Naked (12 page)

“How are these beautiful?” Violet looked down at her chest.

“You’re a survivor. You’ve overcome tragedy. You’ve been given a second chance to make a difference. To change your life.” Letting go of her hands, Harper reached out and let her finger hover over the scar on her chest. “It’s not that scars are ugly, it’s what they represent for you.” Then her finger traced the scar.

Violet’s breath caught as she continued to move her finger along the red line.

“Tons of people have scars, birthmarks, prosthetics. Do you think scars from a C-section are hideous? Do they make those mothers grotesque monsters?”

“No.”

Harper cocked her head, her eyes locking on hers. “So what’s the difference?”

“Those scars are from childbirth. They’re the result of a miracle.” Violet shook her head, lowering her eyes to the table. “Mine are the result of bad choices.”

“Violet.” Harper smoothed her hand over her shoulder. “We all have flaws. We all have things about us we don’t like. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t be human.”

She was right. Violet had spent the last few months hiding, biding her time before she had to return to the real world. Noah might be the ticket she needed in order to come out of her shell.

“It’s the associations we make about flaws that cause people to judge,” Harper continued. “He has no legs. Poor guy, he’ll never be able to do anything ever again.” Her hands waved about while she spoke. “She has a large birthmark on her face. Poor girl, she isn’t conventionally beautiful. She’ll never find a man and be happy.” Harper stared her down, determination set in her eyes. “I call bullshit.”

She had a point. The concept of ugliness was learned. My scars were ugly, because I had been taught to believe it. But agreeing with her wasn’t a magic elixir.

“So how do I stop this? How do I get over this?”

“I want you to go home and indulge in one of your sexual fantasies. Something that you’ve been afraid to try, afraid to ask for, afraid you’d be judged about.”

“You’re just giving me homework so your friend will get laid.” Violet turned her nose up, faking indifference. “What makes you think I’d pick him anyway?”

“It certainly seems that way.” Harper laughed, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “But your fantasy could be masturbating in a public place for all I know. It doesn’t have to involve anyone else.” She grinned, taking a sip of her drink. “And let’s not bullshit each other. I saw the way you looked at him. You’ve got it bad.”

Harper was so easy to talk to. Violet was in her bra, scars exposed, talking about regular girl things. Like they were old friends and had known each other for years.

“Indulge that fantasy and then come back and tell me how it made you feel.”

“That’s all?” Violet’s face scrunched in confusion. “You’re not going to tell me to show my scars? To have a good cry over it?”

“Nope.” Harper cocked her head. “At least not today.”

Sex. Not scars. Interesting concept.

With her homework assignment on the brain, Violet put her clothes back on.

“You’re going to come back and see me, right?” Harper eyed her expectantly.

“Definitely.” She stood in front of the mirror and put her armor—the scarf—back in place. “Next time I’ll even make an appointment.”

Harper grabbed a business card from her purse. “Call me if you need to talk.”

She acknowledged the very attractive man on her way out, but before she got to the bottom of the stairs, her phone buzzed in her purse. Reaching into the Marc Jacobs bag, she pulled out her phone and saw Noah’s name. She entered her password and clicked on the text message icon.

Get your game face on. I’ll pick you up at eight.

And maybe this time it’ll be your hands behind your back.

Her mouth dropped and excitement coiled in her stomach at the thought of being bound, Noah working his magic on her body.

She had thought that not texting him would give her time to get her thoughts together. To visit Harper and see what she was all about.

She wanted him. It had been so long since she’d felt the press of a man’s skin against her own. But what if her scars were a deal breaker? What if they turned him off? So much so that he didn’t want to touch her.

But she didn’t need to worry about that. Showing her scars was not her homework.

At least not tonight.

She had many sexual fantasies. The question now was: Which one was she going to pick?

Chapter 9

Noah had waited all day for this moment. This was a date, but not really a date. He didn’t have to roll out the red carpet because the only expectation was sex. Eventually.

Violet wanted to take things slow. So he was going to be a gentleman and honor her request. Tonight he’d keep it in his pants.

