Page 94 of His To Erase
Like honestly—does he own a shirt? Or is “half-naked and emotionally unavailable” just part of the control-freak aesthetic?
The sharp planes of his back flex as he stirs something in a cast iron pan, like he didn’t just strip blood-soaked clothes off my body a few hours ago. And here I am—just standing in the doorway with a libido I can’t kill.
I know I should say something.
Or move.
Or blink.
But I just watch him like a creep. A very thirsty, very broken creep.
There’s a jagged scar just under his ribs—angry and uneven, whatever caused it didn’t leave quietly. There’s another one that rides his shoulder, it looks a little more faded but still just as deep.
I try to tell myself I don’t care and I definitely don’t want to ask.Except I kind of do.
“You’re supposed to be in the shower.”
His voice slices through the silence, making me jump, like he’s known I was there the whole time.
“Sorry to disappoint.”
He glances over his shoulder. And fuck.That face.That unreadable, detached calm he wears like armor—the kind of danger you crawl to instead of running from. My mind goes instantly to what it would feel like riding his face. Internally I groan, because I need to get my shit together.
“Sit down.”
He turns back to the stove.
“You need to eat before I bandage your shoulder.”
I don’t move. “You always make breakfast for the girls you undress?”
“Only the ones who bleed all over my floor.”
I don’t think he could have sounded more unbothered if he tried. I almost laugh.
The ache in my body’s worse now that the water’s gone. My legs feel like glass and pride is the only thing keeping me upright, right now.
“You didn’t even tell me your name.”
He flips something in the pan like I’m just background noise. “Didn’t know we were swapping life stories.”
This mother—Okay. Nope. Not letting him get to me. I fold my arms, ignoring the tug in my shoulder.
“Figured I should know what to scream if you turn out to be a serial killer.”
“You can scream whatever you want, sweetheart,” he deadpans. “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”
That earns him a glare.
“So… what? I keep calling you The Hot Tattoo Man forever?”
The second it’s out of my mouth, I want to hurl myself out a window.Oh my god.Kill me. Right now.Ughhh
His smirk spreads. “You can call me God if it helps you sleep.”
I roll my eyes so hard I might tear something.
“Jesus, you’re insufferable.”
