All of Me (Confessions of the Heart 2)

He brushed back a lock of hair at the side of my face, his mouth taking its spot, the heat of his lips caressing across my skin. “I’m the devil.”

There was no lightness in it.

No playful caress.

It was bitter and hard and ugly.

This was the guy who’d first propositioned me at the bar that night. The one who’d outright warned that the only thing he wanted was to use me, fine with the idea of someone using him.

But I was coming to the quick realization that guy was really the illusion. A mask that wasn’t real. Bred for cover and protection.

“I don’t believe you,” I whispered.

Because I’d already seen it—something good. A flash of vulnerability.

He leaned in closer, sliding his hand across the fabric until our fingertips were touching. “You should.”

I gulped and pushed out the words, barely heard as they fell from my tongue, “And what about the guy who asked me for a chance? For someone to believe in him? The guy who wants to be worth it?”

Ian angled his head, his voice the rasp of a murmur across my cheek. “He’s praying you won’t hate him when you really get to know him.”

His breaths came out in pants, mingling with mine.

It was crazy, the way sensation went streaking through my body.

My nerves alive.

I felt as if I hadn’t been able to breathe for a long, long time.

And suddenly, I felt as if my lungs were expanding. Filling full. Saturated with his presence.

Taking a chance, I let my fingertips trail across his plush lips. “We all have secrets, Ian. Mistakes that we’ve made. We all have reasons not to step out and take the chance. But just the fact that you’re sitting here reveals the part of you who wants to be better. The guy who wants something more. Because I don’t believe for a second that you don’t have anything to offer. That there is anything cruel about you. I think you’re just scared.”

I realized it right then . . . that’s what I’d seen beneath that harsh, brazen exterior.

“You think you know all that from the few times that we’ve talked?” It was a hard, savage defense.

I inhaled, my heart a clatter in my chest, affection coming on fast. Just the way I knew that it would. So quick to get attached.

Craving the feeling he incited.

The feeling as if I could maybe be important. Something more than waste. And I was certain he needed to know he was important, too.

I could feel my fractured heart splintering a little more, opening up to make him room.

“I see you . . . looking so flashy in your expensive suit. So proud. Covering something broken inside.”

I touched the tattoo that peeked out from the cuff on his wrist, as if the design were dripping sorrow, mourning for something unseen.

The demon.

And I wondered what could have possibly gone so wrong in his life that he’d ever think himself evil.

I was overcome by the urge to peel back his shirt, push it from his shoulders, explore and discover.

“Am I wrong?” I pushed.

His thick throat rolled. “No.” He fiddled with a piece of my hair. “No, Angel Girl, you’re not. Maybe that’s what scares me the most.”

His teeth gritted. “But it’s those broken parts you recognize inside me that make me who I am. They are what make me cruel. I learned as a little boy that the only person I could look out for was myself. Learned it was the only way to survive. I’ve done horrible things, Grace.”

Shame passed across his face, and his voice dipped, churning with grief. “Things that haunt me. And still, I know at the root of me, that I will continue to do whatever it takes to survive. I look out for myself. The only people who get any part of me, who hold any part of my heart, are my brother and his family and Mack. That’s it. They are the only people I know I can rely on. They’re the only people I have space for. The only people I can trust.”

If it was possible, he got closer.

Winding and winding. Drawing me in.

“And then there’s you. This girl who I don’t even know who I feel like I might fight to the death to keep.”

Tears gathered in my eyes.

Why was I close to crying?

But sometimes we all needed to be held. Supported. Fought for. I let my fingertips run down the side of his gorgeous face. “And what if you don’t like the parts of me that you don’t know?”

He gripped my hand, his lips to my knuckles, kissing them softly.

I sucked in a breath, so close to coming undone right there.

“I don’t think there’s anything you could tell me that would make me unwant you.”

There was the threat of a smile.

A hint of seduction.