Page 15 of Beg for You

Just like every other aspect of my life.

I’d tried to tell myself I could have a life of my own, that I could break free of the pain, the past, the guilt, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t.

The door swung open and Cal filled the space, tall and big and scarred and terrifying. God, magnificent.

“Please,” I whispered. “I…I need you to finish my tattoo…tonight. I need it done…I need it…I—”

His hands were suddenly on my shoulders and he was pulling me inside, shutting the door behind me. His fingers curled around my biceps and he stared down at me, intense gaze moving over my face. “What is it? What the hell’s going on?”

I clutched at his shirt. “Can you do it, can you finish it tonight? Please…please, need you to finish it…I need—”

He shook his head. “It’ll take longer than tonight, and you’re not healed enough for another session.”

I slumped, all my energy suddenly drained from me. Cal’s arms came around me, and he cursed. “What the fuck?”

God. What was I doing? I tried to push away, but he held on to me. Humiliation burned my cheeks, and I pulled on every bit of strength that I had and straightened. This time he let me. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come here. Of course, you can’t do it right now. I’ll…I’ll leave.” I tried to turn away, but he held on to me. I forced myself to look up at him. “I’m sorry,” I said again. “I’ll see you at our allotted appointment time.”

He shook his head.

I blinked.

“Don’t have anyone else coming in tonight. If you want, I can give you something else, something small?”

The relief I felt had me grabbing for the wall. I didn’t care what he did. I just…needed this. “Yes, I’d like that. Thank you.”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at me with a dark intensity, in a way that had heat curling low in my belly and my nipples tightening against my shirt.

I dragged in a breath. I suddenly felt reckless. The desperation hammering me when I was banging on his door had changed into something else. Oh, I knew what I was doing. I was running, hiding from my feelings, from what I might have to do—from the guilt that threatened to suffocate me every day.

I’d been stupid, naïve to think I could erase even a small part of that by covering the scars on my body. I’d failed my brother and there was no getting around it, no hiding from it. And now I’d pay the price for it, because I owed my father. And I’d never hurt Gran, not for anything.

I walked to the curtained-off room beside the counter without being asked. Cal followed me in, and I turned to him. “I don’t know what I want. I just…I need it.”

“Where do you want it, Cassandra?”

I shook my head. “Somewhere no one will see it unless I want them to.”

He took a step closer, not crowding me, but close enough that my heart started to race faster. He reached out, fingers curling around my waist. “How about…” His hand slid higher, over my ribs, stopping just below my breast. His thumb slid back and forth. “Here?”

My nerve endings ignited, the heat from his skin burning me through the silk of my shirt.

His hand dropped to my hip. “Or here?”

My breathing grew ragged.

His hand came back up to the side of my neck, then slid down to my shoulder. “Or maybe something on your other shoulder?”

I nodded, desperately trying to hide the way my body trembled. “Yes, I like that idea.”

He dropped his hand and stepped back…and waited.

Something about the look in his eyes, almost like a challenge, like he didn’t believe I’d do it, bolstered me. I couldn’t explain it, but I wanted to prove myself to this man, show him that I wasn’t the stuck-up rich girl he thought I was. I didn’t want him to see me that way. Not him. So I lifted my hands and undid my shirt buttons. The emerald green silk slipped through my fingers, this time without hesitation or embarrassment. Cal had seen me, the ugly, the shame I carried around with me every day. Even if he didn’t know what caused that shame, he’d seen it, and he hadn’t flinched away.

My bra was black lace, sexy. I liked sexy lingerie. It made me feel good. When I stood in front of the mirror and angled my body just right, I couldn’t see the scars. I was Cassy. The woman I was meant to be.

I wasn’t looking at him, but I heard his rough exhale. It emboldened me, and before I could think about what I was doing, or why, I reached back and unhooked my bra as well, let it drop down my arms, and placed it with my shirt.

He didn’t move.