Chapter Thirty
Only after he pulls out, after we’ve had s*x, does he undress me and himself completely. It’s a new kind of intimacy to be naked when we’re both sated, bare in every sense of the word.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, running his hand over my hip.
Our bodies are a study in contrasts, mine pale and smooth, his made of scars. I copy the motion over him, feeling something small and puckered at his back. I sit up, peeking over his body.
“What happened here?”
“Bullet,” he says casually.
“You were shot? With a gun?”
“That’s typically where bullets come from.”
“Don’t make jokes. That’s horrible. What happened?”
“A customer didn’t want to pay. Or didn’t I mention that? I worked as an enforcer for my father. When a bastard wanted to f**k a girl and then leave without paying.”
