Page 60 of Say Hello, Kiss Goodbye

She knows the difference? Tarquin flipped the switch, and several pendant lights cast a soft glow, revealing the large room’s fully stocked bar, massive wall-mounted flatscreen television, and another expansive window overlooking the River Thames. “I knew you liked pool, but—”

“My dad watched snooker on TV when I was growing up. He found it relaxing.” Leia swerved around a long black leather couch and plunked her oversized tote on the floor, the almost empty macaron box tumbling out. She bounced to the far end of the table where fifteen red balls arranged in a triangular formation sat on its green felt surface. “It’s been ages since I had a game!”

Tarquin chuckled and picked up the macaron box, setting it on the table’s top rail. “Don’t get too excited.” He rested the flowers on the arm of the couch and whipped off his suit jacket, laying it neatly beside the blooms. “The only balls you’ll be playing with are mine.”

“That is soooo cheesy.” She snickered, picking up the white cue ball.

“I aim to please.” I swear, next to you coming, your laughter is my favorite sound.

He closed their distance, passing framed photos on the walls of his younger self, pink-cheeked and smiling with friends atop a snowy mountain and relaxing in an après-ski hot tub.

Leia squeezed the cue ball and returned it to the playing surface. “You’re just worried I’ll kick your ass.”

“You promise?”

She cocked an eyebrow and bent over, pretending to take aim with an invisible snooker cue. “I’m quite the expert with a slippery shaft.” She bit back a giggle, letting her dirty joke hang in the air while she completed her fake shot.

Now there’s a picture. A groan strangled in Tarquin’s throat, his heated gaze skimming the soft curves of her jeans-clad ass. “I know you are.” I can’t wait for you to sink down and ride me. Breaths grew ragged in his chest and a hot pulse in his trousers grew hard and eager. Game fucking on.

Leia spun around, catching his gape and the straining erection in his pants. A saucy grin owned her lips as she pulled herself up onto the table’s edge, her long legs dangling, spreading, welcoming him in. “You need a reminder…” She grabbed his loose tie and reeled him in between her open thighs.

“You need fewer clothes.” Tarquin’s warm breath feathered her neck, his hands finding their way underneath her hoodie, teasing the button on her jeans. She stretched back on the snooker table, just shy of the carefully arranged billiard balls, and raised her hips, allowing Tarquin to whisk the old Levi’s over her thighs and down her legs, the denim falling to the floor in a heap.

Sitting up, she widened her legs again and fussed with his belt buckle. “I have condoms in my bag—berry-flavored.” She slid his zipper down, her nails grazing his boxer briefs and his rock-hard heat, her mere touch triggering an explosion of achy throbs in Tarquin’s pants.

I want her so much. “Good. I like a woman who plans ahead.” Tarquin tugged off his trousers and socks then lunged forward, pulling her toward him, their bodies meeting in a clash of lips and teeth and frantic hands. He coaxed the cozy layers of her hoodie and t-shirt up…up, over her bra, and broke their kiss, a smile on his lips as Leia helped the clothes sail over her head. My love bite! It’s faded but still there. “Just look at you!” He gasped. “Perfect in so many ways.”

On first try, Tarquin unhooked the intricate lace and satin hugging her breasts while Leia’s feverish hands freed the remaining buttons on his shirt, dragging it down his arms. He tore at the cuffs, yanking the designer shirt from his wrists and tossing it on the couch behind them. He pressed closer, delirious for her mouth.

That’s when he saw it, woven into her skin.

The faded line originated just below her navel and veered around her belly button, where it crept up the center of her abdomen, halting an inch or two beneath her breasts.

Oh, Christ… what the hell? A hard swallow bobbed his throat, the cocky cheekiness of his gaze gone. He pulled Leia in, pressing soft kisses against her forehead, the urge to hold her, to protect her greater than his unbridled lust. She looks stitched back together. First the leg scar, now this? I assumed that one was a skating injury, but maybe not?

Leia stiffened slightly and looped her arms around his neck, her fingers lacing through his hair. She held on like she was offering him comfort, not the other way around.

Tarquin blinked, all sorts of fears and accusations whirling through his mind. Did someone hurt her? Her ex, maybe? He pulled back with a tight smile and tenderly swept the hair from her face, the throbbing ache in his boxer briefs fading. Sex was no longer top of mind. Obviously, she survived something major—something life-changing. But how do I ask… without sounding like a nosey prat? Or making her feel self-conscious? He ran his thumb down her cheek, hoping the right words would come. “Leia, I…” I really hope she doesn’t mind. “Is it okay to ask…what happened?”

A flicker of a grin played with her mouth. “Of course! Ask away. I wish more people did. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been at the beach and all eyes seem to be on my stomach. Not that it’s ever stopped me from wearing a cute bikini.” She fluttered her eyelashes, showing no signs of apprehension or embarrassment. “My spleen ruptured years ago. I needed emergency surgery to remove it.”

Ah, thank fuck it wasn’t her ex who hurt her. The tension pinching Tarquin’s brow eased. But still… the pain she must’ve been in. He softly caressed her jaw. “God, that’s awful.”

“I now have an increased risk of catching infections without it, so”—she lifted her arm, showing off a tiny charm dangling from the delicate rose gold bracelet on her left wrist—“I have to wear this in case of an emergency. It’s not the sexiest of inscriptions—NO SPLEEN.” She chuckled.

“But you’re okay now?”

A smile bloomed across her cheeks. “Yeah.” She looked down and grazed a finger along the faded white seam. “In a weird way, I’ve grown to like my scars. They make me feel badass, like I can survive anything. They’re a reminder of my resilience. But I’m never sure how guys will react, especially with this one.” A gentle shrug raised her shoulders. “That’s why I wore my dress the first time we had sex.”

“And the second time…” Doggie style from behind—fucking incredible. The semi in his underwear throbbed, growing firmer with the memory.

“Yeah. That was good!” She bit her lip, meeting his eyes again. “I didn’t know if I’d see you again, so I thought I’d spare us any awkwardness. And trust me, it can get awkward.” Her fingers skimmed up his happy trail, sparking goose bumps in their wake. “Guys get squeamish. They zip up, make excuses…”

“You’re kidding?”

“Well, not that I have a huge number of hookups to go by but…yeah, it’s happened. People want perfection.”

So true. I only thought she was perfect because… well, she’s perfect for ME. I didn’t mean she’s flawless. I’m not; no one is.