Part 10 (1/2)

She felt the dull rush of blood creeping up her cheeks as he watched her. Chaili wasn't ashamed of what she liked. Not now. She had been, for a while. But after the h.e.l.l she'd gone through with the diagnosis, the surgery, the treatment, all the while dealing with a divorce...she knew who she was.

But it was unsettling, to say the least, to discuss something like this.

”Oh, come on,” she said, shooting for a smart-a.s.s smile. ”You heard him. I've got a thing for being hit. You probably noticed I get off on being bossed around too. He has a thing for spanking and giving orders. We were a decent match.”

As he lifted a hand, traced it down her shoulder, down her arm until he could catch her wrist, he said gruffly, ”A thing for being hit. Chaili...there's a difference between what you want and being hit.” He braceleted her wrist, drew it behind her back. Repeated it on the other side. Securing both of her wrists in one hand, he used his hold on her to tug her back, bowing her spine as he bent forward and pressed his lips to the center of the tattoo, where the wings flared out from the ribbon. ”If he thinks 'being hit' is giving you what you need, then he's a clueless d.i.c.k. You settled, baby girl, and you settled awful d.a.m.n low.”

Her breath hitched in her throat as she stared at his bent head. His lips feathered over the delicate lines and swirls of the tattoo, the flare of the wings. Heat flooded her, rising from her chest, spreading up over her neck to suffuse her face.

I shouldn't do this, shouldn't be sitting here with him... Blood pulsed inside her veins, a hot, teasing sensation that was far more erotic that she could recall experiencing before.

When he s.h.i.+fted his attention to the scars, though, she tried to twist away.

His free arm caught her, pinned her in place.

”Just how did he make you feel? Did he make you happy?” he whispered before he used his tongue to trace the line of one neat, pale scar.

”We gave each other what we needed,” she said, trying for casual but failing. Her voice skipped, caught.

”No. You scratched an itch,” Marc said, moving to the other scar. ”I'll give you what you need. What you want... Things you probably don't let yourself think about.”

”Hmmm. Arrogant, much?” She blinked her eyes. d.a.m.n it, she wasn't suddenly seeing him through a veil of tears. That wasn't happening. And he wasn't right. She'd been okay with Tim. She'd been happy. For a while, at least.

Swallowing around the knot swelling in her throat, she jeered at him as he reached up and stroked his thumb along one of her scars, tracing to where it ran under her arm before it ended. ”What's up, Marc? You want a freaky f.u.c.k for your memory book?”

”It's not going to work, Chaili. You're trying to push me away. I'm not going anywhere.” From under his lashes, he continued to stroke the scar, as though he was learning it by touch. ”This doesn't faze me. Doesn't bother me.”

”That's why you can't stop staring,” she said sourly. ”Why you can't seem to stop petting the d.a.m.n things. You got a scar fetish?”

”I can't stop staring at you. Don't want to stop touching. And I just might have a fetish, but it's not about the d.a.m.n scars.” He used his hold on her wrists to bring her closer, sinking his teeth into her lower lip until she gasped.

Then she shuddered as he licked the small hurt and sucked it into his mouth. ”You're expecting me to stare,” he said, his voice flat and unyielding. ”That's why you did this... You wanted me to stare, wanted to shock the h.e.l.l out of me and make me freak and run.”

Abruptly, he let go of her wrists and caught her head between his hands, slanted his mouth over hers. Against her lips, he rasped, ”I'm not running...got that?”

When he kissed her, she opened for him, unable to do anything else.

When he stood, supporting her weight with his own, she wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him.

And when he lifted his head, long moments later, she tried to pull him back to her. If he would just never, ever stop kissing her, maybe she wouldn't have to think. Maybe she wouldn't have to worry and maybe she wouldn't have to think about how d.a.m.ned scared she was. About how screwed up she still was...after all this time.

She'd thought she'd dealt with what Tim had done, but d.a.m.n it, she hadn't.

Large hands stroked down her back, cupped her a.s.s, squeezing through the denim. ”You're not going to hide this time, Chaili,” he said quietly. ”Not again. Not ever.”

