Naked (18 page)

Violet felt the flush creep up her neck and settle in her cheeks. There was no hiding it.

“Since your face just turned bright red, I’m going to assume it felt good.”

“Holy shit.” The words tumbled out of her mouth on a sharp exhale. “It was the best sex I’ve ever had. Just like I’d always imagined it should be. Just like I’ve been told it should be.”

“I know the homework was to indulge your fantasy, but did you happen to…?”

Violet shook her head. “No. I didn’t show him my body.” She thought back to the parking lot. To the dim lights above and the traffic sounds all around them. The public subway station. “We weren’t really in a place for nakedness.”

“You are a kinky one, aren’t you, Violet.” Harper winked.

She waved Violet over to the makeup table then turned, flicking on the lights that lined the mirror. They were surprisingly blinding, but she assumed good lighting was the secret to good makeup application.

“If you were in a place for nakedness, would you have shown Noah your scars?”

There was no hesitation when Violet shook her head. “No.”

Harper nodded in understanding, a silent sympathy exchanging between them.

“Take off your shirt and pants.” Harper stepped aside, but she was still close enough that Violet smelled her perfume. A flowery scent that reminded her of weekends up at the family cottage by the lake.

She had no issue taking off her clothes in front of Harper. She rather liked the notion of being able to show someone her biggest vulnerability. Harper was a complete stranger, but she felt trustworthy.

The scarf was the first to come off. Then her jean jacket and black pants. When she removed the white graphic T-shirt she was startled. It never ceased to amaze her, the sheer magnitude of deformity on her skin.

When she was in nothing but her black lace bra and pink, cotton underwear, Harper stood behind her, looking over her shoulder. “Tell me something good about your body.”

Violet let out a snort. “You’re kidding, right?”

Harper glared. “Tell me something good about your body.”

She looked over her shoulder. The stern set to Harper’s jaw told her she
wasn’t
kidding.

Violet bit her bottom lip, taking in the line of her shoulders. The dip of her collarbone. The strong red lines of scarring that bisected her chest.

A year ago, she’d have no problem listing her many attributes, but today…

She lifted on her toes and assessed her body. “I have good hair.”

Harper crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s not a body part.”

Violet let out a hard breath and ran her hands through her only good attribute in frustration. “I can’t.” She gestured to her chest. “There’s nothing good about this.”

Harper clasped her hands around her biceps and pulled her back, increasing the amount of her body shown in the mirror.

“There’s nothing?”

She looked at her thighs. The memory of Noah’s hands between them. His constant appreciation of her legs. “My legs.” She looked up, meeting the gray eyes of the woman behind her. “Noah likes my legs.”

“He has good taste. You have killer legs.” She cocked her head. “And a nice rack.”

Violet snorted. “It’s not so nice anymore.” Because it was imperfect. Because her breasts had scars.

She turned her head in shame. Since the accident, she’d done her best not to prolong the amount of time she looked at herself in the mirror.

“Do you like eating ice cream?” Harper asked.

Violet couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Do I like eating…?”

Harper nudged her over and stood shoulder to shoulder. Then she pulled off her tank top. “I like eating ice cream.” She wasted no time pulling down her jeans. “I also like eating chips.”

Her black bra had tiny pink ribbons in the spot where strap met cup. Her matching panties had the same pink bow in the middle of the waistline.

“These hips are full of ice cream and chips.” She smiled. “I’m not going to stop eating the things I love just because society tells me I’ll get fat.” She rested her fists on her sides. “These hips are my favorite part of my body. They are far from a size two. Far from the standard.
Your
hips are what most women strive for.” She pointed at Violet with a look of indifference. “But mine—these are built for a man to hold on to.” Harper nudged her with her elbow. “I don’t know about you, but I liked getting fucked, and there is nothing sexier than waking up with bruises on your hips from the grip of a hot man the night before.”

Violet smiled. “As of a few nights ago, I think I like getting fucked, too.”

