Page 126 of Under Your Scars

“So does that mean you’ll marry me?”

I laugh. “Can you at least wait to ask untilaftermy brother’s wedding?”

“Sure thing, angel.”

We both get up to get ready for the day. We brush our teeth together, staring at each other in the mirror with the same romantic tension of two teenagers the same age at the same hotel resort on vacation.

I bite my bottom lip lightly. “I’m going to take a quick shower. You can…join me if you want.”

He rinses his mouth and shakes his head. “I took a shower last night.”

“I didn’t mean to get clean.”

He looks at me in the mirror, his eyes wide and confused. His knuckles tighten into fists and that’s when I notice the fresh bruises and scrapes across his fingers. “What happened to you?”

He puts his hands behind his back and turns to face me instead of the mirror. “Nothing.”

“That doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Do you want me to get in the shower with you, Elena?” he asks, changing the subject. I nod. “Use your words.”

“Yes.”

“I would see you naked. Fully.”

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“This is different. I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

I huff. “I think I know what I’m ready for.”

“You know what you want, not what you can handle. It’s different and you know it.”

My shoulders slump. “Please, Christian? Do this for me.”

He considers me for a second. “Kiss me,” he commands. “Kiss me like you mean it, and if you can handle a kiss, I will get in the shower with you.”

I know why he’s doing this. He has every reason to be concerned for me and my ability to handle being seen fully naked by him for the first time. Any other time that I’ve been undressed, he’s averted his eyes or held up a towel so he didn’t see anything. I’ve had that layer of protection, but I’m ready to shed it.

I appreciate his caution. I really do. But I desperately miss the way he pushed me. How he so easily manipulated me into the perfect little angel he sees in his head. I miss the way he took without asking. It brought me security in a strange way. Maybe it’s wrong to feel that way. Maybe it’s wrong to want him so badly—but I just want him to look at me with that feral desire I had grown so accustomed to.

When I ask him to touch me, I don’t want him to hesitate.

He keeps his hands clasped behind his back and stares down at me with such intensity that my bones feel like they’re melting.

Carefully, I rise up on my toes to press my lips to his. He’s so much taller than I am, so he shows me mercy and meets me halfway. I press my lips to his as hard as I can, hoping it will translate to eagerness instead of fear. It doesn’t. He pulls away, but I grip the front of his shirt tight in my fists. With a trembling breath, I kiss him like I never have before, as passionately and as confidently as I can manage. Until we’re breathless and his fingers are tangled into my hair to tug me closer.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m okay. Promise.”

“Kiss me again.”

I do. I kiss him until we’re breathless all over again, lips swollen and hearts burning with desire.

“Get in the shower,” he commands.

I undress slowly as he watches, my cheeks turning red under the blue heat of his eyes. After all, blue flames are the hottest.