Page 64 of The Devil's Scars

“Get this part straight in your head, baby.” Scars was speaking in a low rasp now, his thumb slowly stroking the tender, vulnerable flesh, making goosebumps rise with every lazy back-and-forth. “I forgive you for being a stone-cold bitch, that’s no problem. I accept your apology, with an open heart and no reservations. But I don’t accept your lame-ass offer of friendship. I reject it, totally and fully, and I don’t care if that’s harsh. What I will do is wait for you to open your eyes, and admit to yourself that you need me as much as I need you. You’ve ruined me for all other women, baby… utterly ruined me. My God, Zoe… I’m yours for the taking, don’t you know that?” His rough fingers stroked the length of her throat and she arched, just a little bit. “Just reach out and take me, beautiful. Do it.”

Zoe’s breath caught at his words. The fact that he was throwing her friendship straight back in her face was a shock, like he was jumping all over a peace offering, or slamming the door in the face of a neighbor bringing over a ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ pie. Nobody did that, right? Nobody said, ‘I don’t want to be friends with you! Shove your stupid cake!’. Nobody but goddamn Scars Innis, apparently.

But the fact that he was inviting her to… what? Take him? Just reach out like he was an apple or a pear, and pluck him off a tree? Like he was sitting there, all ripe and ready and bursting with flavor, all warm and inviting in the sun, just hanging out and waiting for her?

She didn’t know where to look all of a sudden. She was feeling very exposed, very uncomfortable, very aware of his breath and heat and strength.

She was also feeling very turned on.

Goddammit.

Zoe didn’t know if it was his body or his words – or both, most probably it’s both, because it’s always both – but she wanted him to touch her. Pull her close. Kiss her. She wanted him to stretch that huge body the full length of hers, and take her, just take her like he did that night.

That one amazing, incredible, life-changing night.

A night that she spent way too much damn time thinking about, and wanted a repeat of way too damn much.

Her gaze focused on his lips now, those lips that knew her most intimate places and parts. God, the man could kiss, he kissed like the devil himself – and suddenly, Zoe knew that she’d sell her soul right here and right now for a kiss from Scars.

Just one. What would one hurt?

No, no, no. Zoe. No.

“Baby,” he murmured now, his voice lower than usual. “You’re staring at me. What are you thinking?”

“Kissing you,” she said, before she could stop herself. “But… I won’t.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll kiss you.”

“You –”

That was all she got out before he was on her, rough and demanding, no preamble or building up in intensity. He took her mouth, took her the way that she’d been longing for – and Zoe went weak in the knees immediately. She sagged a bit, let herself lean into him, hand over to him.

It felt so… easy. So right.

Scars tightened his arms around her as he felt her sway, then surrender. He was stunned at the utter lack of token resistance from her, and that was a huge relief. He’d never once forced a woman to accept even so much as a kiss from him, and even though he knew that Zoe wanted this (she’d even come right out and said that she wanted this), he didn’t want to wear her down or manipulate her.

No, he wanted her to want this too, without shame or worry or second-guessing herself. He wanted her to accept her own wants and desires, and embrace them, and revel in them. He wanted her to ask for his kiss and beg for his touch.

So her kissing him back like this, without an intake of breath or stiffening in shock, was a big step. At least, he hoped it was.

His kisses were savage, hard, passionate. He didn’t care about going slow or being gentle or building things up, not this time. He’d gone from zero to sixty in less than half a second – and from her little moans and trembling body and harsh breathing, Zoe was fully on-board with it.

And thank fuck, because he’d been burning up for her for weeks now.

Without a word, he shoved her backwards until her lower body was pressing against his desk. She gave a small, shocked cry, and her arms tightened around him.

“Easy, baby,” he muttered into her open, panting mouth. “Be a good girl and lean back now.”

“What –”

With a growl of impatience, he slid his hands under her ass, lifted her, lowered her until her back was on the desk, and her legs were wrapped around his hips. She gasped, clung to his shoulders and neck as the world tilted and went sideways. Her body was tense now, her body starting to come up off the wooden surface beneath her. Papers fell to the floor like snow, scattering under his feet.

“Lean back, I said,” he rasped, his large, hard body pressing against her frame. “I’m not going to ask again.”

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