Unless she wanted to take out his cock and jerk it to orgasm. Again. He had no problem with that.

He picked her up at her door and drove the twenty minutes south to the closest bowling alley.

When he drove into the parking lot, she craned her neck, looking out the windshield to the bright red-and-white sign. The flashing bowling pin being knocked down by a ball had given away his surprise.

“We’re going bowling?” Was that excitement in her voice?

He glanced at her in the passenger seat. His eyebrow lifted in surprise. “So this is a good choice?”

“Definitely. Not really much opportunity to bowl in private school.”

Once again, she’d given away a tiny glimpse into her past. He lived for these moments. He wanted nothing more than to piece together the puzzle that was Violet.

“You know, if we’re going to be…” She let her words trail off, but he wasn’t going to help her. If she wanted to have a casual sexual relationship, she was going to have to say the words.

When it was apparent, she was on her own, she continued, “Having…doing it. I don’t expect dates.”

“You thought I would just knock on your door, take my clothes off, and let you sit on my cock?”

She giggled. “Well…yeah.”

Noah laughed. “What can I say, I’m a gentleman like that.”

She cocked her head to the side, her eyelashes fluttering up at him. “I thought that’s how flings worked.”

He leaned forward, letting his hand curl around her thigh. “Is that what you want? To just take our clothes off right here in the truck and fuck?”

Her breath caught and her eyes widened. Not in fear, but in excitement. “Maybe later.”

He would so be up for that. But for Noah, this was more than just about sex. This was a chance not to be alone. One less night of having the walls talk to him.

“Are you ready for a night you’ll never forget?”

She smiled. “Do I get to wear the shoes?”

He laughed. “Unfortunately, yes.” Her eyes lit up with his answer. She was probably the only person in the world excited about the possibility of contracting a foot disease.

They walked in and Noah paid the rental fee. He recognized a few men from the bar in town, and nodded as they made their way to their lane. They both sat down to put on the shoes.

“These are so hideous.” She giggled when she spoke. “And I love them.”

Considering she was here in an outfit that probably cost hundreds of dollars, a purse that had a familiar double
C
clasp and another scarf with matching
C’
s, her excitement was surprising. He wondered if the scarf was a fashion statement, one that told the world she was straight-laced and maybe a little uptight, or if there was more to its story.

She held out her foot and showed off her shoe. “My mother wouldn’t be caught dead in this place, and my father—while he wouldn’t turn up his nose, the golf club doesn’t have a bowling alley.”

“I think that is the most you’ve ever disclosed about yourself.”

“Wasn’t really about me, was it?” She grinned.

Touché. “You’re right. I still know nothing about you.” He reached out, resting a hand on her thigh. “But I’d like to.”

She shook her head, trying to scramble away from him but he held firmly on to her leg. “That’s not what this is about,” she said.

The mystery surrounding this woman was like catnip. He couldn’t resist. He wanted to know her secrets. But the more he knew, the more committed he became and she was right, that’s not what this was about.

He was done prying. At least for tonight.

“You enter our names into the system and pick a ball.” He gestured to the shelf to the left that held a variety of colors and sizes for her to choose from. “I’ll get us some refreshments.”

He grabbed them an order of fries and a couple of beers.

Violet waited for him, sitting with her hands tucked between her thighs, taking in the sights around her. Her sense of wonder never failed to amaze him. How simple everyday things like drinking, bowling, and gathering with friends astonished her. She took in every sight and sound. Every moment was catalogued. He could tell just by the way her eyes darted from one thing to the next.

“Here we are.” He handed her a beer and she grabbed it, taking a huge swallow.

“I think I might be developing a taste for this stuff.”

“Did you pick a ball?”

She pulled her top lip between her teeth. “I don’t know how.”

He rolled his head toward the shelf, coaxing her over.

She went right for the pink ball. “I want this one. It’s pretty.”

“It might be a little heavy for you.” As a beginner, she needed the lightest ball possible.

“But this is the only pink one.” She looked like someone had kicked her puppy. Had she ever had a puppy? He might never know.

“Do you want to win? Or do you want to be fashionable?”

