His poor, sweet Elise. Rome moved forward to touch her, and at the brush of his fingers against her shoulder, she shuddered. “You look perfect to me,” he told her. He didn’t care that her h*ps weren’t straight, or that she had a scar. Hell, he was covered in tattoos and piercings, all so he could look rough enough to fit in and not get his ass kicked in prison.
“That’s just it, though. My back was fixed, and as soon as I could convince my parents, I had my cheek taken care of. But every time I look in the mirror . . .” She swallowed hard.
He could guess. “You still see the girl with the back brace and the stain on your cheek?”
She nodded. “I just . . . it still bothers me, even though I know it shouldn’t. And I guess that’s why I’m shy. Because I don’t think people see me, they see . . . you know.” She swallowed. “The freak.”
Rome’s fingers touched the top of her scar at the base of her neck, and then trailed down, brushing the curve of her back. “Nope, I get it. You get told you’re something often enough, and you start to believe it. It doesn’t matter how much you change on the outside, you can’t quite let go of what used to be. I get that. I really do.”
She said nothing, but the breath she let go was shaky.
He touched her hip, the scar there. “I get the other one, but what’s this for?”
“When they put the metal rods in your back, they take bone from your hip and graft it. You get two scars for the price of one.” She looked at him over her shoulder and her mouth quirked in a half smile. “Lucky, right?”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” he said. “If you ever wanted to get a tattoo over this, you just let me know. I’d hold your hand the entire time.” He skimmed his fingers up her back again. “Not that you aren’t pretty how you are.”
She shivered under his touch, and the towel shifted a bit. “You don’t think it’s . . . weird? My shoulders aren’t even. My clothes don’t hang right.”
“Baby,” he said softly, leaning in to press a kiss at the base of her exposed neck. “The only thing I notice about your clothes is how fast I want to get you out of them.”
Her breath shuddered again. “God, Rome. You’re incredible for a girl’s self-esteem, you know that?”
“I don’t care about girls,” he told her, brushing aside another tendril of hair so he could kiss her neck from behind once more. “I care about you. Only you, Elise.”
She shuddered as he licked at the curve of her neck, and her hands trembled on the towel.
His hand moved to the front of it, pulling at her fingers where she held it closed, clutched to her. And she released it slowly.
The towel dropped to the ground at her feet, and Elise stood before him, naked.
She was beautiful. No matter how much she questioned it, there was never any doubt in his mind that seeing Elise gloriously na**d would be memorable. He’d seen flashes of skin here and there, and he’d been intimately acquainted with the flesh between her thighs, but seeing the entire picture was different. Her eyes were wide, and her breathing rapid, her body clearly panicking despite his comforting words.
“Can I look at you?” he asked, brushing his knuckles over her cheek. “Or would you rather I turn the lights off?”
She took in a deep breath. “No, it’s okay. You . . . can look.”
He would. It was more important that she relax first. He brushed his fingers up and down her arms, trying to comfort her. She shivered at his touch, and her neck tilted, as if she were trying to get a better look at him. He leaned in and kissed her jaw. “Can I look while we lie down?”
She blinked, then nodded.
He took her hand and led her to the bed. He ignored her trembling. It’d go away soon enough, once she started feeling half as aroused as he was. Hell, he was so hard he was surprised his boxers hadn’t flown apart.
Elise sat down on the edge of the bed, her body tense. Rome sat next to her and touched her jaw, moving her face toward his. Then he kissed her, ever so gently. Her mouth was tight under his, and he licked and coaxed at her mouth, trying to convince her to open up. Maybe he should have let her have a few more beers after all—Elise was locked down and tense as could be.
But after a few kisses, her mouth softened, her lips parting under his ministrations, and he began to kiss her more deeply, licking at her mouth. His tongue slid slowly in and out of her lips, the motion a deliberate mimic of what he was going to do to her later, and she made a soft noise of pleasure in her throat. Her hand lifted, hesitated, and then landed on his shoulder.
Progress. Rome tried not to feel triumphant as she relaxed against him. His hands continued to touch and stroke her jaw and shoulders, his touch safe and soothing. He wanted her hair down, though, so he pulled it free of its bun and it slid around her shoulders like a silky, dark curtain that made him groan. “I love your hair,” he murmured against her mouth.
She gave a soft sigh against his lips, her mouth opening just a bit wider in invitation of his kiss.
That’s right, he thought encouragingly. Open up for me.
He made his kisses hungrier, more aggressive, until his tongue was openly f**king her mouth. Soft whimpers rose in her throat, whimpers of need, and she continued to kiss him passionately, responding to his touch. Elise wanted him; she was just nervous and not wanting to make a fool of herself. He suspected that part of her still waited for him to be disgusted with the way she looked, and somehow turn her away.
It was time to soothe that ridiculous fear of hers.
Between kisses, Rome buried his hands in her hair and began to speak slowly. “Been thinking about this for days now,” he told her. “My tongue inside that pretty mouth of yours, licking that gorgeous skin, on your br**sts, your belly, everywhere.”
She moaned at his words, the look in her eyes soft.
“I remember your taste from the other day, in the studio,” he told her, and stopped kissing her for a moment so he could see her reaction to his words. “Sometimes I close my eyes and think I can still taste you in my mouth, your thighs against my face. Fucking sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”
Her eyelashes fluttered at his words, and she gasped. “Rome,” she whispered.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Kiss me.”
His finger trailed down her neck, brushed over her collarbone. Her skin was so pale, but she was beautiful. Everywhere, she was beautiful. He wanted to stare at those gorgeous, tight little br**sts, but there’d be time enough for that. “Where do you want me to kiss you, baby?”