Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“Like what you see?”
Oh fuck!
He just caught me looking at his junk!
Play it cool, Lil.
Shrugging nonchalantly, I ignore my burning cheeks and reply, “Not really. I thought you’d be more- more- I don’t know. More impressive.”
The ass smiles. A huge-ass smile from a huge ass.
Dear God! It reminds me of Heath Ledger’s smile a la ‘10 Things I Hate About You’.
I love that freakin’ smile. And the ass wears it well.
My heart skips a beat, but I remain cool as a cucumber and question, “I thought you types were all tattooed and stuff.”
Wiping down his broad chest with the small towel, he responds, “I’ve got tattoos, Lily. Just not ones you’re used to seeing.”
My eyes widen in interest. I love tattoos, and if Nox is sporting something I haven’t seen before then, naturally, I want to see it. I ask quietly, “Can I see them?”
Nox’s face turns passive, almost thoughtful, before he lowers the waistline to his underwear slightly.
Without meaning to, I gasp aloud and cover my mouth with both hands.
Unbelievable.
Stepping forward slowly, I reach out with a shaking hand to touch the skin there. Just before I reach him, I rear back realizing what I was just about to do. As I lower my face and try to turn away, Nox takes my hand and presses it to the puckered and mutilated flesh just under his waistline. It feels surprisingly soft under my fingertips.
Given permission, I trace the scars with my fingertips. His stomach clenches and contracts. I’m not sure if this is in discomfort or pain, so I pull my fingers away from the gouged and puffed scar tissue that trails from one hip to the other.
Suddenly tattoos don’t appeal to me anymore.
There are no words. I’m speechless.
Looking up at Nox, mouth parted, I search his face. As our eyes meet, he frowns, lifts his hand and uses his thumb to wipe away the tears I hadn’t realized I’d shed.
My heart aches.
He’s a dick. A huge dick. But I wouldn’t wish this on anybody. I want to say something but the words just don’t come. What can you possibly say to someone who has been tortured?
Chapter Nine
Ch- ch- changes
Lily
A few hours after our close encounter, we remain silent, communicating with nothing but nods or one word questions and equally short answers. The waitress from the diner brought up our sandwich platter, along with a complimentary cherry pie for us newlyweds, while I was in the shower. We ate slowly, avoiding each other’s gaze.
Unable to stand the awkwardness any longer, I jump up and turn on the old-ass TV. Nothing but static. I mentally sigh. Of course there’s nothing but static. No one accused me of being lucky. Luck of the Irish, you ask? Nope. Not even that.
Flipping through channels, I stop on the channel with the least amount of static and manually try to tune it. A few minutes pass but nothing helps, so I do what I do whenever something at home is broken.
I beat the crap out of it.
Slapping the sides of the TV, I urge, “C’mon, you piece of shit. Modern technology, my ass!”
Nox chuckles and I say sternly, “You know, you can help me at any time. Don’t be shy now.”
Then I smack the back of the TV. A little too hard.
It falls off the stand and onto the floor. A loud bang resounds through the room. Looking down in shock at the now broken TV, I lift my wide eyes to Nox and shout, “Look at what you did!”
Then he does something beautiful.
He tips his head back and roars with laughter.
And all I can do is watch in awe as his entire body shakes with hilarity while thoughts rush through my brain.
How can a man who has been through what he has, still be able to laugh? Maybe Nox isn’t as damaged as I think he is. I’m an ass. I shouldn’t have labelled him. Ask him about it.
Walking over to the bed, I throw myself back onto it, next to his still shaking body. Placing my arms behind my head, I sigh long and loud, “I’m so bored.”
Nox nods but doesn’t say a thing.
We lay next to each other as night falls, neither of is willing to move, quite comfortable in our finally broken silence. Feeling more confident, I ask, “What happened?”
Obviously knowing this was coming, he breathes in deeply and replies on an exhale, “Got caught by the bad guy.”
This explanation is not satisfactory. I’m nosey! I need more than that. “When?”
“Few years back.”
I’m confused. Turning my body to look at him, I say quietly, “But I thought you were the best.”
Turning his head to the side, his icy blues search my face before answering just as softly, “It’s why I’m the best. I’ll never let that happen again.”
Okay. I like that. That’s a totally acceptable answer.