Hating You, Loving You (Inked Hearts 4)

I wear clothes better.

I get more attention from guys.

But these fake tits don't feel like mine. They feel like they belong to someone else. To some woman who laughs at cancer. Who scampers around the beach in bikinis. Who drinks mimosas with brunch.

Not to me.

I'm the weird, artsy girl without a curve to her name.

I'm all skin and bone (and a little muscle).

I'm not a centerfold.

But these…

It was weird, coming out of recovery and suddenly turning heads.

I tried to revel in it. I tried to use it to my advantage. To date guys who used to be out of my league. To get free drinks and entrance to clubs (not that I liked them).

But it never felt right.

None of the guys felt right.

None set me on fire.

Or tempted me to tear my clothes off.

There's no reason why I can't feel desire. I still have my nipples. My hormones are normal. I'm not depressed. At least, not anymore.

But I can't find that deep need in my core.

That if I don't have it now, I'll die.

If I don't come now, I'll die.

But Dean…

He wakes up the part of me that's been dormant.

Because I had him before?

Because I want him now?

I don't know.

It doesn't matter.

Maybe I should listen to my body for once.

But my mind and heart are diametrically opposed to the cocky playboy.

Chapter Eight

Dean

Friday night, I stop Ryan on his way out the door. "Chloe was a good call."

"No shit." He stares at me in that Ryan kind of way. Assessing my intentions. Picking me apart. "What the hell are you up to?"