Page 88 of Anger

Each of these marks—these scars—are a narrative telling Damon’s story. It’s as if you can read his life in the patterns of the small white lines that run beneath the bruises.

What cycle does he repeat constantly that I’m becoming a part of?

Will his damage become mine as well?

“Who did this to you?”

My fingers run over another bruise above his eyebrow.

He sighs, the heat between us still stifling even while I risk destroying it with the distraction of my question.

Releasing my hips, Damon runs his hands down my legs, removing one of my shoes when he answers, “I got in a fight with my brother.”

There’s a brief pause in his response as he peels off my other shoe. He laughs softly. “In this kitchen, actually.”

Taking a moment to look around, I notice the broken cabinet doors. “And here I thought this was just some new fancy schmancy trend. The urban poor look or whatever they want to call it.”

Another laugh as he looks up at me and runs his hands back up my legs. Tingles trace up my spine and my skin feels tight across my chest.

“How do you do that?”

Damon’s amber gaze finds mine, the skin wrinkled at the sides of his eyes from his smile.

He’s charming when he smiles.

I bet when he’s in a good mood, he’s a riot to be around. Somebody you can kick back with and joke back-and-forth, your face and belly hurting after laughing so much.

“You’ll need to help me out there, Champ. What do I do?”

His fingers squeeze my thighs then roam up to a dangerous place. Shivers course through me and I fight to keep him from seeing it.

The smirk that pulls at the corner of his mouth tells me he is reading me as easily as I read him.

“You make me laugh, even when the memories…”

His voice trails off and he shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

It does matter.

I want to know about those memories.

All the intimate details.

I can see the shadow of them, the outlines—the scars they left behind—but the core of his story is hidden from view.

Leaning in, he presses his mouth to my ear, and I melt against him.

“You still ready to see the other neat tricks I have?”

No.

I’ll never be ready.

But my body is betraying me and practically begging for more.

Damon trails his fingers up my spine and a small squeal escapes my lips. Just from the simple touch, I’m already losing myself to him.

He turns his head, and the corners of our mouths meet.

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