Page 65 of Heavy

Well, I’m here to prove him wrong. I am that desperate.

I’ve got my shirt off before I can tell myself to stop. Unclasping my bra and shoving down my shorts with my panties, I turn into the bathroom and don’t hesitate to open the glass door to the shower.

I had to just go for it. If I stopped to think or even glance at him before getting in, I’d have convinced myself this was a bad idea, turned around, and bolted out just like the last time I was naked in this very bathroom with him.

This shower is a decent size, easily capable of fitting more than a few people at a time. So I’m comfortable in our few feet of distance between one another.

He’s turned away from me, the waterfall shower head hitting his back. I can now confirm that nearly every inch of his backside is inked, all the way down to the curve of his ass, and straight to his thighs and calves.

It’s not how perfectly sculpted his body is or the incredible artwork across his back that has me staring. It’s the scars on them, the ones on his sides where I know whatever punctured him was dangerously close to his lungs. There are six in total, and the urge to reach out and touch them is so overwhelming that not doing it feels like knives slicing through my fingertips.

His shoulders rise as he releases a frustrated breath. “Yes?”

Now that I’m here, standing naked with him, I don’t know where my brain cells went. Every cognitive thought has gone straight out the door with the steam. One would argue I didn’t have a brain walking in like this in the first place, but I swear I had a plan.

When I don’t respond, he turns ever so slightly, and it’s then I see a cut across his eyebrow. “Silence doesn’t suit you, baby girl.”

“What… what happened?”

He leans back and lets the water fall over his face. It isn’t just the blood from his temple that runs from his face, but also his ear, and soon his head. His hand comes up to run through his hair, and when he turns to face me, my entire body heats.

“Doing a job,” is all he provides me with as an answer. “Since I didn’t havepussygetting in the way this time.” The rough delivery of his words makes me wince.

I keep my eyes on his, watching the water clear his face of blood and what I imagine is dirt.

I’ve forgotten myself, and I reach my hand out to touch his wound. His eyes widen, and the loud smack of his grip taking my wrist makes me jump. It didn’t hurt but surprised me enough that I take a step back.

“No.”

Clear as day.No.

“Please,” I whisper. “Let me touch you, Ronan, please.”

He narrows his eyes. “What makes youso special? What makes you think you have some magical fucking touch that won’t scorch me?”

I’d hoped that was the case. That I was the band-aid that was created for him, and only him. Where chaos meets the calm. The healer to the scarred.

That, however, is just my own delusion.

“Nothing. I’m nothing special.” He scowls at my choice words. I don’t think he likes that I said it, even if he was implying it to be so. “Hurt me, I don’t care, but let me—”

“Tell me who is after you, Cal.”

My bottom lip trembles, and my mouth immediately shuts.

He growls out, “That’s what I thought.”

“You’re a fucking asshole!” I scream so loudly it echoes around the bathroom, but even with its intensity, he never falters. Instead, he stands taller, keeping my wrist tight in his grip. The water that had been hitting his face now hits his chest causing droplets to bounce across my face. “I’m just… trying to protect you.”

The sudden movement makes me gasp, the impact of my back slamming against the tiled wall taking my breath away. I cough, the sting in my shoulder blades sharp and immediate. Before I can recover, he’s pressing against me, his free hand gripping my jaw and tilting my head up to meet his gaze.

“I don’t need protection anymore and you know that. Stop using my safety as a scapegoat. Tell me what I want to know.” His hand releases my chin, and purposefully trails down my neck to my arm, where he grabs my other wrist and brings them both up over my head.

My breasts rub against him, the wetness of his chest combined with the smallest of movements causes my nipples to feel every ripple of his muscular frame. His cock twitches against my thigh, and I pant out a whimper as my hips meet his.

“This is toxic…” He leans into my ear, his breath fanning against it in such a way that sends a shiver straight down my spine. “We are the makings of violence because I want to hurt you for lying to me, break you… make you cry out for mercy that I willnotgive you.”

I’m breathing erratically, my chest attempting to rise but being constricted over his dominance. When his hands move up from my wrist, my breath catches, and for a moment I swear my heart stops beating. His fingers intertwine with mine, and then his head gently rests against the wall behind me.