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With my clothes scattered on the floor, I stood in front of him, completely naked while he remained fully clothed.
The power dynamic should’ve made me feel weak, vulnerable. But no woman could feel weak or vulnerable when a man looked at them the way Colby looked at me.
Like I was a majestic creature rising from the ashes.
Colby’s steps were measured as he crept toward me. Even though there wasn’t much distance between us and his strides were long, it seemed to take minutes for him to reach me.
My knees were trembling when he stopped in front of me, the leather of his cut brushing against my naked skin.
Colby’s eyes stayed on mine as his hand ran down the length of my stomach, tenderly, slowly. Dread raced through me as his fingertips ran over the raised skin of my scars.
I was getting better at coping with his hands on them. Better being I didn’t break out in a cold sweat, and my heart didn’t threaten to beat out of my chest. Colby knew this. He had been patiently coaxing me into enjoying his touch, even the places I considered forbidden, dead.
“You wear the clothes you love again.” He knelt in front of me to place his lips against my scars.
I held my breath.
Colby knew that I was frozen beneath his touch, but he acted as if all was well. It helped, somehow. His hands were firm at my hips, keeping me upright, keeping me anchored to the earth.
“But I’ve noticed you do not show this.” His tongue trailed my belly button.
I was no longer frozen, my body writhing, battling between rapture and panic.
“Is it for you, or is it for them?” he asked, looking up at me.
I gazed down through hooded eyes. “What do you mean?”
He kissed another scar. “If it is for you, covering these up because you can’t handle it, that I can accept.” His lips trailed from one puckered mark to another. “But if you hide these because you don’t want to make other people uncomfortable, that I can’t accept.”
I frowned at him and tried to move, too uncomfortable, but he gripped me too hard.
His eyes bore into mine. “Who is it for, baby?”
I struggled to pull in a complete breath. “If I wore the clothes I used to, people would stare, people would ask questions.”
Colby’s eyes narrowed, anger taking over his expression. “Anyone stares, they deal with me. And trust me, no one will utter a fucking word about your gorgeous body when I’m around.”
“What about when you’re not?” I whispered, hating how fucking small and weak I sounded.
“Then, my love, they will answer to you.” He spoke as if the answer were obvious. “You spit fire, poppet. You’re born from it.”
I studied Colby. He believed that. He really believed that.
“How about you take your clothes off, outlaw,” I purred, unwilling to take this conversation further. “I think, after tonight, I need to be fucked hard and dirty.”
My evasion tactic worked. Colby, though determined to help heal me, was a slave to his own need for me, just like I was to him.
We didn’t talk about heavy stuff the rest of the night.
And the next day, I wore a crop top.
An emergency girl meeting had been called.
Apparently.
I thought I was just coming to Violet’s for drinks.
Not for a summit with every Old Lady in attendance.
Worse, it seemed like Colby had known. I’d scowled at him in accusation when he’d walked into the kitchen and announced that he and Elden were leaving on ‘club business.’ He’d just shrugged, kissed me firmly then left.
The traitor.
Normally, I loved hanging out with all the women. They were interesting and fucking wild. There was never a dull moment with them.
But I didn’t think the plan was to have a wild night.
This was a ‘check the state of Sariah’s mind’ summit.
“I’m fine,” I announced the second we’ve all settled down, thankfully with cocktails, in Violet’s large family room.
There was an impressive array of snacks, a great looking cheeseboard that I really wanted to dive into, but first I had to let all these women know I wasn’t about to have a breakdown.
“Honey, you don’t have to be fine,” Kate said softly.
“We can set her car on fire,” Macy offered hopefully.
Arson, yes, that was a good idea. Much more appetizing than a circle jerk. “I’m going to reserve the right to take you up on that offer at a later date.”
Macy held up her drink. “Just let me know the time and place, I’ll bring the gasoline.”
“Though it’s tempting, we can’t set fire to her car,” Caroline muttered sadly. “I’ve done my due diligence. She’s a respected journalist. A good one too. Which means she wouldn’t let a little car bomb shy her away from the story. In fact, that’s a surefire way to tell her there is a story.”
