Page 240 of Legacy
No, no. Damn those lips.
He kisses down, slow and lazy, like he has all the time in the world, my neck, the slope of my shoulder, and when his fingers start to tug at the edge of the comforter, I stiffen.
“No,” I whisper, holding it tight to my chest.
He stills.
Just for a second.
It’s small, but I see it.
The flicker of something raw in his eyes. Hurt. Wounded pride, maybe. Or confusion.
He pulls back a little, hand retreating.
“I’m not stupid, Scarlet,” he says quietly. “It’s been five years. I know bodies change. Yours is perfect. You’re perfect. You don’t have to hide from me.”
I keep my eyes on the ceiling, afraid if I look at him, he’ll see what I’m hiding.
“And,” he adds with a half smile, “I want to kiss you.Everywhere. So you’re going to have to let go of the blanket if I’m gonna get another taste of that—”
“It’s not that,” I blurt, cutting himoff.
He pauses, brow furrowing. I suck in a breath, trying to get the words out.
“My body. It’s hot,” I say laced with irritation. “I’m sexy as hell, that’s not my problem.”
I sigh and drop my gaze, heart hammering. “It’s a tattoo.”
That surprises him.
I see it immediately.
His expression shifts from confused to curious—and then, when something else flashes behind his eyes, I know what he’s assuming.
His jaw ticks. His posture straightens, slightly pulling away.
“Of course,” he mutters. “We have a past. That’s on me. I let you go. If you’ve got a dedication to someone else, I get it.”
I turn my head to face him, something sharp and defensive climbing my throat.
Typical of Angelo to assume I’m branded with another man.
I pull the comforter down.
Slowly.
His breath catches when I expose my ribs. Left side. Just under the curve of my breast.
Our initials.
A.A.
Just like he has.
He freezes.
Like he’s been struck by lightning.
