddenly afraid of being all alone with this huge, angry man.

The feeling of being trapped and threatened only got worse when Scars raised both hands to the wall on either side of her head, his large arms bracketing and caging her in. She stared up at him, torn between longing and fear, barely breathing as that amazing body touched hers.

“The problem, baby, is that I don’t do one-nighters.” He scowled. “I never have.”

She laughed at that, and that was when her fear evaporated. “You sure as hell do, Scars. You did with me.”

“I didn’t know that’s what it was with you.”

“Oh, my God. Really?” She was mocking him now, and suddenly that seemed like the best way to get out of this confusing situation: make him mad as hell at her so he’d storm out, and then – with a bit of four-leaf-clover luck – he’d stay far, far away from her. Forever. “So when you took me to the bar back room, you were proposing marriage?” Her lip curled up. “My mistake, Scars.”

“Hey.” The urge to shake her until she stopped talking complete bullshit was building in his broad chest. “Zoe –”

“Look, I don’t understand what you’re trying to do here,” she cut him off. “But if I had to guess, I’d say that it’s got something to do with Wolf.”

Thatthrew him and his brow furrowed again. “Wolf?”

“Yeah.” She was back in control now and she glared at him. “You know he’s my best friend, and you know he’s gonna be pissed that you had sex with me. I think you’re just covering your ass with your Prez here, Scars.”

“Hold up.” He shook his dark head, stunned at just how badly she thought of him. He knew he wasn’t a goddamn choir boy, of course, but come the fuck on. “You honestly think that it went something like this: I was with you, and then started to worry that Wolf would kick my head in for touching the woman that he considers his kid sister. So – to throw him off – I’m playing at actually liking you and actually wanting to see you again… all to make Wolf think that I’m treating you with some respect?”

Zoe paused. Alright, she had to admit that hearing it uttered out loud like that showed her just how idiotic of a theory it was, but she needed to stick to her guns. She lifted her chin, defiant. “That about sums it up. Yeah.”

“That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. And I know you’re not stupid, Zoe, so why are you acting that way?”

“I’m not being stupid,” she snapped, goaded into revealing more than she wanted. “I’m protecting myself.”

Surprised, he leaned back a bit to better see her eyes. “From me?”

She shoved against him now, hard. She caught him off-balance and unprepared, and so despite his much greater height and weight, he stumbled backwards. Quick as a hiccup, she put about ten feet between them, surveyed him from the other side of a reclining chair. It was unfolded all the way down now, so its table-like length was a decent barrier between them.

“Zoe…” He took a step forward. “Hey –”

Fear flashed across her face and this time, he saw that it went deep. Right away, he stopped.

“OK, OK.” He held up his hands. “I’m staying right over here.”

“No,” she said, backing up another few feet. “You’re leaving.”

“No,” he responded, his voice gravely with frustration. “We’re not done talking about this.”

“We sure as hell are.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “I have my first client in less than fifteen minutes, so I’ll thank you to go now. I need to get things ready.”

“Fine.” He stalked over to the door, wrenched it open so hard she thought he’d tear it right off its damn hinges, and turned to her, his face like thunder. “This conversation is postponed, baby, but it’s nowhere close to over. What happened between us wasn’t the fucking end of anything, you hear me? It was just the beginning and the sooner you realize that, the better it’s all going to be for everyone. Have a good first day at work, Zoe. I hope it goes well for you.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving Zoe to stare after him. Wondering and hoping… and wondering why she so badly wanted to hope for something with Scars.

Fucking, fucking, fucking Scars Innis.

Mistake. Fatal fucking mistake. One not to be repeated, ever ever again.

Even if you want to.

God, Zoe. You idiot.

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