Page 69 of The Devil's Tattoo

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“Meneither.”

“Favoritemovie?”

“Oh, that’s a tough one.The BourneIdentity.”

“Really?” he asked,surprised.

“I like action movies.Yours?”

“FightClub.”

“I likedthebook.”

His eyes crinkled in the corners as a smile crept ontohisface.

“What?” I asked, wondering what he found soamusing.

“I told you we’d have more in common thanmusic.”

“When did yousaythat?”

“I didn’t, but I can see it written all overyourface.”

“Am I that transparent?” I joked, biting mybottomlip.

“No,” he replied as he ran a hand over my ass, down my thigh, and pulled my leg around his waist. “You’re guarded so much I have a hard time knowing whatyouwant.”

I pressed up against his chest, my hands running across his jaw and into his hair. Our lips brushed together, but neither of us moved tocapture.

“Did someone hurt you?” he asked with such sincerity. I knew he wasn’t talking about emotions. “Because I know about hurt, Zoe. I want to make itbetter.”

I pulled away, my eyes searching his. Suddenly, I couldn’t see anything but his words. “What do you mean ‘you knowabouthurt’?”

He frowned, his gaze falling away, and I knew he was holding somethingback,too.

“Will?” Iprodded.

“I just want to take care of you.” He cupped my face with his hand like I was something delicate, and his lips found mine. He kissed me with such devotion and tenderness that any worry I had melted away. His hand left my face and brushed the length of my arm. “What’s the scar from?” he asked, running fingers along the lengthofit.

I moved my arm between us, resting a palm over the tattoo on his chest so he couldn’t touch it. “I brokemyarm.”

“But…”

“It didn’t heal properly, so I had to have surgery. I have a metal pin stuck in it. They love me at airportsecurity.”

He seemed to get that I was edging around the question, so he let it drop but not beforesighing.

“What?” I asked,scowling.

“It’s not a very cleansurgicalscar.”

“Well, that’s what happened.” I went to roll away from him, but a strong arm circled around mywaist.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, Zo,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me everything, but I’d hoped you would trust me enough to,anyway.”

“Likewise.” I frowned, knowing how much of a lie that was. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to tell him the truth. It was more like I wasn’t ready yet. Maybe he wasthesame.

His hand found mine, our fingersentwining.