What would it be like to be so sure of the things that were supposed to make you feel bad about yourself? Harper was a beautiful woman. The most beautiful and confident woman she’d ever met. She was unconventional. Tattooed and curvy. Everything their world told them wasn’t supposed to be beautiful. But she’d give anything to switch bodies. To switch from what was once an almost perfect body now covered in scars to Harper’s colorful curviness.

“I think it’s time.”

Violet looked up, confused at her words.

“Your new homework assignment.” Harper slipped her tank top back on. “I want you to show one person your scars.”

Violet hung her head. “I don’t think I can show Noah.”

“Not Noah.” Harper pulled up her pants, zipping up the fly and buttoning them in place. “Someone from your past. Someone who loves you.”

It was weird that she’d gotten a tiny twinge of sadness at Harper’s reminder that Noah didn’t love her. Because he couldn’t love her. They’d only just met.

She knew her parents loved her, but her dad had enough going on with the diagnosis and her mother was so focused on trying to keep everything normal that she just didn’t want to go there.

If she was going to do this, there was only one choice. One person who would never judge. The woman who’d been her best friend since they’d been children. Roxy King.

Harper took her place beside Violet facing the mirror, a determined look in her eyes. “I’m going to prove that it doesn’t matter what
you
think those scars make you look like, because the people who love you, the ones who really count, won’t even see them. They’ll see you. Violet. The woman you’ve always been.”

She didn’t want to be that woman. She wasn’t that woman any longer. The accident had woken her up.

With the scars came a new Violet, a somewhat weaker version, but one who might be closer to finding out the type of woman she wanted to be.

Harper’s first lesson had been right on the money. So she was going to follow lesson number two without question, and finally remove some of the weight she’d been carrying on her shoulders.

Chapter 15

Noah glanced at his watch for the tenth time in the last five minutes.

She was late.

He picked up the sander he’d been using on the piece of wood that would soon become a kitchen cabinet, even though he’d promised to wait until Luke was able to come and help start the project. Sometimes he felt like he was taking advantage; with the growing popularity of the tattoo shop, Luke barely had any time to scruff up his hands anymore. But Luke, despite being busy, would show up whenever he could because he knew Noah was lonely living so far from his family and friends.

And he came without even being asked. That’s what happened when you were friends with someone for almost twenty years.

Noah ran the sandpaper down the length of the wood as the dust accumulated on the floor beneath him, thinking of the day with Violet and the munchkins. It had gone better than he’d expected. Better than the original plans he’d made to ravish her. Although they’d managed to get that in, too.

“Hello?” Violet’s soft voice carried from under the garage door. “Noah?”

“I’m in here.” He put down the sander and made his way to her.

“Sorry I’m late, I had—” She yelled just as he lifted the door all the way so he could see all of her. He’d seen her just a few days ago; it couldn’t be possible that she’d gotten more beautiful.

“I had something to take care of downtown.” She smiled, and it was contagious. A tiny flutter of excitement started in his stomach, but he feared it had nothing to do with how she looked and everything to do with her arrival. But she still looked damn good.

Tonight she was wearing jeans that cut at her calf and a white flowy shirt, but her neck was once again covered with a scarf. This time it was pale blue with little flowers embroidered into the fabric.

She attempted to look around him, which brought her closer. Electricity sparked between them, quicker than he could even acknowledge it. He knew she felt it, too, because she stepped back, hefting the reusable bag over her shoulder.

He wondered if there would ever come a day when her first instinct was not to shy away from the obvious connection between them.

“I brought treats and…” Reaching inside the bag and pulling out a six-pack of the beer they’d had at Wally’s on their first date.

He chuckled, grabbing the beer. “You really are developing a taste for beer.”

“I really am.”

He gestured for her to enter and stepped aside, giving her as much room as possible to pass him. Her scent surrounded him. She smelled like summer, like Coppertone and salty ocean air. He wanted to bury his nose in the spot where her neck met her shoulder and just inhale. Take her scent deep into his lungs and commit it to memory.

