Page 55 of Ugly Beautiful Scars

A tear finally slips down my cheek and his hand moves up, like he's about to wipe it away. I inhale sharply but… I think I'm okay if he does that. I'm okay if he touches me.

I want him to touch me.

He catches himself at the last second and moves his hand to the doorframe, gripping it a bit awkwardly. He tries to pretend he's checking its sturdiness before raising his book. "Shall we?"

I nod with an 'mmm' and step aside. He moves past me toward the couch while I close and lock the door.

I pause after the last deadbolt because I realize my heart is pounding into my ears. Something has changed. The air in this living room is denser and it settles on me like molasses, refusing to let me go.

I turn from the door and glance at my bodyguard. He's settled on my couch in a normal way, just a guy sitting there, flipping through his book and staring at my coffee table of candles. Waiting. If anyone else walked in, I imagine that's exactly what they'd see. Just a guy with blue hair. Lounging.

I'm trying to but I don't see that. Suddenly, there's nothing normal about him. The same jeans I've seen him wear dozens of times—jeans that used to just be practical clothing on a bodyguard doing his job—now cling to the large swell of his firm thigh muscles like they can't possibly contain all that power. His black t-shirt, which I'd barely noticed before when I was too busy avoiding his face, is suddenly fabric that highlights sculpted pecs and shoulders that have no business being so perfect. When he drapes one arm along the back of the couch, his bicep bulges against cotton in a way that's mesmerizing. And that sturdy neck that I'd glimpsed when he'd turn his head to scan environments now supports an angular jaw and high cheekbones that are just... magnificent.

Heat blooms across my skin like I've stepped too close to a bonfire. I'm struggling to resist this new and powerful pull that makes my body crave to be pressed against his.

You're not ready,my mind screams.

My libido isn't listening.

He glances up, our eyes connecting across the room, and I startle like I've been caught stealing. My body jerks backward in an involuntary flinch and I force my gaze to the floor.

His shoulders immediately roll forward, the casual confidence collapsing into the concern he's been carrying for days. "You okay? Am I still reminding you of… that man?"

"No! No, it's… just getting used to the hair. But it's cute. Spiky. But very cute. Brings out your eyes. Um…"

God, what am I saying?

I try to shift focus and hurry to the couch, dropping down beside him. I'm closer than I intended, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his defined, capable body.

He's so undeniably male. Not in the threatening way I've come to associate with masculinity, but something else entirely. Something that makes me want to lean in rather than run away.

"Sure everything is good?" Sean asks.

"Yup."

"Okay. Well, I'm glad." His voice drops to that gentle range that seems reserved just for me. The deeper valleys in his voice make my body hum. "I hope you're more comfortable around me."

"Extremely comfortable."

He gives me a strange sideways glance, so I scramble for safer ground.

"Should we, um, talk about our books?" I clutch my quantum consciousness paperback like it might shield me. "I'm not really sure how to start. I've never been in a book club before."

"Me either," Sean says. "I don't know. Maybe you could go first? Talk about any sections that stood out to you? I've read it, so I think there's some pretty cool ideas there. But I'm curious what you thought."

I believe him; he's leaning forward, engaged, and his eyes have a sheen like I'm his sole focus in the world.

My heart flips. I know it's not physically possible for my heart to do that, but it damn well feels like it's doing actual somersaults in my chest.

I nod enthusiastically because I'm ready to focus on books and not... Sean's unbelievably ripped body that I can't stop thinking about touching. "So, well, I actually got into it more than Iexpected and almost made it halfway." I flip to the middle of chapter two. "There's this part about how we absorb the world around us through"—I skim a paragraph to get the right term—"uh, 'resonance' that clicked with me."

"Yeah?" His eyebrows do this sexy arch and his eyes dance between mine like he's trying to absorb everything about me.

I bite my lip. "Yeah, um… I guess my understanding is that we only experience the things we're tuned in to experience. It's similar to what I learned in—" I shouldn't tell him how much therapy I've been in, right? I'll just tell him I read about it. "Well, I like psychology and read self-help books sometimes. I've always been fascinated that we all have the same bodies. You know, the basics. We all have brains and nervous systems and hormones. The same building blocks. Yet two people can respond differently to the same traumatic event. In thera—uh—from reading I've learned how one person might experience long-term PTSD from a car accident, for example. But another person, who has the same accident, can walk away with no mental struggles at all."

I run my fingers over the dry, smooth surface of a book page. If only I could've been someone who walked away completely fine from my 'accident.' Why can't I be the type of person to heal quickly?

Sean is giving me space to see if I have more to add.

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