Page 13 of Beautiful Scar

I can’t help but smirk at her reaction. “It’s underwear,pisik. I can handle seeing a woman’s underthings.”

“Still, we’re practically strangers.” Her spine straightens as she gathers her things. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“You’re my wife. You can get changed in front of me.” I’m grinning now, unable to help myself.

Her blush deepens. “No, definitely not. I can’t do that. I mean?—”

“You’re acting like me seeing you naked is somehowimproper.”

“That’s because it is.” She looks around in a panic. “We don’t even know each other.”

“But you’re my wife. What’s more proper than seeing my wife’s naked body? Who else can we fuck, if not our spouse?”

“I thought you said it was going to be my choice.”

“And it will be. But you’re acting like I’m some man off the street. You’re my wife now,pisik. If I see your body, if I see your underwear, these things are normal.”

“Maybe to you,” she grumbles, backing away toward the bathroom door. “But not to me.”

I gesture for her to go ahead and use the bathroom. She strides away, spine straight and chin held high, which surprises me. I expected her to scurry like a scared little mouse.

But there’s definitely fire in her belly.

She hides it under that meek little exterior. I don’t know what happened in her life to make her like that, but I’ll find out. And maybe, with some time and a little coaxing, I’ll be able to draw her out.

I decide to change as well. My comfortable clothes are in my suitcase in the closet. I get them out and take off my suit, shrugging my shoulders and stretching my arms as I go. It’s been a long day, and I’m ready for it to be over. I step out of my suit pants with a sigh and toss them aside.

“Okay, that’s much?—”

I turn around.

There she is, wearing an old Metallica t-shirt and tight sweats.

Her face is so red I’m worried she’s having a heart attack.

Chapter 4

Tigran

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize—” She takes a step back, her jaw hanging open.

“Is something wrong?” I leisurely pick up my joggers. I’m in nothing but my boxer briefs right now. Her eyes scan down my chest, along my tattoos, linger on my scars and my muscles. I like the way she looks at me. Like she’s a little bit hungry. She licks her lips and lets out a soft whimper.

Like she wants to sink her teeth into my chest while I pump my cock between her legs.

“Sorry.” She turns and scurries away like I’m carrying the plague.

I laugh as I pull on my clothes. God, this girl. She’s uptight, and I have no idea why.

The girl really is beautiful. There’s a spark too—I felt it in the church when I cradled her lap in my head and made her drink water. I’m guessing she feels it too.

Right now, probably, tingling between her legs.

Only there’s something going on. That whole hermit thing and the way her father handled her arranged marriage.

A fucking surprise on her birthday.

I should’ve strangled that piece of garbage back in the chapel.

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