Page 91 of Painted Scars
Her eyes are fluffy and kind, the perfect antidote to Harper’s arctic smirk. “Has he ever let you down or lied to you?”
“Not that I know of.” I chew the inside of my cheek.
Loose curls fall into Charlie’s face when she tilts her head. “Don’t run from the past or his walls. Trust him until he gives you a reason not to. He’s showing you who he is in ways that counts.”
Harper removes a glitter sticker and posts it on the back of my hand. “Yeah, cupcake. Don’t let your fears steal your days. Take them back. You’re gold under all that glitter eye makeup, and the right person for you will see that.”
I blink, caught off guard by the hint of tenderness in her voice. She’s different. Softer and smiling more. I think it’s the mysterious late-night caller who makes her laugh and sands down the sharp corners.
The softness is gone with her evil grin. “If he turns out to be an idiot, we’ll bury him in these shipping boxes and dump him in Shadow Lake.”
I laugh, watery and shaky, loving the advice from my two friends, even when it’s at opposite ends of the spectrum. For a moment, the doubt eases, replaced by a warmth of being surrounded by my girls. My safe harbor in the storm.
Even Josh comes out of his box to wag his tail and get in on the Charlie cuddles, and Harper leaning her head on my shoulder.
Charlie lifts the rainbow pumpkin to the light coming through the window, creating a kaleidoscope. “You’re both cracked glass, but it doesn’t mean the light can’t shine through.”
“You’re right.” I toss a roll of bubble wrap at Harper. “Stop being deep and… colorful, Harper, you’re concerning me.”
Harper kisses my head for the first time ever. “That’s what friends are for. And I better earn that Lachlan Kane point back.”
CHAPTER 25 - KATE
Idid not expect this after a long day of packing the last of the orders, ready for tomorrow’s shipment. Grumpy Daddy sprawled on my bed like a forbidden gift, one wrist loosely bound in my robe sash and secured to the headboard like a sinful invitation. Shirtless and tattoos on display, his golden skin catches the lamplight, the ridges of his chest muscles carved from shadow and temptation.
Dear God, the bulge in his pants, waiting for me.
He tilts his helmet because the thing is welded to his neck. Underneath, I sense his eyes tracking me like I’m the only prey he’ll ever want.
Exhaustion hummed through my body seconds earlier from packing boxes all weekend. The only thing that held me upright was the fantasy of a hot bath, candles, soft music, wine, and my Kindle. Vitality sparks in my muscles, giving me the boost I need.
“You’ve been so good this weekend, Glitter Bomb,” he drawls, voice low enough to prompt shivers. “Tonight, I’m yours. Do whatever you want to me.”
That’s an invitation for sin if I’ve ever heard one. Heat floods every corner of my body, and my mouth becomes the Sahara. I walk the perimeter of the bed, eyes slowly raking over every ridge of hard muscle, deciding which part of my sexy present to unwrap first. My confidence surges with every step as my predator pretends to be tame.
“Whatever I want?” I echo, playing with my lip, pretending to think it over. “That’s a dangerous thing to offer a girl with a glitter addiction and a villain kink.” I set my knee on the long edge of the mattress.
He chuckles, and my body aches with a different kind of pain. Desire to see his smile and his eyes. “Call it a home invasion spa service because afterward, I’m carrying you into the bath to soak those aching muscles and giving you the massage of your life.”
God, I love this man! He’s stimulating my follicle-releasing hormones.
“You’re offering yourself up as a sacrifice and letting me take control?” My pulse hammers as I climb onto the bed to inspect my tribute. “I ought to be good more often.”
I crawl over to him slowly, straddling his lap, relishing the sound of his breath catching. My fingers ghost over the silk at his wrist, then trail down the smattering of hair on his forearm, over the inside of his elbow, along his strong biceps, stopping to circle his shoulder. Muscle flexes at my touch, and I keep exploring down the rugged ridges of his pecs and abdomen.
His struggle to let me dominate rumbles in his throat. “I trust you.”
Trust. Debatable. I’ll take it, though, because I can’t get enough of him, and something tells me he can’t get his fill of me either.
“No rules?” Because I want to get my inner dominant on tonight, and I want to see his face.
Grumpy Daddy inhales sharply and jerks against his binding when I trail the line of dark hair that disappears beneath his waistband. “Blindfold. That’s my only stipulation.”
I shoot down the bite of rejection, swallowing it with the same determination of swallowing worse. He gives me trust on a leash, and my book girlie should be thrilled when hand necklaces and bedazzled collars are her jam. Tease and taste. Fun and pleasure. Except the mask reminds me I’m loving a shadow, a man who lets me have his body, but not all of him. And damn him, my traitorous heart wants it all.
I shake it off with, “I like you like this. Tied up and Mine. At my mercy.”
“Enjoy it while it lasts, Glitter Bomb.” His voice drops a notch darker.
