Page 81 of Heart Over Heels
Mercer’s eyes angled back toward me. “What about when you were younger? When you were a kid?”
My laugh came out too loud in the otherwise stifling quiet. “Nothing changed, Mercy. I earned my way as soon as I was able.”
He swayed back like he needed the distance to see me whole. “You mean you…” His throat bobbed. “As achild?”
I’d thought I wanted his focus, but now it felt too pointed, sharp and digging into my most tender parts. I wasn’t often asked to explain myself. Most people didn’t want to know. I could have sprouted from the ground like any other less-than-human thing. Or been crafted in whatever circle of Hell belonged to deviants and hedonists.
My clients wanted me pretty, clean, and available. Whatever came before didn’t matter.
Still, Mercer’s scorn—hisjudgment—burned into me.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I snapped, stiffening my spine. “We had to eat, didn’t we?”
He flinched, abashed and suddenly tripping over himself. “Sorry, that was… that wasn’t for you. I’m just…” He trailed off, clearly thinking more than he could say until he forced out a simple, “I’m sorry.”
The fight bled out of me on a slow exhale, and the strain in my shoulders eased. “Don’t be. I was loved. Cared for. I didn’t want for anything.” I gave a tight smile. “Still don’t.”
I let the words hang for a moment, then leaned closer as my expression softened. “Besides, the job has its perks. I know my way around a body. Mine. Yours…” I placed my hand on his thigh, skating slowly toward his zipper.
I’d had plans for this day, and I wasn’t about to let them be spoiled by an untimely pity party. Decorating had been fun, but that was only half my agenda. Now that the house was stuffed full, I was due the same courtesy.
My fingertips dug in, pressing at the crease where Mercer’s leg met his groin. He didn’t move or push me away, but his silence spoke volumes. The burden of what we’d just discussed lingered like a wall between us, an obstacle to the intimacy I craved.
He was tempted. I heard it in the quickening of his breath and saw how his pupils swelled, but his restraint was stronger. His guilt for the sins of men I’d long since forgiven. Forgetting was a little bit harder.
I inched nearer, draping my tail across his shoulders and using my free hand to capture his face. The stubble that had thankfully returned scrubbed against my palm as I matched his gaze to mine.
“You said I make you comfortable, right?” I murmured. “Why don’t we go back to that?”
His mouth worked before he stammered. “I-I don’t want to… take advantage. It sounds like…” He swallowed. “I’m not sure people have always appreciated you.”
“Oh, Mercy,” I whispered, stroking his bristly cheek with my thumb. “People appreciate the hell out of me, and I’m about to show you why.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
Mercer
Two truths and a lie.
Did he realize he was playing our game, even now?
Darby was loved. Truth.
He was cared for. Truth.
But not wanting for anything? That was a lie.
I saw it in the flash of his eyes. A distant glimmer. A fading hope. Hedidwant something. Deeply. Desperately. And when I found out what it was, I would do everything in my power to give it to him.
Right now, it seemed he wanted me and yes, fuck yes, I wanted him too.
But he’d shared something personal, something deeper than he let on, and it changed the way I saw him. The sex work wasn’t a surprise. I was aware and, perhaps oddly, okay with it. What stalled me was the depth of it—the way it had shaped him and how others had used it to define him.
He was so much more than that, and he deserved more than I could give, but I could try. Maybe I could show him what I saw in him. The joy that bubbled out when he let his guard down,the pride about his role at the club, which made so much sense now that I realized that he had clawed his way to it. Overcoming stigmas and the efforts of the wraith who intended to use him the way so many men had before.
I saw his heart and the way it overflowed with love for the Dollhouse dancers. He adored them. Defended them. Like any mother would.