Someone cracked the tenpins in their lane. Whistles and screams erupted around them.

“Win.” Her shoulders slumped and she accepted defeat.

“Then grab that blue one.”

Just for kicks, he grabbed the pink one. “But you…” She scowled. “Oh, it’s on.”

Just as when they’d played pool, she hummed while taking her shot. Occasionally, she’d even take the shot on her tiptoes. But this time her superstitions did nothing to help her.

Eight frames later, he was winning and Violet was not happy. She cursed at the top of the alley. She even did a cute little foot stomp that reminded him of his niece, Ariel.

“You really don’t like losing, do you?”

“I don’t have much occasion to lose.” She’d kicked his ass at pool. Held her own at Would You Rather, although there really were no winners in that game.

“You think maybe your boyfriends went easy on you?”

She looked at him with disgust. “Absolutely not.”

What kind of douches did she date that didn’t even let her win once or twice?

“I won on my own merit because I had to. That’s how I proved myself.”

From the few times they’d spent together, he got the impression she had a lot to prove.

He dropped his beer and made his way to her at the top of the lane. Tension rolled off her, washing over him as he got closer. He put his hand on her left shoulder, gently squeezing. He placed his other hand over her hand that held the bowling ball.

“Keep your eyes on the pins, and don’t look down. Bring your arm back.” She did as he’d asked. She let his hand hover over hers. “Now step forward.” He shadowed her, her warm body just an inch away from his. “And release.” The ball dropped with a graceful thud, much smoother than her previous attempts.

It rolled down the alley, this time straight down the middle. They watched from over her shoulder, his pelvis pressing into her.

She turned her head slightly and her warm breath caressed his chin when she spoke, “Remember when you asked if we should take our clothes off in the truck and fuck?” She leaned back, pressing their bodies tighter together. Any closer and she’d be feeling the effects of the change in the air between them. “Well…I think I’d like to do that.”

He swallowed hard. Damn her.

“I thought you wanted to take this slow?” He was ready for slow. He wasn’t prepared for quick and dirty.

“We have.” Her breath got heavy. “One orgasm ago.”

“Are you sure?” He felt a thousand eyes piercing them, making him suddenly uncomfortable. Good thing this was adult bowling night. Although indecent exposure was the same crime whether there were kids around or not.

Not to mention, they hadn’t even paid attention to how her shot played out.

“You think I need a comfortable bed and missionary? I’ve already had that, and it was truly underwhelming.”

Everything clicked into place. She was running away from an old relationship. Trying to erase the memory of bad sex. If it was a good fucking she wanted, then he was just the man to give it to her.

She let out a tiny huff and he felt the loss of her body heat as soon as she stepped away.

“Why are you hedging?” She said it without looking up. “Do you not want to have sex with me?”

He sidestepped to face her, pulling her to a stop in front of him. That statement couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Yes. I want to fuck you.” He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her against him until their lips were almost touching. “I’m
going
to fuck you.”

Openly discussing how they wanted to fuck was new territory even for him. “But I want to take my time. Explore every inch of your body.”

She shivered, looking up at him with surprise and excitement. A look of wonder. That look was going to be his undoing if he wasn’t careful.

“This is how it’s supposed to be, isn’t it?” she whispered, running her nose along his jaw.

“How what’s supposed to be?”

He waited for an answer, but she wasn’t willing to elaborate. No skin off his nose. He was perfectly capable of steering them in the right direction.

“You want sex in a car?”

She nodded.

“So many possibilities.” He made an interested hum. “Should I bend you over the front seat and smack that pretty ass until I can see my handprint.” He grabbed her bottom and squeezed. Her response was a breathless “yes
.
” “Or maybe I should take you into the cab, spread you open, and settle myself into your pussy.” His hand made its way from her bottom and he dipped his fingers under the waistband of her tiny skirt to prove a point. Once again, “yes” floated in the air on a whisper. “Or maybe I should let you do all the work. Maybe…” His other hand reached up and pushed her hair away from her face. She gasped when he made contact. “Maybe I should just sit back and let you ride my cock.”