Page 94 of Jake's Angel

I bite my lip, holding my smile back. I can feel my cheeks beginning to flush.

“Yeah, don’t think I didn’t notice you attacked me to keep from being seen by those girls.

Then just when things started getting good, you bailed on me.”

My jaw drops. Trying to regain some composure, I try to explain.

“I-I-I didn’t want to stop kissing you, but you understand now why I had to go.” I try for the easy out, but he’s only focused on the part about not wanting to stop. I can read it all over his face. He’s proud of himself. He left an impression.

“Didn’t want to stop, huh?” He rubs his nose along my cheek. I turn my head, exposing my neck to him. He continues the slow, soothing stroke, accepting my invitation.

Sweet baby Jesus. I’m pinned under the devil and I’m liking it far more than I should.

Without thinking, I blurt out, “Of course I didn’t. It’s not every day a girl gets her first kiss.”

He pulls back, sitting above me. The scowl on his face was not the reaction I was expecting, but it’s enough to make me wish I could take the words back.

“Thatwas your first kiss?” He pulls back further but doesn’t release me. Instead, he laughs. He freakinglaughs!

“This is funny to you.” It’s not a question. Feeling more unsure of myself than ever and so unbelievably embarrassed, Ipush with my knees trying to move around, to loosen up some part of my body from his grip but am stopped by two very large hands pulling me back to my original spot pinned between him and the couch.

“I’m sorry. I’m not laughingatyou.” He takes a breath, calming himself. “Ok, I am laughing at you, but not because of the reasons you’re thinking.” I roll my eyes and try to move away again, but he’s decided it’s not happening.

“Avery, look at me.” I glare at him, hoping my anger will overshadow the hurt and the tears I’m trying desperately to hold back.

Changing the subject, I spill the truth about the tattoo shop. “I went into the tattoo shop because I wanted to see if the scars could be covered up. Jesper said he thought they could, but he needed me to show them to him so he could see if they’ve healed enough. I’ve never shown my scars to anyone except Sadie. I was too ashamed, too afraid to let him see me.” I shrug my shoulders in an attempt to act as if it’s nothing really, but the glare he has fixed on me lets me know he doesn’t find this to benothingat all. I don’t know what he’s thinking. But he is definitely not laughing at me anymore.

“I settled for a belly piercing instead.”

I thought talking tattoos with a tattoo artist was normal, but I guess we both know this conversation is anything but normal. He’s still straddling my hips, holding my wrists. His bare chest pressing into me. His thick legs pinning my body in place where his T-shirt has ridden up my thighs from thrashing around under his assault.

My brain is telling me to get out of this situation, quick, fast and in a hurry. While my traitorous body is melting under the strength and power of his hold. His penetrating stare is holding me captive.

We’re both frustrated with each other, but there’s something else between us I can’t quite explain. The longer his eyes bore into mine, the stronger this pull becomes.

“Does anyone else know you went to see Jesper at the shop?” Just like that, the spell is broken.

I shrug, not making eye contact anymore, turning my head toward the back of the couch. His hand guides my face back to his, but I keep my eyes downcast on his abs.

Ugh. This is not fair.

“How did you keep these marks hidden if you were doing pageants and shit?” I take a chance and glance back up at him. He wins the staring contest between us when I close my eyes.

Shit!

He must realize that I’m not about to tell him anymore about them because he makes a quick change from the subject, but still he doesn’t let me up.

“What were you looking to cover them up with?” he asks, watching me carefully as I lay completely at his mercy. I’m trying desperately not to picture this conversation going in a completely different direction.

Jake’s shirtless, laid out on top of me, chest to chest. My wrists are still pinned in his right hand while his left draws small circles on my bare hip. He’s so close to my face I can smell his coffee, which I’m now certain had some of the frilly creamer shit he joked about being Jayde’s.

Something flashes in his eyes. He lets go of my hands, sitting himself up. I’m immediately struck by the lack of warmth from his body.

He backs himself up to the other side of the couch as I sit up, sliding back away from his reach, fidgeting with the hem of the shirt I’m wearing.

When he first gave it to me to wear last night, it was a comfort to be wrapped in the softness and smell of him. I was so nervouswhen he removed it to see the scars permanently burned into my skin. I’ve never let a man undress me before. Not on purpose. Pageant workers don’t count. Most of them were either sweet gay guys or creepy men as old as Gramps.

Still not making eye contact with him, I answer his question. “I was thinking daisies or maybe sun flowers. Something that has a concentrated center so the burns could be easily hidden in the center and the scars in the leaves. Both flowers have vibrant colors and are beautiful when they’re in full bloom. I thought something pretty like that would hide the ugliness of the past.” He watches me for a minute, then picks up his drawing pad off the floor and places it on the table.

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