There were tears in her eyes, and it hurt his heart to see them. Tears that made her eyes gleam even as she tried to hide them, dipping her head so he wouldn't see. But he wasn't letting her hide anything.

Cupping her chin in his hand, he kissed one eye, then the other, before reaching behind him and unhooking her ankles. ”No more hiding,” he murmured against her lips.

”And what about you?” she whispered, her hands resting on his waist, kneading the flesh just above his hips restlessly. ”You've been hiding a h.e.l.l of a lot too.”

”No hiding. Not either of us.” He just hoped he didn't f.u.c.k it up all to h.e.l.l. ”Go to your room. Get naked. But I don't want you getting under covers.”

Her lashes dipped. ”Be careful how far you push me, Marc. I can only do so much,” she warned him quietly.

He had a feeling she could handle more than she realized, but they'd figure out boundaries and s.h.i.+t later. The only thing he wanted her to do was stop hiding from him. Shy. She was about as shy as he was. She'd just wanted to keep him from seeing the scars. Part of him could understand why, but she'd shown him and there was no point in trying to close that door now.

After she'd disappeared around the corner that led to her bedroom, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the picture, the ticket stub. There had been only one of the two of them. The others had all had Shera, Chaili and him. This one, though, it was just Chaili and him. She'd been laughing at him while he was making a face at her.

There had been a light in her eyes. One he realized he hadn't seen in a good long while.

Whether it had been the cancer that had taken the light away, or just how f.u.c.king hard life had been since then, he didn't know.

But he was going to put that light back in her eyes.

Slipping out of his jacket, he tossed it on the back of the couch, tucked the picture in the pocket. He kicked out of his shoes and socks and left them there as well. He left his s.h.i.+rt and jeans on, and on the way out of the room, he paused by a coat rack. Draped over one of the pegs was a knit scarf, it looked blue to him so it was likely some shade of green and he could see threads of silver twisting through it.

He took it down, rubbing the nubby weave between his fingers, twining it round and round his wrist.

It had been almost two minutes.

He killed another minute by stopping in her bathroom. It was neat as a pin, ruthlessly organized and showing no sign of anybody's presence but hers.

He checked the miniscule closet, the cabinet under the sink, all without finding what he needed.

She'd closed the door to her bedroom most of the way. Pus.h.i.+ng it open, he paused, his breath lodging in his throat as he saw her sitting on the edge of the bed, her legs crossed, hands folded neatly in her lap and a glint in her eyes as she stared at him.

The lights were off. Thick curtains, nearly the same shade as the scarf, blocked out the light. He hit the lights and watched as a minute flinch tightened her body before she relaxed. Chaili lowered her head and her shoulders rose and fell on a deep breath.

Without saying another word, he ambled over to the bed and dropped the scarf next to her, watching her tremble as she glanced at it. Turning away, he circled the room, eyeing the neat little desk, sans computer, sitting by the window.

He studied the neat stack of books, some with stickers from a used bookstore, others with the little tag that indicated they were from a library. Romance, urban fantasy... She'd always loved to read. And she'd h.o.a.rded her books too. There was also a huge, whopping stack of bills. He continued his trek around the room until he came to the nightstand by her bed. Crouching down next to it, he pulled open a drawer...bingo.

There were a couple vibrators there. Lubricant. He pulled out one of the vibrators-it was one that had an extra extension for the a.n.u.s. As he turned it on, he glanced back at Chaili. Her face was flushed but she continued to stare at him, that glint still in her eyes.

”You like a.n.a.l?”

”No. I just figured I'd sh.e.l.l out some cash for a vibrator like that for no reason,” she said, giving him a snotty little smile before lifting a hand and studying her nails.

”Smart a.s.s.”

”Hmmm.”

He turned it off and tossed it on the bed, along with the lubricant and then a silver bullet that he saw tucked in the corner.

”You have a pair of scissors handy?”

She glanced at the desk behind him. ”Over there.”

He found them, tucked in a neat little cup with a pens and pencils. He put the scissors on the bedside table but she didn't even glance at them, nor did she seem all that concerned about the scarf he held. He wrapped it around his hands, watched as her gaze flicked down to it, lingered and then she went back to studying her nails.