Page 33 of Beautifully Scarred


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“Chill out, Lilah,” Jimmy says.

“What crawled up your ass?” I ask, because something is definitely up with him tonight.

“Nothing, you just don’t have to be such a bitch.”

“I’m sorry, did I hurt your girlfriend’s feelings?” I use the voice of a child.

“Whatever. Do what you want. You will anyway.” He lifts his drink to his lips and finishes it.

Pissed off, I bolt up off the lounger and storm into the house. I’d rather hang out with myself in my room than these lame asses. I stash the recreational substances I picked up off Derek today and flop back onto the mattress. What is Jimmy’s problem? Has he finally tired of me? Found someone more redeemable in Adelaide?

That thought both frightens and elates me in equal parts. I’ll never have the courage to push him away on my own.

I don’t know how long I lie there, drifting between emotions, before the sound of my door smacking open startles me. When I whip into an upright position, Jimmy stands in the door frame, hands clenched into tight fists, breathing heavily. The expression on his face is a mixture of desperation, regret, and anger.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

“Why do you do that?” He steps into the room.

I stand from the bed. “Do what?”

He shakes his head and steps toward me. There’re only a few inches between us now, and my skin tingles at the thought of touching his.

“You always do that,” he says.

“Always do what?”

He stares at me.

“Forget it. I’m not doing this with you. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” I turn to climb back into bed, but his arms wrap around me from behind, pinning mine to my sides.

“Jimmy, what are you doing?” I struggle to free myself from his hold, to no avail.

He dips his head to my neck and inhales. “Do you know you always smell the same? Whether you’re sober or drunk, high or pissed off, happy or sad? It’s one of the few constants about you. I always feel better after I smell you.”

He sounds sad and more hopeless than I’ve ever heard him. What the hell happened to make him feel this way?

I stop struggling and lean into him. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

He shakes his head. “I just need you right now. I need to feel you all around me. I need to lose myself in you.”

He eases his grip a bit, and I turn in his arms. Our gazes lock, and I’m not prepared for the emotions swirling in his vision. He hasn’t looked so torn apart since we were back in Virginia. My heart clenches at the pain in his eyes, and I brush his dark hair away from his forehead.

“Whatever you need,” I whisper.

His shoulders sag.

My hands move to the hem of his shirt and I lift it over his head until he stands shirtless in front of me. I pepper kisses over his hard pecs, and his hand sinks into the hair at the back of my head. His eyes fall closed.

Ever so slowly, I drop to my knees in front of him, then I undo his belt and pull down his jeans and boxer briefs.

He stands in front of me in all his glory, looking every bit the man he is. Anyone can see that Jimmy is beautiful on the outside, but not everyone knows how brightly his soul shines within.

I grip his hard cock at the base and jerk my hand up and down a few times to the sound of his quick gasps.

“I want to look at you,” he says, brushing a hand over my head and gazing down at me.

“I’m right here.”

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