Page 53 of Beautiful Defiance

“Fuck the scars. Any imperfection on you is a turn on, Beautiful Defiance.”

“I’m beautiful?” No one’s said that about me.

“Like a siren luring me to my watery grave.”

I laugh. “Romantic, big guy.”

“I’m not. Remember, I’m the predator, you’re the prey. I want to toy with you, ravish you, eat you up.”

His stare is intense and his words hot, searing my flesh. The nervousness returns. I’m in over my head. Messing with a boy I shouldn’t mess with. He’ll use me up, every last ounce of my emotions, then toss me aside when he’s done toying and ravishing me.

“What are we getting ourselves into, Seven?”

“Don’t think too hard on it, Defiance. But if it doesn’t feel right, tell me to go the fuck away, and I will. I won’t stop by in the middle of the night again.”

“That’s the thing. It feels completely right. I like having you here with me.”

“Then what are you waiting for? I’d love to see your imperfections, beautiful.”

Turned inside out by the heat in his voice and his earnestness, I grab my camisole by the hem and tug it over my head. Sharp intake of breath from Seven. Self-conscious, I cross my arms over my small breasts.

“Take your arms away, Leigh.”

The heat in his voice intensifies. As does the intensity in his gaze, the soft glow from the outside lights around the guesthouse shining in through the part in the curtains.

Is that the reason I left the lights on instead of turning them off like normal? I had a feeling Seven would sneak into my room?

He sits up and yanks off his shirt. My gaze roves over his wide shoulders, the sprinkle of dark chest hair across his pecs, the ridges of his six-pack abs, and the strip of hair disappearing inside his jeans. My attention hangs and lingers on the outline of his erection. Thick, long. I swallow down my nervousness.

If he thinks I’m beautiful, I’d say he’s stunning, and I tell him so.

“A guy is stunning, eh?” He lunges forward, slides his hands under my arms, and gets me on top of him.

His chest hair brushes my breasts. My nipples pebble. Seven pulls the covers over us. His hands go low, and his fingers trace the lines etched into my skin.

“Whoever did this better be doing hard time. My dad’s got connections to the underworld. One word from me and he’ll send men after the fucker.”

I weave my fingers into his chest hair and puff out a breath. “It wasn’t one guy but a group of them. They held me down and did things to me.”

“If you’re speaking of rape, they’re dead men.”

“They didn’t. Two officers on patrol stopped them before they could get to that point.”

“What’d they beat you with?”

“An electrical cord.”

“These scars are the reason you didn’t want the nurses stripping you of your top.”

“Yes,” I admit.

“And your panties? What scars are you hiding, beautiful?”

“Seven, please, don’t ask to see them.”

“I’m not asking and never will you beg again. Take them the fuck off, Leigh. I want a good reason to send men after those bastards.”

I slide off him, get on my back, and remove my pajama bottoms and underwear. Seconds tick by. The bed on Seven’s side dips. He tosses the covers off, and going low, he cups my hips and drops kisses on the words carved into my skin by guys who saw me as nothing but a pain in their asses when I demanded they stop selling drugs and alcohol to the kids on my block.

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