Page 26 of Stripped

It was his turn to ask a question. His finger traced the primrose tattoo down her back. "I wouldn't think a dancer could have a tattoo so visible."

"It's not forbidden. I have to cover it when I perform, which can be difficult, but when I got it, I wasn't really thinking of those things. I wasn't going to dance again."

"Behind every beautiful thing, there's some kind of pain. Words to live by."

"For people like us," she said.

He took her hand. "What do you mean, for people like us?"

"People who live with guilt and regrets. People who know what it feels like to hurt. We feel guilty about all the little things because we don't want to face the big ones."

"I've killed men. They died in my care because of my decisions. What's your big one?"

She pulled her hand from his, tucking it under her cheek, missing the warmth it offered almost immediately. "I think my grandfather bought me my position in the company. SNB needed money and he was one of their biggest benefactors."

He tucked a piece of hair that came loose from her bun behind her ear, his touch delicate. "Confessions of the broken," he said and gave her a delusive smile. "Why the primrose, other than it being your name?"

"My father chose my name. Scottish primrose grows in the north, by the coast. It has five heart-shaped petals. I like to think they stand for hope, grace, faith, truth and love."

He laughed outright at this. "Yer aff yer heid," he said in broad Scots. "Bloody bullshite."

She smiled. "Fuck off."

"Now, that's my girl." He kissed her quickly on the lips. "Get some rest, Primrose. You're safe tonight."

She closed her eyes but knew sleep would elude her. That's my girl. No one had ever said those words to her, especially not a handsome man she had just slept with.

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