“Come on, baby.” Beside me, the couch dipped, and I lifted my chin to find him staring at me expectantly, hands wide and waiting. “Come lay across my chest.”
My spine stiffened. “No.”
“Marcos—”
“I can’t lay across your stitches. We probably shouldn’t have even done that. What if—”
“Hush.” He pinched my cheeks together, and I could only imagine how attractive I looked with my lips hyper-extended like some kind of fish. “I’m not in any pain but we can check my stitches together, okay? If you’re not comfortable laying on my chest, we’ll rest another way.”
“Take your shirt off,” I demanded, and though he kept his chuckle to himself, I saw his lips twitch just before he dragged his shirt over his head.
The white gauze that covered his wound was stained with red droplets, and I felt my stomach roll. “You’re bleeding.”
“Marcos, baby.”
I pushed against his shoulders, swinging one leg over both of his so I could settle on his lap. My fingers shook when I traced the outline of his bandage. The bruised skin there pulled tight when I peeled back the tape, exposing the harsh scar. His stitches had already begun to dissolve, but there was an angry one in the middle that remained more prominent than others… the one the blood dribbled from.
“It’s okay, Marcos. It’s not torn. Just irritated.”
Soft, and just barely, I touched the tip of my pinky finger to the blood on his stomach, studying the way it stained my skin that familiar hue of red.
“It’s not so scary this time,” I mumbled and pressed that finger to his skin. Like paint, I used his blood to draw a heart on a blank spot of his chest. It was lopsided and too faint, but I liked it.
“Baby.”
Dragging his thumb through the small pool of blood, he brought it to my mouth and then paused. “Do you trust me to take care of you?”
My nod was instant.
It was unexplainable. Borderline certifiable… but I knew. Right here, right now, I’d never been safer.
My lips parting, they quivered as his thumb swept over their curve, painting them carefully with his blood. My chest folded inward, and the air sort of punched from my lungs before rushing right back in.
“Now, kiss me,” he said, and I moaned straight into his mouth.
It was dizzying—the tang of his blood combined with the sharp taste of his come. A fissure of heat shot through me, but all I could manage to do was melt. I followed his lips wherever they went, withering while he sucked and nibbled.
Blood was smeared across his chin and up over his cheek, but he didn’t seem to notice as he held my face in his palms, looking at me like I was the world encompassed in a single body.
“My bloody little butterfly,” he said. “A fucking work of art.”
ChapterTen
Marcos
“Hey.” Hannah’s hand fell over mine, and when I looked up at her, I saw her eyes dipped low in concern. The plum lipstick she wore was smudged at the top of her chin, worsening as she frowned at me. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said, but I sort of wanted to tell her the truth.
Hannah was so attuned to my little disguise she didn’t know that this was who I was—who I’d always been.
Quiet. Broken. Starved for affection.
Through strands of untamed hair, from the edges of my tired eyes, I caught a glimpse of myself. The mirrors in the dance studio were floor to ceiling, covered in fingerprints but somehow always shining. Their vastness always seemed to highlight my exhaustion and the glitter I used to cover it up.
I’d dusted it across my eyelids and along the tops of my cheeks. The shade of blue I favored was nearly white, and each piece of glitter crafted an illusion that I was covered in a layer of frost.Ice.
The tip of my pinky finger was cold when I placed it at the corner of my eye, tracing along the pattern I’d created. My heart was a supple little guy, and he liked to imagine that every curve of color was where Ivan’s eyes had been. They touched me lightly throughout the day, their frost a striking contrast against my tanned skin.
