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She glances at me over her shoulder. “You’re not going to keep badgering me with questions?”
“Do you want me to?”
“No.” She shifts to the edge of the bed. “I’ll be right back.”
I wrap my hand around her arm, stopping her. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers, misery and defeat clinging to her voice.
I inch closer and wrap my arms around her waist, dragging her into the middle of the bed. “Then stay here and let me hold you.” I kiss her cheek, furious with myself for starting this. “I think every inch of you is beautiful, Emily.”
That apparently wasn’t the reassurance she was looking for. She tries to pull away but I hold on tight.
Her jaw clenches. “I don’t care about the scars. I barely notice them anymore. They’re just there.” She rubs her fingertips over her chest. “Like freckles or something.”
“They’re not that noticeable.”
She scowls even harder. I really should shut the fuck up.
“They remind me of what a dumbass I was when I was younger,” she says with the heat of self-loathing.
I choke on the weight of her words. “I’m familiar with that feeling,” I say, releasing her.
She turns, tucking her leg underneath her so she can face me.
“Do you really want to hear this?”
Her volatile response has me prepared for the worst. “If you want to tell me.”
“I think I’ve told you my parents were kind of strict with me. Having me so young didn’t inspire them to give me much of a sex education. They only told me, ‘don’t.’”
I snort at the absurdity. “Not an effective plan for curious teenagers.”
“Nope,” she agrees with a bitter edge. “So I was trying to discover my sexuality and craved male attention more than I should have.” She drops her gaze to her lap. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”
“I want to know you,” I say.
She blows out an irritated breath. “I’mnotthat girl anymore.”
“Believe me, I understand.” I’m not the shy, gullible teenager I once was, either.
“So, I thought I was soadventurousand liberated.” She curls her fingers into air quotes to go along with the sarcastic tone. “Game for anything and everything, because that’s what boys like, right?”
She’s not really asking for an answer, so I wisely keep my mouth shut.
“All I did was attract a weirdo who wanted to hurt me so he could get off.”
I blink and stare at her. “What?”
“Sick asshole. He called knife play hiskink.I thought that was so cool and edgy.” She curls her lip in disgust. “He swore the endorphins would be thebest orgasm ever. It wasnot.”
“How old were you?”
“Eighteen.”
I have a feeling I won’t like the answer to my next question. “How old washe?”
She glances away. “Twenty-eight. But we met when I was seventeen. I didn’t realize…Well, it doesn’t matter now.”
