Page 22 of Scornful

She gestures vaguely at herself. "I'm not exactly the type of woman you usually see club guys with. I'm not?—"

"Perfect?" I interrupt, anger flaring at whoever put these thoughts in her head. "Because that's what I see when I look at you, Astrid. Fucking perfection."

The blush that spreads across her cheeks is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, matched only by the shy smile that follows it.

A knock at the door shatters the moment.

"Astrid?" Charm’s voice comes through the wood. "Your next client is here early. How much longer will you be?"

Astrid jumps back from me like she's been burned, her eyes wide with panic. "Just finishing up!" she calls, her voice impressively steady. "Five minutes!"

"No rush," Charm responds, and I swear I can hear the smile in her voice. "I'll let them know you're running a bit behind."

Footsteps retreat from the door, and Astrid covers her face with her hands. "Oh my God," she whispers. "Mom almost…goodness gracious."

I can't help the chuckle that escapes me, earning a glare from between her fingers. "It's not funny," she hisses. "If this gets back to my dad?—"

"It won't," I say, reaching for my shirt and pulling it over my head, then slide on my cut. "Your mom didn’t see anything. There’s nothing to tell."

Astrid doesn't look convinced, but she drops her hands, straightening her uniform and trying to regain her professional composure.

It's adorable, watching her try to pretend nothing happened when her lips are still swollen from my kiss, her cheeks flushed with desire.

"This can't happen again," she says, but I don’t believe a word she’s saying.

I stand, towering over her small frame, and resist the urge to pull her back into my arms. "Tell me that when you don't have another client waiting," I say, my voice low. "Tell me that when we're not at your workplace. Tell me that when you've had time to think about what youreallywant, not what your family expects."

She stares up at me. "It's not that simple."

"Nothing worth having ever is," I counter, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of golden-brown hair behind her ear. The simple touch makes her shiver. "But I thinkthis—whatever this is between us—might be worth the risk."

Another knock at the door, more insistent this time.

"I have to go," she says, but doesn't move.

"I know." I step back, giving her the space she needs. "But we're not finished, Astrid. Not even close."

She swallows hard, and for a moment I think she's going to argue.

Instead, she nods once. "How's your back?"

"Miraculously better," I say with a wink. "You've got magic hands."

The blush returns, and I file away the image for later, for the lonely hours when I'm lying in bed thinking about what could have been today if we hadn't been interrupted.

I follow her to the door, pausing with my hand on the knob.

"One more thing," I say, turning to face her. "Your ex was wrong about you. About your body, about everything. You're fuckin’ perfect exactly as you are, Astrid. Don't let anyone tell you differently."

The surprise that crosses her face, followed by a flash of vulnerability that breaks my heart, tells me she needed to hear someone say this to her.

Someone—Laken—made her feel less than, made her doubt herself.

The urge to find him and finish what I started in that parking lot rushes through me.

But that's not what she needs from me right now.

"I'll see you around, princess," I say, using the nickname that only I seem to call her.

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