Page 108 of Broken Pieces
“I’ve always been a burden. That’s what people saw when they looked at me. A problem to be dealt with. Something they were desperate to shake off.”
His jaw clenches. For a second, I think he’s gonna leave it. But he leans forward.
“You’re strong, Skylar,” he says.
I shake my head, the words landing heavy. “I don’t feel strong.”
His hand moves before I can even think.
He reaches across the space between us and brushes his thumb over the scar above my brow.
The touch is soft, gentle. The pad of his thumb catches against the raised skin, and it wakes up something buried under layers of hurt.
It shouldn’t matter.
It’s just a touch.
But fuck, it matters.
His eyes stay locked on mine. “You don’t get a scar like this from being weak,” he says. “That shit stays because you fucking survived it. That scar says you kept breathing when she wanted to break you.”
I can’t find my voice.
My chest is tight. That memory, the one I shove down every time it gets too close, it’s hovering just under my skin now.
“You really think that’s what it means?”
His hand doesn’t leave me. If anything, it settles firmer against my skin, trailing down to the edge of my jaw.
Heat flares beneath it. My entire body goes still, caught in that place between wanting to move closer and not knowing how.
His eyes never waver. “I know it is. You survived her, Skylar. That’s the whole fucking point. You lived through it. You didn’t let her finish you.”
The world quiets.
It’s just the two of us, suspended in something that is too big to name.
His fingers drag along the curve of my jaw, as if he’s memorizing every line of me.
My breath stutters again. This time, it has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with him. With the way he looks at me like I matter. That I’m not broken in the ways I thought I was.
He leans in. The look in his eyes says he’s already made up his mind.
He’s going to kiss me. And I’m going to let him.
I feel his mouth getting closer to mine, his breath catching the edge of my lips.
And I let him come the rest of the way.
His mouth brushes mine.
A tease at first, barely there. But it lights a fuse under my skin and makes every nerve stand at attention.
I go still, breath caught in my throat, my heart hammering. The taste of him sinks into me before I realise I’ve closed the distance. His hand fists in my hair, dragging a gasp out of me as his lips slam into mine, all heat and fury and want.
He doesn’t kiss soft or sweet.
He kisses like he’s starving and I’m the only thing that’s ever satisfied him.
