Beautiful Scars Part 10

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.

"Stand up," he told her.

She just sat there.

"Stand up," he growled.

Lowering her hand, she lifted her head and stared at him for a long second before slowly rising to her feet.

"I want a couple of things clear," he said quietly. "First...I think you're beautiful. You've always been beautiful, and nothing changes that." Laying his palm against her chest so that it covered one of the scars, he said, "This sure as h.e.l.l doesn't. Got it?"

Her only response was to blink, but he saw something glinting wet, diamond bright in her eyes.

"Second...I'm going to say s.h.i.+tty things, and do s.h.i.+tty things. You know that...are you going to hold it against me?"

Chaili curled her lip. "That depends...are you going to make the implication that I'm a wh.o.r.e again?"

"No." A sick feeling twisted in his gut. "And I'm d.a.m.ned sorry I made you feel that way, because I know you're not, and I don't think of you that way. Are we clear on that?"

"We're clear."

"I won't ever hurt you in a way you don't like during s.e.x, although we need to figure out the stopping limits. I'm talking about everything else. Like what happened last week. I'm d.a.m.ned good at putting my foot in my mouth and I'm d.a.m.ned good at s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up. Are you going to ignore me every time I'm an a.s.shole?"

He continued to keep his hand over her chest, stroking his thumb over the frail skin.

"If I did that, I'd never speak to you-never would have spoken to you after I met you when I was about twelve," she said, sniffing a little. "Next to playing the piano and singing, being an a.s.shole is one of your finer talents in life."

With a wry grin, he muttered, "You know me well."

Studying her face, he said, "We need to talk more later, but this isn't a one-time, or a two-time thing. If that's a problem, tell me now."

Chaili just continued to watch him.

He hoped she couldn't hear the excited little dance his heart was doing.

"About those limits, we'll talk about them more later. Although I kind of hate some of the stupid s.h.i.+t some people use with this stuff...I think it's a good idea to set guidelines and ground rules. For now, I just want a word you can use if I'm going too far or hurting you."

"I take it a.s.shole isn't a good one."

He jerked her against him and palmed her a.s.s. "Probably not. I have plans on f.u.c.king yours here shortly so that's probably not ideal."

Her eyes widened and her pupils spiked, flared. As a rosy flush settled on her cheeks, she touched her tongue to her lips. "Ah...taco," she blurted out.

"Taco?" he asked, amused, tracing the line between the cheeks of her a.s.s, watching her lashes drift down, listening to the way her breathing hitched.

"Yes."

"Gotcha. Taco, it is." He let her go and said, "Turn around and put your hands on the bed."

Chaili took her time doing so, but it wasn't so much to push his b.u.t.tons and see just how far he was going to go. It was because she couldn't get her d.a.m.n legs to work.

This was really happening. Her knees felt like b.u.t.ter and her heart was slamming against her ribs so hard she couldn't breathe. She'd almost come to grips with the fact that she'd had some seriously hot s.e.x with Marc, but he was a guy, right? Guys were into s.e.x and she'd been available, but this...

He stroked a hand down her spine, cupped her a.s.s.

This was more than s.e.x.

He'd seen her-her scarred, imperfect body-and he still wanted her.

He lifted his hand and brought it down on her a.s.s. Hard. The pleasure of it jolted through her side by side with the pain and she cried out, her fingers curling into the nubby fabric of her comforter, seeking out something to ground herself with.

He paused, waiting. She squeezed her eyes closed, desperate, ready for him to do it again. The only time Tim had ever done this- No. Don't think about him...

Marc spanked her again. She moaned as the delicious sensation rolled through her, spreading upward, outward.

Again. Again. On the fifth one, her knees buckled and if he hadn't caught her with his hands around her hips, she would have ended up on the floor.

He kept a hand on her hips, steadying her as he traced over the sensitive flesh of her b.u.t.t, the skin still stinging from his attention. "I like seeing your skin turn pink," he said, his voice still level but just a little more hoa.r.s.e than normal. A little more edgy and raw.

His voice was just another sensation, stroking over her like silk, rubbing against sensitive nerve endings, making her burn so very badly. "Get on the bed," he rasped.

She eased away and went to get on her hands and knees, but he stopped her. "On your back. I want to see you spread out under me."

Closing her eyes, she hunched her shoulders. Behind her, he waited, one hand on her hip. "No more hiding."

No hiding. She pulled away and turned, sat on the edge and scooted back. The busted box springs of the broken-down mattress made an awful sound but she ignored it, staring instead at his hands as he reached for the bottom of his s.h.i.+rt to drag it off.

Man, she loved his hands...

He put one knee on the edge of the bed. "Lie back for me."

Okay. She could do this...

He was looking at her face, anyway, right?

But then he reached for the vibrator. Oh, h.e.l.l.

Her breathing caught and she watched as a wicked little grin canted up the corner of his beautiful mouth. She just wanted to eat him sometimes, hold his face in her hands and kiss him until they were stupid with it and then work on down...

"What are you thinking?" he asked softly.

Catching her lip between her teeth, she studied him. Man, if he had been one of the few lovers she'd had before hooking up with Tim, she could have told him. Easily. Tim had never been one for wanting to know her thoughts, but the others...yeah. They'd been pretty good. Tim...well, he'd pushed all her kink b.u.t.tons, but he'd never wanted to talk with her.

If she hadn't been reeling emotionally and just looking for something, she never would have married him, she knew.

But it was harder to tell Marc.

Because Marc was the only man who'd ever managed to really matter.