Page 54 of Beautiful Defiance

“You’re not a snitch. Or the C word. You’re beautiful. Every part of you.”

His hot breath whispers across my skin, touching a part of me I’ve never shown to a guy. After he showers kisses on my scars, he finds my underwear buried under the covers, tugs them on me, and then rests his head on my belly. His hair tickles my skin.

“Did your parents love one another, Leigh?”

“Very much.”

“Did they fight?”

“Like a rabid dog and a cat going through catnip withdrawal.”

His muffled laughter on my skin tickles even more, and I squirm beneath his mouth.

“Great analogy.”

“Thank you.” I sift my fingers into his hair. “Beats your helium balloon one.”

“No doubt.”

This time, I laugh.

“What’d they fight over?”

“Small things like who got the bigger slice of apple pie, both their favorite pie. Or who got the most meatballs in their pho. Usually my mom did. The owner of the restaurant that my father worked for loved my mother. My mother made the prettiest dresses for her granddaughters, and they all went off and married these wealthy businessmen. She said she owed their luck to my mom’s eye-catching, beautiful dresses.”

“They didn’t fight over crap like finding a woman in your father’s hotel room?” He untangles my fingers from his hair, gets out of bed, and puts his shirt back on. “Never mind. I should go.”

I prop myself on my elbows. “Stay. Please.”

“I said not to beg or ask for a favor unless you’re willing to work for it or am willing to give up something in return.”

He’s angry. Embarrassed, too, for showing me the vulnerable side of himself. A side that cares enough about his parents’ marriage to ask a girl he barely knows about her parents’.

I reach for my camisole and pull it over my head. To say my next piece, I need to not be vulnerable. Vulnerable is being half-naked.

“A kiss. I’ll give you a kiss if you’ll stay the night with me.”

“A kiss on the corner of our mouths won’t convince me.”

“A full-on-the-mouth kiss with tongue, Seven. That’s what I meant. Satisfied?” I glower, fully understanding he can see me.

Or, he hears the annoyance in my tone.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” He gets under the covers, and with his back resting against the headboard, he pats his lap. I straddle his thighs.

“Before we kiss, I want us to talk.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what two people who will never be just friends do.”

“Fine.” He tips his head back and bounces it off the headboard in this irksome tap, tap, tap.

I stop the irksome motion with my palms to the sides of his head, and tipping forward, I tell him of my mother’s deal with Tony. Seven then spills his parents’ argument before his mother left his father standing there looking after her with hurt on his face.

“What if your dad’s situation is like my mom’s? What if he was set up? What if someone is blackmailing him?”

“How would we know if he was?”

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