“Close the door, so Trix doesn’t come in here,” he ordered.

I closed the door and noticed there was no lock, so I wedged a shoe off my dresser to semi-lock it. As soon as I was done, I reached for the hem of his shirt and cut quickly up the front of his torso. What I saw on his body was worse than I’d imagined.

His chest, belly, and ribs were one huge bruise, so dark I could barely discern the tattoos across his body. I felt the tears running down my cheeks as I slipped behind him, trying not to jostle the bed, as I pulled the rest of the shirt down his arms. His back was almost completely unblemished. I leaned forward to take a look at his chest again. Yep, it was just as bad as I thought. I didn’t understand how on earth only the front half of his body was this bruised.

I started to question him. “What…” Aand all of a sudden it dawned on me. “Tell me this didn’t happen because of me,” I whispered. My tears were no longer running down my cheeks; they were pouring. I could barely see out of my eyes. “Tell me that my father didn’t do this to you.”

He didn’t answer, and that was answer enough.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. So sorry…” I was shaking in disbelief and horror.

“Hey.” He reached up and brushed my hair back from my face, cupping my cheek. “This is not your fault, Brenna. You hear me? I’m an Ace. I knew what I was doing. This is not your fault.”

I could barely understand him as I sat there, shaking miserably and staring into his eyes. It was like the only thing I was aware of was my colossal fuck-up and his beautiful dark brown eyes. Before I knew it, he was pulling me onto his lap.

“Dragon, don’t! Your ribs!” I didn’t want him holding me because I didn’t want to hurt him, but I couldn’t wiggle away because that would make it even worse. I was stuck there on his lap, trying my hardest to keep from brushing up against the front of him.

“I’m fine, Brenna. It’s over, baby.” He had one hand wrapped around my waist and the other on the side of my face, his fingers weaving through the hair behind my ear. “It’s over, baby. No need for cryin’. Now, we can move the fuck on from this shit. No more repercussions. Okay?”

My tears were starting to dry on my face as I sniffled, and he gently rubbed his thumb across the apple of my cheek. It was like I was mesmerized by the look on his face, the way his body was wrapped around me.

“Baby. It’s over for us. Not just me. It’s over for you, too. You don’t have to worry about people sayin’ shit to you, Slider bein’ pissed, none of it. It’s behind us.”

He shifted forward, so the space between our faces disappeared, and I closed my eyes as he started to slowly kiss my face.

I whispered, “Okay,” as he kissed me gently across my cheek, the tip of my nose, and my forehead.

He rubbed his lips across the tears on my eyelashes, and then I felt him lick his lips. That was the trigger. I didn’t know why that single movement made me catch my breath and lift my lips toward him, but it did. All of a sudden, I was begging him to kiss me. Thankfully, he didn’t keep me waiting.

This kiss wasn’t soft. The tenderness I’d felt just moments before was completely gone, and he instantly pushed his tongue between my swollen lips. He ran it between my top lip and teeth and then brushed it across the roof of my mouth. I shuddered. I wanted to push myself against him. My heart was beating so fast that I could hear it in my ears, and I wanted nothing more in that minute than to push him onto the bed and make sure that he was okay by tracing his body with my lips. I wanted to inhale him, to pull him into my body so deep that he couldn’t ever be hurt again. I knew I was thinking crazy. Nothing was clear between us, and I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, but I wanted him, right now. But he was hurt, and he was sitting on my bed, holding himself abnormally still, so I sat pliantly in his lap, taking whatever he had to offer.

He kissed me for what seemed like forever, but still, it wasn’t long enough. His hand was clutched tightly in my hair, and every time he tugged on it, I felt small whimpers travel up my throat. Suddenly, he stood me up in front of him, and the minute I caught my balance, he lifted my tank top over my head. I quickly raised my arms to cover myself, but he grasped my wrists, and I was too conscious of his bruises to fight him.

“Damn, Brenna. You’re more beautiful than I remembered.” His voice was low, and he was staring right at my breasts.

I was totally embarrassed. Yes, he’d seen me naked before, but that was before I’d gained the massive stretch marks across my belly. I was hoping he’d be so mesmerized by my larger breasts that he wouldn’t even look farther south. My stomach used to be so smooth and toned. I’d had a belly button piercing that I proudly showed off whenever I could. Now, I could barely look at my own stomach, and there was no way in hell I’d willingly let anyone else catch a glimpse. My prayers that he would ignore everything but my boobs went unanswered. He let go of one of my wrists, and I stood there, frozen, as he reached up to trace the thickest scar on my belly.

“Is this from your belly ring?” he asked me, still running his finger up and down the scar.

It felt weird. The skin was so thin there that it was extra sensitive.

“Yeah,” I told him, my voice husky. “I took it out when I found out I was pregnant, but it didn’t heal right away. Then, it made that stretch mark a hundred times worse.”

He nodded his head and continued to stare at my stomach. When I was about to step away from him, he raised his other hand and used both to trace the silvery lines covering my torso. He was running his fingers over them, and it reminded me of the way a blind person read braille. His eyes were narrowed in concentration, resembling something close to awe. I finally managed a step away, but I paused when he looked up to catch my eye.