Page 37 of Under Your Scars

I violently choke on my champagne. “Go steady? What is this, 1945?”

He smirks. “I’m serious, Elena. You wanted me to be straightforward about my intentions, and that’s what I’m doing. If you want to be together, then let’s be together.”

Insecurity creeps up my spine. “Why me?”

He takes a deep breath. “My parents died when I was six. For the past three decades, all I’ve done is focus on the past. You are the only thing in my life that’s ever made me consider the future. At first, the future was just the next day. I started sleeping better because I knew falling asleep would make tomorrow come faster and I would get to see you again. I wanted to get a glimpse of you, to see you smile, to hear you laugh. I made a game out of trying to guess how you’d wear your hair to the office. I was always looking forward to the next day because I wanted to discover one more piece of the puzzle that made up Elena Young.”

He reaches across the space between us to tenderly hold my face in his hands. “And now I’ve got a whole section of my brain dedicated solely to you, and I think about more than just the next day. I see next week. I see next month. I see next year. I see you in every possible version of my future.” He presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “I’ve never been in a relationship. I can’t promise it will always be easy, but I can promise that I’ll always try to be the best version of myself for you.” Another chaste kiss, this time he keeps his lips ghosting over mine when he breaks it. “That’s why.”

I wipe my face, trying not to look like a complete mess after this man just said the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. “Yes, Mr. Reeves. I’ll go steady with you.” He flashes me that brilliant smile, and with a gentle tug on his tie, I pull him closer to me. “Now about that yacht…”

Our laughter fades into the steady bass of the club. When he takes me home and he kisses me, I’m taken back to that kiss we shared in the garden, and how that moment felt like he was promising me a future—because hewas.

CHAPTER 10

THE SILENCER

This is wrong. This is so fucking wrong, but I can’t help myself.

Frank Valenti is a pervert. He exploits all kinds of people in Meridian City by sticking cameras in the private suites at the Hellfire Lounge. Probably to catch powerful people participating in all manner of perversions so he can blackmail them.

Christian Reeves doesn’t know how fucking lucky he is to have Elena and all of her affections. Yes, he’s charming and hot and rich and blah, blah, blah. But he doesn’t deserve her and it’s not fucking fair that he gets to have her, and I don’t.

I don’t deserve her either, but that’s beside the point. She’smine. I don’t have to deserve her for her to belong to me.

It’s because she belongs to me that I have a sick obsession with seeing her beautiful face whenever and wherever I can.

Even if that means I have to be a pervert myself and hack into the Hellfire Lounge cameras to find and download the recording of Christian Reeves fucking her in one of those plush private suites. I knew the second Kate handed her that piece of paper that she wouldn’t need much convincing to go find that rich asshole waiting for her. I knew the second she stepped into that suite that he’d touch her, and she’d let him, because all those nights alone with her vibrator aren’t enough anymore.

The video footage is crystal clear and ultra-high resolution. There’s no sound, though, and that’s a damn shame, because fuck, what I wouldn’t give to hear her pretty little moans as she came undone.

I need to taste her. I need to feel her around me. I need to worship her the way only I can.

I need to love her so violently that it breaks her, and then fill in all those cracks with gold until the only thing holding her together is me.

I sit on my bed with my laptop to the side where the video plays, my cock out of my sweatpants and in my tight fist. I stroke my shaft, using my thumb to spread the precum around the tip, zooming in on Elena’s face twisting in pleasure.

Fuck Christian Reeves. Fuck him for bulldozing his way into her life at the exact moment I started to.

Most of all, fuck him for getting to taste her first. I don’t share. I’ve never had to share, and I’m not about to start.

Her dark brown hair frames her round face in a beautiful fucked-out way that makes her even sexier. Her plump bottom lip is between her teeth. Her thick lashes graze her cheeks as her lids flutter closed, hiding those honey brown irises from me.

My fist begins to make wet slapping sounds as I touch myself to a video she doesn’t even know exists. I deleted it from the Hellfire Lounge server, so nobody will ever see it but me.

With a loud grunt, I explode, cumming in hot, erratic spurts all over my hands and abdomen and chest, the milky white strands standing out against the purple bruises littering my torso.

The release is unsatisfying to a point where it’s almost frustrating, but my angel is a stubborn little thing, and she needs more…convincingbefore she lets me take what’s mine.

She’s going to fight me every step of the way, but it's fine. I love it when she fights. I love it when she thinks she’s being intimidating and when she foolishly thinks her threats have any weight to them.

She’s the only person who commands my self-control just as much as she makes me lose it.

I clean myself up with a towel, and then I close the video, keeping it in a password-protected file that happens to be Elena’s birthday. 0211. Not very secure, I know, but she has consumed every single facet of my life and it’s hard not to tie everything to her. My passwords. My computer screen. The fucking wallpaper on my cell phone.

She’s everywhere, and it’s still not enough. It will never be enough. Not until she loves me.

With a sigh, I navigate through the computer to the files I downloaded earlier. My pulse thrums with anticipation as I pull up a police report.