Page 46 of Painted Scars
She cradles the gift to her chest with a mock-horror expression. “Glitterhoof ismy precious! I wouldn’t dare.”
The night air bites through my jacket, and my body twitches to shift seats, sit next to her, and throw an arm over her. Except, she’s glowing, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy from laughter, unaffected by the cold.
“Thank you for getting me out of there last night.” The words sound like they stick in her throat.
I clear my throat. “You didn’t deserve that. And you’re welcome.”
“How long have you been watching me?” She dips her fry in and out of the ketchup. “I mean, a morally gray guy doesn’t make a girl a glass unicorn every day.”
She’s fishing for information again, or a reason to trust me.
I nudge the half-empty bowl of fries closer. “Enough gushing. Eat.”
When she’s finished, she blows out air and pushes aside her food.
“Let me take you home to listen to more smut.” I stand and climb off the picnic seat.
“Bonus observant stalker points.” She smiles as I take her rubbish and toss it in the nearby trash can.
We ride home, her snug against me. Her cheek rests on my back like she trusts me, a weight I don’t know how to carry. Soft, warm, and fucking devastating.
Bad idea, Glitter Bomb.
Outside her place, I cut the engine and stay on the bike.
She alights and peels off her helmet with a dramatic sigh. “Thanks for the ride, Grumpy Daddy.”
Our hands brush as I take the helmet. If only I didn’t have gloves separating us. “Get inside where it’s warm.”
She doesn’t leave and places her hands on the side of my helmet. “I want to kiss my stalker good night.”
My hands twitch at my sides, aching to reach for her. Tuck her hair behind her ear. Touch something soft and real.
“You shouldn’t want that from me,” I murmur, not moving, letting her take what she needs. “Not from me.”
Her thumbs brush the edge of my visor, searching for a crack in my armor. I let her linger a beat too long, then pry her fingers off me before I do something reckless, and she uncovers what’s underneath.
Her smile falls. “Why not? I thought you wanted a side of glitter and sass.”
If I start, I’ll never stop. I’ll take everything. Her breath, body, pussy, and fucking soul. And I’ve got no business asking for it.
“I’ll only hurt you,” I whisper.
“I know what this is,” she says. “I don’t do princes and fairytales. Only villains. Bad stalker for not paying attention.”
This is supposed to be friends, but I’ve gone from zero to one hundred in the space of forty-eight hours.
“And don’t judge my life choices, Grumpy.” God, help me, I like it when she calls me that. “Villains burn the world down for their princesses.”
Underneath her words, I feel her need for someone who won’t leave or flinch at damage, and I can’t promise I’ll stay when things get dangerous.
What the hell is my love language? Touch? Sacrifice? Savior complex? Murder? The last time I let someone in, I wrecked her. I’ve got no business trying again. But Kate… she’s not safe, and I can’t watch her suffer when I can stop it.
My resolve crumbles when she needs comfort.
She doesn’t let me give it and turns away. “Good night, Grumpy Stalker.”
Fuck, I hate myself for not giving her what she deserves.
