Page 122 of Ugly Beautiful Scars

"Saranghae," he says into my neck.

The words unravel me. I lose myself, and it's like the first time and the last time and every time that will come between. As I'm crying out in pleasure, he loses himself too.

We're lost together, shaking and gasping and not wanting this moment to end.

When it does, he holds me safe in his arms, safe and cocooned like he'll never let go.

I believe him.

Chapter 38

LONDYN

I LOVE WATCHING SEAN MOVE around in the kitchen.

Maybe it's how confidently he flips pancakes. Or the way morning light gives a gentle glow to his skin. Or it could just be the fact that he's shirtless. I love watching the planes of his back flex and ripple, and his gray sweatpants are riding low enough to make my mouth go dry.

I curl deeper into the hotel couch, cradling a mug of green tea. As I take a sip, I'm wondering how this became my life. Not staying at a hotel, just this wonderful feeling that's a constant hum beneath every heartbeat. Only a few months ago, I was pure anxiety trapped in a body, consumed in buried-alive panic, yet now I'm calm and enjoying a peaceful morning. Having a hot bodyguard with me certainly helps.

It's been five days since the kidnapping. I've been sleeping a lot and healing and waking up to Sean's arms around me. Mike has been staying at my apartment building, monitoring the security feeds for any signs of The Director or the men in baseball caps. No signs yet.

I took medical leave from work since I don't yet know if or when I'll return. After what happened with Josh I'm not sure I can ever go back. The thought of sitting in that office, at that desk, wondering if one of my other coworkers is plotting to help The Director kidnap me… yeah, I think that job is done unless I can work at home permanently.

But figuring that out is next week's problem.

Today, my head feels better finally and I just want to focus on the present. The bruises The Director left have faded to a sickly yellow-green, and the pain has dulled to a background hum I can almost ignore. I know we can't live in this blissful bubble forever since a walking nightmare is still out there, but I can at least have a few days of feeling safe in this hotel while a handsome man dotes on me.

Sean glances over his shoulder, catching me staring. That half-smirk appears—the one that makes my insides feel like they're melting.

"How do you like your eggs?" he asks.

I hide my blush behind my mug. "Umm, cooked?"

"How cooked?"

"Very."

His laugh is low and warm as he turns back to the small burner on the kitchenette counter, flipping another pancake with that calm elegance.

While I've been trying not to think too much about The Director and his 'colleague'—neither of them deserve a moment of my time—Sean and Mike have been digging. They reported everything to the police, yet there's no evidence Alan was involved; the security footage from my work only shows Josh leading me out. And the SUV was a rental under Josh's name. There's a warrant out for his arrest and my boss called to tell me he's been fired. I mean, that's great, but he hasn't been arrestedyetbecause they can't find him.

I wish we knew where The Director was so I could at least go back to my apartment and gather some things.

The smell of chocolate and butter drifts through the air as Sean plates the pancakes. He's humming something under his breath that makes me smile. I've discovered that Sean is actually a good cook, at least where breakfast is concerned. The man can work magic with eggs and pancake batter.

"Ready?" he asks, carrying two plates to the coffee table.

My stomach growls in response and I grin. "Definitely."

He sets the plates down, which are filled with chocolate chip pancakes drizzled with fruity syrup. There are also eggs cooked just as I requested. Breakfast is such a small thing, but it's also everything. It's filled with love and care and no expectations except just eating together.

Sean settles beside me on the couch. I shift so our thighs touch, because I always seem to need some part of us touching. He stabs a piece of pancake with his fork and lifts it to my mouth first. A taste test.

"Tell me if I got it right," he says.

The pancake melts on my tongue. It's sweet, buttery, and with bursts of chocolate that make me close my eyes. "Mmm. You always do."

"Good," he says, leaning in to kiss my cheek before digging into his own breakfast.

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