Why was she looking at me like that? What did she want?
“Zachary,” she whispered.
It was too much. She was too close and too—
I lifted my hands to push her away, except when they wrapped around the top of her arms, it was as if they had a mind of their own. Time seemed to stop as my fingers caressed the smooth, silky skin not covered by her T-shirt, the warmth of her burning through my fingers to my very core. My arms flexed as they dragged her closer until our faces were almost touching. Her hands held tightly to my loose sweater, bunching the fabric in her small fists so hard, I knew the cuts on her palms would reopen. I knew her blood would seep into the material, forever staining it with her essence. It didn’t matter; I couldn’t let go of her. I held her so close it was as if I was trying to mold her into my skin and make her part of my body. Her hot breath washed over my face, and I could hear my own ragged, harsh breaths filling the room.
Still, neither of us said a word as we stared, clutching and holding each other, the heat between us burning brighter every second that passed. A small whimper escaped her lips, a pleading, needy sound and I was lost. My mouth covered hers roughly and I jerked her flush to me, not allowing a sliver of space between us. I groaned into her wet, warm mouth as I felt her hands slip into my hair, holding me close to her face. Her tongue was like silk on mine as we caressed and tasted, our tongues stroking and entwining. The taste of her was as sweet as I knew it would be, her lips as soft and her effect on me crippling. I plunged my hands into her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, directing her where I needed her to go with my touch. Megan gripped me tighter as I claimed her, needing and wanting more. Her heart hammered powerfully in her chest, so I knew she could feel mine as well. Small sounds from deep in her throat filled my ears as I ravished her mouth, lost in the heat and wonder that was Megan.
Her hands moved restlessly, stroking and tugging on my hair, and I growled in approval as she pressed closer. I slipped my hand under her shirt, settling wide across the warm skin of her back, caressing and teasing as she whimpered again. I hardened with want, pressing into her heat as she gasped and arched to me. I smiled into her mouth, breaking away only to fill my lungs, before capturing her swollen lips with mine again, unable to stay away. It was as though I was under her spell; she wove her magic around me, drawing me into a world of heat and passion.
It was then I felt it, though. Her hand slipped from my hair. She tenderly cupped my face; her fingers ghosting, light as air, over my marred, twisted skin. The feeling of her gentle touch was so intense—aside from my own hand, my face hadn’t been touched by another person since before I’d been scarred, and I jerked away in shock.
Megan stilled, looking up at me from hooded eyes, her hand frozen midair, much like the day I had seen her at the gallery. Her chest was heaving, her hair still clutched in my fist as she stared up at me, confused. Her mouth was glistening and swollen from mine, her cheeks flushed a delicious pink—she looked beautiful.
Too beautiful for me.
That reality crashed around me, and with a roar I pushed her away. She stumbled back, hitting the chair, her hand covering her mouth as she looked on in fear.
Now she was afraid.
I said nothing. I could offer nothing. Rushing past her, I headed for the staircase and I tore up the stairs as if the hounds of hell were pursuing me, not stopping until I reached the sanctuary of my studio. I slammed the door behind me so hard, the paintings resting on the wall moved with the force of the action. I stood, leaning back into the door, my breath coming out in loud, ragged gasps. My hand pressed hard over my scarred cheek—the same one she had so gently caressed moments ago.
I wondered how repulsed she’d been when she had felt the twisted, hard scar tissue covering my face. The long, jagged scars and roughened skin, which served as a reminder to me daily of what I had lost. The words that had been screamed at me as my flesh burned and seared.
Now people can see you’re as ugly on the outside as you are on the inside!
Panic filled my chest and I bent over, clutching my knees, as it bloomed and tightened. I dragged in shallow gasps of air, trying to calm and center myself, as I fought against the memories threatening to swamp me. I attempted to find another, better memory as I buried my face into my hands, struggling to breathe. Megan’s scent hit me; its floral fragrance on my skin lingering from where I had my fingers wrapped in her thick hair. Greedily I inhaled, the scent calming me enough I could relax and lift my head. I straightened up and pushed off the door, flicking on the lights.