Page 51 of Unraveling with You

As he scoops one hand behind my head, drawing me in for a sultry kiss, I assume the answer is yes. I grip his forearms hard. They ripple beneath my palms, lifting his hands to softly stroke the heavy underside of my breasts.

I shudder hard enough to break our kiss, open-mouthed as he shifts to stroking over my nipples.

“You didn’t think you were absolutely stunning, baby girl?”

An avalanche of heat crashes through my core, flexing my pussy as Remington resorts to tender, all-encompassing massages over my breasts and nipples. All I can do is moan, my hips shifting on the bed. I didn’t know I could get this turned on by someone playing with my breasts, but I’m absolutely weak from it, my back arching and thighs quivering.

“Can I see your back?” He asks. “Not if you’re not ready. But so that you know from now on, I won’t judge it.”

My heart flips, but I grip his palm flat against my chest, craving a deeper squeeze. He gives it to me, and my eyelids flutter. “Y-yes, but– But it’s definitely not cute. Please, just don’t say anything.”

“Okay. But I’m confused what you mean by a mark. Is it a birthmark, or–?”

Remington pauses when he peeks over my shoulder, witnessing my bare back in the morning sun. He says nothing more. My heart drops through the mattress. This silence is worse than I imagined, and not what I had in mind when I told him not to say anything.

CHAPTER 11

WHEN I FEEL A DELICATEtickle over my mark, I jump at how sharp and intense it feels.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, gorgeous. I was about to pet your back to reassure you, but I didn’t want to hurt you, in case–” Remington swallows hard.

In case it still hurts, he must be thinking. I shut my eyes, gripping his hand on my chest tighter. He realizes why I’m so vague about my mark, doesn’t he?

“Y-you’re probably wondering what happened.” My whisper shakes.

Remington sits back on his knees in front of me, cupping my cheek. “You don’t have to tell me anything. Just let me know if it’s sensitive in a bad way, especially without clothes on.”

I drop my head, clinging to his arms. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s just– I don’t want to lie to you like I do with everyone else. It’s not a birthmark like people assume when I say it’s a mark.”

Remington is silent for a good ten seconds. “I know, baby. It’s a scar, yeah?”

“My dad threw boiling water on me.” My whisper comes out hot, scraping my chest on its way up. Remington holds perfectly still, unspeaking. I’m too afraid to check his expression.

“How old were you?” He mutters.

“Eleven. He didn’t like that I told him he was making spaghetti wrong since they don’t snap noodles in half in Italy,” I huff out a shaky laugh. “He made me promise to convince my mom it was an accident. The hospital too. I was in the burn unit for a while.”

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