But he’d never seen her neck. Maybe he’d never see her neck.

“It’s so much easier than everything else,” she said, reminding him that they were actually having a conversation rather than him just ogling her body. “No shaking. No stirring. No mixing. It even comes with its own glass.”

Right. Beer.

She took a seat on the only chair in the garage, a vinyl lawn chair with a cup holder. “What are you doing in here?”

Out of the bag, she took out some chips and a container of onion dip. Two things were going to happen here. Either she had no intention of making this physical hence the onion dip, or she was so oblivious she didn’t care about her breath.

He hoped it was the latter.

“Just getting a head start on the cabinets for the kitchen.” He picked up the bottle opener he’d hung with a single nail on the wall.

“You can make cabinets?”

He popped the cap on two bottles from the six-pack and handed one over. “I can make a lot of things.”

“But why would you spend the time to make it when you can just buy it?”

The million-dollar question. Because he wanted his mother to have the best of everything. He wanted this house to be special for her. And buying everything would just make it the same as all the other houses in the surrounding subdivisions. But he wouldn’t tell her that. They’d made the deal to keep things light.

“I like doing it.” He picked up the piece of sandpaper and got back to it. “And I only buy what I can’t make myself.”

He returned to the piece of wood as he scraped the sandpaper across the hard surface.

She sat in silence, sipping on her beer as she watched him. When he snuck a peek, her eyes were glued to his biceps. He hadn’t been ashamed to admit that he liked her ogling him. Which was what had prompted him to fall off his roof in the first place. The least he could do was give her a good show. He swiped the sandpaper harder across the wood, making sure to strain his neck, the corded tendons under his skin tensing and jumping just like the muscles in his arms.

“I like that you can make something from nothing.”

He always said the same thing.

“It’s honest and…familiar.” Once again she sipped her beer.

He snuck another peek, curious at her words. He knew better than to ask, but he’d be lying if he said her acceptance of his ability to work with his hands wasn’t reassuring.

He returned to his work, moving the sander across the wood.

“You don’t ever have to work out, do you?” She cringed, an embarrassed look washing over her face.

He laughed. Her word vomit was adorable.

She continued to watch him, but the sander came to an abrupt halt when she blurted, “Your penis.”

He turned his head, catching her gaze and wasn’t surprised when she brought her hand to cover her mouth, crimson hitting her cheeks.

“I mean…” She giggled and spoke through her fingers. “Today was a good day and it’s because of the things we…what you did with your…” Her pointer finger jabbed in his direction. Actually, in the direction of his cock, which was getting hard now that the conversation had changed from home renovation to sex.

“I don’t suppose you want to tell me all about it?” He hoped that she’d tell him; every fun moment and happy feeling. Everything that made her smile, just like she was doing right now.

She actually thought it over, but it didn’t take long for her to dismiss the idea.

“Not…really, but I just wanted to thank you.” She tilted her head, contemplating. “That night when we bowled, and then the other day on the subway…I’d never done anything like that.”

They’d had sex twice now, both times resulting in outstanding orgasms on both sides. Well, at least he thought she was having outstanding orgasms. The look on her face and the full-body shake were usually good indications.

But she wasn’t the only one doing things out of the ordinary.

“To be honest, neither have I.”

He’d had sex in public spaces before. Like in a bedroom at a house party. Or even a car. But on the subway where anyone could walk through the doors, where there was probably a camera right on them, allowing the night shift transit workers to get off on their antics. That was definitely a first.

“Really?” She looked surprised.

“Violet, you’re not the only one who’s doing things out of character.” He shrugged it off. “I usually always have sex on the first date.” He locked eyes with her, and luckily she was perceptive enough to know he was joking.

They both laughed as he wiped his hands together, doing his best to get rid of the dust from the sandpaper. “You went after what you wanted. I admire that.”

There was so much more to this woman than met the eye. So much more he wanted to get to know, if she’d let him.