Chapter 26 – Age 17 #2
“I didn’t stab you.” She gazes at me once again. “Not really.” Her mouth jerks. “I should’ve, though.”
“You should’ve…” I whisper, my voice cracking, the back of my hand stroking softly down her cheek.
Her brows draw together while my unwavering gaze holds hers, not wanting to look at anything else for as long as I live. Breathless seconds pass between us. And I feel it in every beat of my heart.
And in this moment, I know we both know that something has shifted between us, something new born from this vulnerability she allowed me a glimpse into. She handed me a gift in the form of trust—with her story and her scars. And I’d never take that for granted.
I love how strong Iseult is, but there’s something beautiful about her when she’s at her weakest.
I start to rise, and she clutches her arms around me, holding me to her with a wounded gaze. And I feel it—that sinking feeling in my gut, that squeezing inside my chest like she’s there reminding me who my heart belongs to.
“I’m just going to undress so I can join you,” I say, getting to my feet.
I start with the buttons of my shirt, slowly undoing each one.
Her eyes close and her face slightly crumbles as she dips into the water. “Look, you don’t have to stay. Not after what you saw.”
She tries to sound strong, but I can read between the lines. She’s afraid I’m going to reject her.
“I wouldn’t blame you for it,” she goes on, staring into the wall ahead. “I know they’re hideous. I know what I look like. I can barely look at myself. Why would you want to?”
I toss off my shirt and remove my cell from my pants pocket, placing it on one of the towel shelves, before I find myself hurrying toward her. When I slide a foot inside the tub with my pants still on, she gapes at my chest.
“Gio…? What is that on your shoulder?” Her eyes rove down my body, her wild expression taking in the tattoo I completely forgot about in this moment.
“Oh, that?” I flex my bicep as I smirk. “Let me get in and I’ll explain.”
She makes room for me and I settle into a seated position in the warm water. “Come here, baby.” I drag her closer with an arm curled to her back. “I need to hold you. I couldn’t stand another second of you thinking that I wouldn’t want you.”
My hands reach for her hips, lifting her up gently and placing her on my lap facing me.
Her fingertips trace the vivid red and black tattoo.
“When did you get this?” she whispers in awe.
“After the first night we were together.” I grin. “I needed a keepsake.”
I recall how hard she bit me, leaving a mark.
“So you decided to get the bite mark I gave you permanently tattooed on your skin with my name right under it?”
“That’s right. You have a problem with that, bambina?”
I expect her to make fun of me. To laugh at how ridiculous I am. But the last thing I expect…is for her to burst into tears.
“Shit, baby,” I weave my arms around her as she sobs against the tattoo. “I’m sorry you think it’s so ugly that you’re crying about it. I can have it removed.”
She laughs tearfully.
“Shut up,” she mutters. “I love it.”
“Aww, you mean you’re capable of loving something?”
She weaves her head back just as she punches me in the ribs.
I groan on a chuckle.
“Just because my utter disdain for you has lowered to minor hatred doesn’t mean I won’t kill you.”
I hold her naked body tighter against me. “You wouldn’t be my Red if you didn’t threaten me at least once a day.”
My lips slant up and I inhale deeply, feeling fulfilled and at peace just merely being with her. Like this right here is enough for me. Enough to make me happy.
“You’re beautiful, Iseult. Nothing has changed for me. I need you to know that. If anything, I only want you more.”
She sniffles. “Well, clearly you were kicked on your head a good few times.”
“No.” I hold her cheek in my palm. “I just know a good thing when I see it.”
She blinks back the moisture welling anew in her eyes.
“Why do you have to be so nice to me, you idiot?” She presses two fingers into her eyes with a tattered laugh.
“Just so I can hear you call me that.”
And when she inhales sharply, emotions threaded in her gaze, I grasp the side of her neck and watch her eyes light up right before I kiss her.
With a grunt, I slide my tongue past her lips, her moans tangled with the rumbling sounds of satisfaction coming from deep in my chest.
My perfect woman thinking she’s anything but that in my eyes is a damn sin.
I fist her hair, tugging her head back, sucking on her jaw, her tongue. My other hand drifts down her spine until I can feel the grooves of those scars, until she flinches away.
“Hey,” I tell her, my palms returning to cup her face. “Stand up.”
“What?” The momentary fear seeping in her gaze has my heart lurching.
“I said stand up, baby. I don’t like repeating myself.”
She mutters a curse before she slowly climbs up in the water.
Bare and beautiful. Water drips down around the slope of her full breasts, those hard pink nipples calling for my mouth.
She can barely look at me as my gaze traces lower and I take in that first scar around her lower abdomen.
A long groove extends around her belly button, like he was drawing on her with fire, like he was toying with her as she screamed.
My heart can barely take it.
Fuck.
I didn’t see those.
I can make out her heavy breath while my pulse races to an unnatural speed, unable to contain my level of fury.
Say something, or she’s gonna think this changes something for you.
Both my palms clasp her hips and I bring her close to my mouth. As I look up at her, my lips drop to what she believes are her imperfections, and I kiss them.
“You.”
Kiss.
“Are.”
Kiss.
“Beautiful.”
I spin her around, my mouth coasting up every scar across her lower back, all six of them, not missing an inch of her gorgeous skin.
I kiss her a final time before lifting to my feet. Grabbing her jaw, I stare intensely at her, drowning in the weight of my feelings, then smash her lips to mine. Our kiss is maddening, my groans desperate, like a man who needs her to survive.
And I do. I need her.
“You take my breath away, Iseult.” My forehead meets hers. “I see you, baby—the person you are underneath—and I’m not the least bit afraid at the thought of falling in love with you.”
She gasps, disbelief clouding her expression.
“It doesn’t turn you off to look at me?” Her voice cracks and sways with emotion.
With the tips of my fingers, I trace her scars with my rough fingertips while I deepen my gaze with hers.
“My beautiful girl. There’s nothing about you that could ever turn me off. You are art. It’s a privilege to look at you.”
“I think you're a liar,” she whispers.
“Then I'll spend my whole life proving you wrong.”
Her chin trembles as she shakes her head. “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna regret this.”
And she’s the one kissing me now. Through her agony, through her tears, she kisses me like she never wants to let go.
And I hope like hell she won’t have to.