Chapter 37 Maddox #3
As soon as the clothes are gone, she’ll see the truth of what the Order has done to me. Every foul, depraved wound caused by the people who were meant to take care of me. That I’m not a tortured artist; I’m a full tragedy.
I drop my head into the cradle of her neck and wrap my arms around her. I won’t take my top off, but I can’t stop her from finding out the truth. When she does, I don’t want to see the pity on her face.
So when her hands move beneath the shirt to my back, I pull the soft skin of her neck into my mouth to pretend we’re in a world where she doesn’t know that I’m a patchwork of scars. Covered in burns and slashes from a time when being my own person was a fool’s dream.
I hate those fucking marks with every fiber of my being. Every day, I wake up and go to sleep wearing the permanent reminder that I was bred to live beneath someone else’s thumb.
I don’t want Reyna to see me as weak.
Her body tenses against me, and I hold her tighter because if I lose a part of her to this, I at least want to know what it feels like to be wholly complete for a short while.
Reyna keeps running her fingers over my back regardless of how hard I’m thrusting into her, hoping I can make her forget that they’re there.
I’ll never be as perfect as she is. One day she’s going to realize I’ll never fully escape the past. Then she’ll stop looking at me like I was the one who hung the sun in the sky.
A crater forms in my chest when she pushes me back. I wish I hadn’t asked her to put a camera up to capture the moment everything shatters.
She holds my face in the palms of her hands and stares into my eyes.
Then she kisses me.
She kisses me, and I almost break because she shouldn’t be kissing me the way she is. Like they’re just scars and she doesn’t give a shit about the weight they carry.
I tangle my fingers in her hair to deepen the kiss, but she pulls back to rasp, “Please don’t stop.”
That does it for me.
I grip her hips and drive into her like a man who’s lost all touch with humanity. She throws her head back with a cry, clawing at my back like she couldn’t care less that I’ll carry the evidence of my rotten childhood on my skin forever. I don’t deserve her, yet it feels so good to be selfish.
Reyna’s moans grow wilder as she thrashes around, choking my cock with her pussy. She trains her sights on me even though her eyelids are fluttering and she’s shaking her head like the pressure is too much.
This time, when she comes, I fall over the edge with her. I watch her ride out her orgasm, eyes closed in utter bliss as she screams my name. White-hot ecstasy floods my veins when I spill myself into her, filling her to the brim until there’s nothing left in me to give.
I’ll never get over the sight of her. The paint all over her only makes her more beautiful.
I refuse to pull out, perfectly content with holding on to Reyna while I’m still buried inside her.
It isn’t until her bleary eyes find mine that I carefully peel her way from the canvas to carry her to the bathroom.
My chest expands when she wraps her arms around the back of my neck and leans her cheek against my shoulder.
I turn the shower faucet on hot, take my top off, then step inside once steam rolls out into the room.
The paint ripples off Reyna’s back and flows down her hair, turning the water murky before it spirals into the drain.
More washes away beneath my fingertips as I rub circles over her skin, tracing the dragon tattoo snaking up her spine as I do.
“Can you stand, my love?” I ask quietly when I’ve washed all that I can reach.
She nods, slowly unwrapping herself from me. It kills me to let her go, but it’s not worth an accidental injury.
Carefully withdrawing from her, I lower her legs onto the floor and hold on to her just in case she loses her balance. A warm hand curls around my arm when I reach for the soap to continue washing her. Her lips are parted at the array of women’s products I bought for her.
She doesn’t ask any questions, reaching for the soap behind me. I watch with worry as she brings me under the hot spray of water and squeezes a dollop onto her hand before cleaning me the way I did her.
A dagger lodges in my throat beneath the tenderness of her touch, as if I might be as precious as she is.
Anything I want to say dies on my tongue.
My muscles coil tight when she motions for me to turn around.
Every cell in my body screams at me to deny her request because seeing the damage is different from feeling it.
Her soft gaze lands on my own, and with one look, she silences all the voices in my head.
My nostrils flare, and I shift around, baring my back for her to see the wounds my father and the Order left.
I try to notice any changes in her breathing pattern.
But when her hand lands on my mutilated body, she cleans my back with the same delicate touch that she afforded the rest of me.
My muscles loosen, and my eyes drift shut.
To be understood is to know intimacy. That’s what she told me the first time I met her. I get it now.
I turn around and drop my forehead to hers. I’m not sure how I ever lived a life without her.
“What happened?” she asks, tracing the lines of my face.
I press a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “I wasn’t just made into a killer. I was beaten into one.”
Reyna must see something that I’ve been desperately trying to hide from her, because her next words gut me. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
A humorless laugh tears out of me, and I lean back against the shower wall. “I assure you, shame is not what I’m feeling. They are, however, fucking hideous.”
“They’re your story.”
“Yes, and it’s a fucking hideous story.” I shake my head, putting some space between us. I bloody hate that she’s seeing me like this. “It’s like I’m a monster.” A leashed one.
She wraps her arms around my waist to keep me in place. “You’re a protector. Sometimes monsters and protectors are the same thing.”
I stare at her, speechless all over again.
I know her just as she knows me.
Fuck it.
My lips crash against hers as I wrap her in my arms. Does she think she can say something like that and not disintegrate the mask I’ve had to wear? Only Reyna will ever see this side of me.
If I’m a demon, I’ll make a hell just for us.
“What was that for?” Reyna gasps when I finally pry myself away for air.
“I’ve decided I’m going to be an asshole again. I want you on the bed on your hands and knees within the next ten seconds, Miss Sinaga. Or else your ass is going to be so red you won’t be able to sit down for your exam.”
A coy grin twists her lips. “Yes, Mr. Shaw.”