Page 30 of Dare
“Thehell I am.” He tweaks my nipple. “They’re perfect. But if you must know, I’m aleg man, and your legs are gorgeous.”
I’mfacing him with my head on his chest and he pulls my leg over his hip,caressing it. Years of dancing have given me lean, solid thighs and sculpted calves.It’s one part of my body I’m not self-conscious about. His hand wanders up overmy stomach and across the scars on my ribs, making me tense up. I was toodistracted by what he was making me feel last night to worry about it, but nowI’m lying naked in a pool of sunlight, exposing every marred inch.
“Relax,darlin’.” Rolling onto his side, and propping his head on his hand, hecontinues to caress and stroke my skin, his fingers trailing lightly over thescars on my arm and shoulder. Sympathetic eyes meet mine and I have to swallowthe lump in my throat. No one has ever touched me like this, with reverenceinstead of disgust or morbid curiosity.
“Willyou tell me what happened?” he asks softly.
Againstmy better judgement, I find myself explaining. “They’re chemical burns. When Iwas eighteen, I got a dancing scholarship that one of the other studentswanted. She and her boyfriend tried to find a way to sabotage me and they did.He waited for me after class. I was always the last one to leave the studio andI usually parked in the alley out back. I didn’t see it coming, didn’t evenknow who threw it on me until later when the cops saw the video. There was asecurity camera that picked up the whole thing.”
Hetries to keep his voice soft, but I can hear the anger in it when he asks, “Isthe asshole still locked up?”
Sittingup, I grab my shirt and pull it on. “He never went to jail. He’s a senator’sson. He got probation.”
“You’refucking kidding me.” His expression is fierce. “What about the girl?”
“Shegot the scholarship and dances for a company in Chicago last I heard.” I trynot to sound bitter, but it’s hard. After all they took away from me, they gotwhat they wanted, their happy ending, while I’ll spend the rest of my lifescarred and probably alone.
“What’shis name?” Dare demands.
“What?”I get out of bed and slide on a pair of panties.
“Thesenator’s son. What’s his name?” He’s sitting up in my bed, the sheet coveringhis waist, looking like he could tear someone in two.
“Itdoesn’t matter,” I sigh. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay?”
Hegets to his feet and stalks over to me, stark naked. “Tell me who he is, Ayda.I’ll fucking kill him.”
Ibelieve him, too. Maybe I should be scared of the barely restrained violence Isee in his eyes, but he’s pissed on my behalf, because someone hurt me.Approaching him slowly, I press my forehead to his wide chest. “I don’t want totalk about him.”
Witha sigh, I feel him relax a little, and his hand cups the back of my head,stroking my hair. He slides a finger under my chin, tilting my head until I’mlooking him in those blue eyes. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you. I protectwhat’s mine.”
“I’myours?” I whisper.
“Mine,”he replies, placing a firm kiss on my lips. The ring of his phone breaks themoment.
“Answeryour phone.” I grin up at him. “I’m going to grab that pie out of the fridgefor breakfast.”
Smiling,he smacks my ass before scooping his phone out of his jeans.
He’ssitting in my bed wearing only his jeans, and leaning back against the wallwhen I return with the apple pie and two forks. It’s exactly how I pictured himon his own bed so many nights while we talked through the wall.
Isit cross legged beside him and we dig into the pie, laughing and talking untilhe gets a text message that makes him frown. After he replies to it, he sighsand reaches for his shirt. “I have to go.”
“Iseverything okay?”
“Yeah.I owe a friend of mine a favor and he needs me to work for him the next fewdays.”
“OnThanksgiving weekend? That sucks.” I pull on a pair of shorts. “Maybe we couldmeet for dinner tomorrow night?”
“Thejob is in Ohio. I should be back by Monday afternoon.” He gives me a heartstopping smile. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Sure.”A quick kiss lands on my lips and he’s out the door. I’m full of questions, butI didn’t want to be too demanding or clingy. He doesn’t owe me anyexplanations.
Grabbingsome clean clothes, I head for the shower where I spend the next few minutesdwelling on what just happened. What kind of work is he doing for his friend?He works in internet security, so I assume it’s related, but why would thattake him to Ohio over a holiday weekend?
Mytypical self-doubt creeps in. Maybe it was just an out. An excuse to get awaynow that he got what he wanted. He certainly wouldn’t be the first not to wantit again. Then I remember the way he looked at me and touched me, without anounce of disgust or pity, only heat and lust in his eyes.
I’mdoing what I always do, overthinking and assuming the worst. He had to work,and I’ll see him in a few days. It’s no big deal.
