“So you see,” she said, “that’s why I don’t pull my hair up anymore.”
“This looks deep.” I gently prodded the wound. “What happened?”
She paused, then said, “I was cut.”
“I see that.” But… “What cut you?”
“A knife.”
“A knife,” I repeated. Things inside me went tense and alarmed. A knife had cut her…on the back of the neck? “Did it cut you on purpose?”
“Maybe,” she hedged, which totally meant yes.
Holy shit. Someone had gone after her with a knife. Why? Why would someone want to hurt Reese?
Protective rage roared through me. I wanted to damage whoever had hurt her, and I wanted to hit myself for not being there to shield her from this, all the while realizing I was the one exposing her to more danger right this very moment by merely being here in her presence.
When she shuddered against me, I pressed a kiss to the scar.
She murmured a regretful sound as I pulled away.
“If you don’t give away freebies,” she said, looking up at me, “then are you going to charge me for that?”
A spark of enraged pain roared through me at the reminder of what I was and why I shouldn’t even be here. But then… Shame flooded my bones, because I actually needed the prompt.
God, I was an ass. I was such an inconsiderate, idiot ass. I never should’ve even come here tonight to see her.
“No.” I kissed her scar yet again. “It wasn’t mouth to mouth, so no charge.”
She turned to me, her eyes full of agony and censure. “So if you kissed me, say, on the breasts, that would be free since it’s not mouth to mouth?”
Irritated that she was pressing this, I muttered, “No. That’s part of foreplay; it’s off-limits.”
Her gaze hardened. “And what you just did isn’t foreplay?”
No.
Maybe.
Yes.
Definitely.
“That was a friend comforting another friend,” I said, clenching my teeth because I knew I was lying to both of us. And it was obvious she knew it too.
“I see.” With a disappointed nod, she continued, “So, you weren’t about to kiss me—mouth to mouth—just before you discovered my scar?”
“Jesus.” I stepped away from her and ran a harassed hand through my hair. “Yes, okay. I almost kissed you. But I didn’t. Mistake averted. No harm done. We’re good.”
Except she said, “Are we?”
My mouth fell open. Why the hell was she so mad at me right now? Because I had almost kissed her? Or because I hadn’t? “What’re you saying, Reese?”
With a whimper, she closed her eyes and pressed a fist to her forehead. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. We can’t ever kiss or anything else, because you sleep with women for money. End of story.”
“Why do you always have to remind me of that?” I growled. “Trust me, I haven’t forgotten.”
Except for one brief, stupid moment, I kind of had.