“They were,” he said quietly. He hadn’t moved from the spot next to my bed. Even as I touched him, he hadn’t come closer.
“Tell me,” I whispered.
I couldn’t figure out why he chose now, of all times, to show me something so…horrific. My heart pounded as the true horror of it sank in. I did want to understand what had happened to him. Was he truly a monster, or had someone turned him into one?
“A house fire. My parents died, my sister was young. I went to her room to get her and didn’t have as much luck getting out.”
“Evie,” I said. “She made it out okay?”
“Yeah, without a scratch or burn on her.”
“Rook,” I said, the sadness in my voice obvious.
“Don’t talk to me with so much pity. I am fine.”
“Maybe now, but at some point, you weren’t. Does it hurt now?”
“Sometimes. I have days where it aches, usually after a long night of working or long rides.” He gave a tight smile. “It makes it more difficult to get into fistfights now. I learned the hard way you’re not as good of a fighter when half your body is more vulnerable.”
The words brought a clear image of a younger Rook trying to fight. His arms swinging, his body coiled to win, until he was hit on these scars.
I pushed myself onto my knees, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt under my palms as I pulled it up and over his head before I wrapped my arms around his neck. My heart raced with anticipation and fear as I pulled him down for a kiss, tasting the mint on his breath. He hesitated briefly, but then his hands found their way to my hips, gripping them tightly as he kissed me back with a fierce intensity. A growl rumbled in his throat as he pushed me down onto the bed, pinning my wrists above my head as he kissed along my jaw.
“You feel so bad for me, you’re kissing me? You think I need that level of pity?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
He stood back up and grabbed my ankles. I yelped as he dragged me to the end of the bed and he dropped to his knees in front of me.
“Should I take advantage of that? Make you feel so bad for me, I take everything I want from you right now?”
“Yes,” I said, trying to catch my breath.
His hands trailed up my legs, stopping at my thighs.
“And you want to be fucked by a monster? You want my ruined body on yours? You want my hands on you when, ten minutes ago, you were scared of them?”
I nodded. “Maybe you aren’t the monster.”He pushed at the oversized shirt I had slipped into, bunching it at my waist and smiling when he saw nothing underneath.“Maybe I am.”
He glanced up at me with heavy eyes as he grabbed my hips and yanked me further down the bed until I was perched on the corner.
In one smooth motion, my legs were thrown over his shoulders and his head buried between my thighs.
I gasped at the sudden heat of his mouth against me, the way his tongue moved along me in one rough motion. He didn’t hesitate, or give any light touch. There was nothing except him taking exactly what he wanted. He reached my clit, the burning need to have him moving harder and faster set me on edge, and he matched it immediately.
My skin prickled at the feel of his hand sliding up my bare thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. I should have hated the fast pace, but all I could think about was how badly he wanted to taste me. It felt as if he couldn’t wait any longer, and I liked each confident touch.
His fingers found their way to my entrance, making me gasp as he pushed two fingers inside. I met his intense gaze. He had angled us at the corner of the bed, giving me a full view of what him in the tall mirror sitting in the corner of my room.
I couldn’t look away. The view of his head buried between my legs was better at this angle. I could see the muscles in his back flex as his arms tightened on my thighs, the tattoos moving with him.
“Keep watching. Watch how much you love to get off on the tongue of a monster.”
“Stop,” I breathed. “Stop calling yourself that.”
“Why? You just did.”
“I take it back.”
