Page 29 of The Devil's Scars

Chapter Six

Scars’ response was immediate. Powerful. Passionate.

He wrapped those huge, scarred arms around her, and he kissed her like she was the last woman he’d ever want to be close to, the last one he’d ever want to be with. Zero hesitation, zero holding back.

And God, his kisses were something else. Zoe had known her fair share of men in her life – maybe more than her fair share, because she’d been a bit wild in her teenaged years – but this man blew them all away. Left them in the dirt and the dust.

He kissed her like he was starved for her, like he was parched for her. Like he drew his air from her parted lips, like he drew life from her breath.

He kissed her like she was his.

She’d never been kissed this way, like she was being claimed. She liked it. She liked it a hell of a lot.

Scars broke away now, stared down at her intently. Those eyes were staring past her skin, past her bones, all the way to her core. He was silent, still, and all the passion she’d felt radiating from him a minute ago was gone.

“What’s the matter?” she said, suddenly totally terrified that she’d gotten him all wrong. “You don’t – don’t you want to? Be with me?”

“Fuck, baby… of course I want to be with you.” He caressed the nape of her neck with gentle fingers. “Hell, it’s all I want to do. Believe me.”

She relaxed, but still felt confused. “OK… it’s just that you look a bit unsure.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” He kissed her, and it was like a little point of emphasis to his words. “I’m as sure as sure can be, Zoe. I’m just checking in with you.”

“Oh,” she said, unaccountably touched that the scarred warrior had a bit of a gentleman side to him. “I’m good. Really good.”

“Are you now?” he murmured. “Let’s go see about that, huh?”

Her stomach jumped. Scars took her hand, tugged her down the hallway to the back rooms that she recalled the MC used for all kinds of activities, from private meetings to naps to sex. Her heartbeat sped up, double-time, triple-time, and she prayed like crazy that Scars didn’t stop in front of…

“This one,” he said, stopping. “I think it’s empty.”

Before she could push past her terror to say one word, he swung the door open, pulled her inside.

And Zoe froze up, just froze solid. The pool table was still there. The room hadn’t changed at all in six damn years – oh, my sweet dear God, it even smells the same – and in less than one second, she was thrown back to that night. She felt the rope on her wrists and ankles, felt her cheek and mouth throbbing from Bear’s punches, felt the knife in her soft flesh, felt the panic rising in her chest.

“It’s not The Ritz, but it’ll do.” Scars turned as he spoke, then saw her face. “What’s up?”

She didn’t have the breath to answer, so she just shook her head.

Alarmed, Scars took her face in his rough hands. “Zoe? What is it?”

“Not this one,” she managed at last. “Not this room.”

He looked around. “Why not?”

“Just – just not this one, OK, Scars?” Her voice was stronger now. “Any one but this one.”

Scars peered down at her, wondering just what the hell was going on. “You been here before?”

Noway she was answering that question, so she turned and walked straight out the door. If he wanted her, he’d follow.

Sure enough, she heard his heavy footfalls right behind her. She stopped and turned to face him again, her arms crossed. The shock of being back in that room had killed her arousal, but one look at him, and she felt a flutter in her stomach again.

“Zoe?” That voice was impossibly soft. “You alright?”

“I am now.” She gave him a tremulous smile. “Any other rooms free?”

He didn’t look very convinced, but he took her hand again, more carefully now, like he thought maybe she’d break or detonate. And just like that – at just the touch of those massive, scarred hands holding her smaller, smoother ones – her desire was reignited. All she could think about was that uneven, rough skin on her body. All over her body.

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