“Well, what’s in the cooler?” I ask rubbing my hands together.
I was too nervous to eat after lunch so I’m excited to see what he packed.
“Now, I can’t cook for anything so my mom whipped us up something,” he says, smiling at me sheepishly.
I can’t help but chuckle.
“Well thank you for that because food poisoning on a first date wouldn’t be the impression either of us would want to make,” I say and he laughs.
“Exactly,” he says as he sets out what looks like chicken breasts, roasted potatoes, and a Greek salad.
We sit closely together and eat while making small talk.
It’s easy to talk to him and I don’t know what I was so nervous about.
The difference between our usual banter and this is that we keep throwing each other heated glances and that he wraps an arm around me part way through the meal.
When we are finished, he puts our plates and cups into the cooler.
“A prospect will pick it up when we leave,” he says and sits back.
“Okay,” I say suddenly shy.
“Why don’t you come sit over here and we can enjoy the sunset together,” he says, gesturing for me to sit in between his legs.
I blush the whole time I am doing it but, once I am in place and he wraps his arms around me, I can’t help the sigh of contentment that leaves my lips.
No words are spoken for a long time as we sit there and enjoy each other’s company.
This feels more right than anything I have ever imagined.
Tyson places a light kiss behind my ear and I can’t help but shiver.
“Camilla,” he says in a low, husky voice.
“Tyson,” I say back.
“I’m glad we did this,” he says. I turn my head to look at him and the look he gives me has me leaning in and placing a light kiss on his lips.
It doesn’t take long before he takes over the kiss and places a hand in my hair to keep me where he wants me.
The feel of his tongue against mine, and the way I feel with his arms around me, has me floating on air. He has one hand in my hair and the other around my back.
When we pull back, I move so that I can straddle his hips. He doesn’t waste any time and bringing his lips back to mine.
His hands move to my hips and up my back to pull me closer.
I get lost in the feeling and find myself grinding on top of him.
When I feel his hand move under my shirt and around my back like he wants to touch my bare skin, I can’t help but freeze when he brushes against a scar. The one that haunts my dreams.
He stills and pulls back.
“Camilla, fuck baby. I’m sorry. I don’t want to rush you,” he says looking concerned.
I shake my head. “It’s not that.”
He tilts his head in confusion and looks at me. “Then what is it?”
I blow out a breath and decide if I want to tell him right now. Would he think that they were ugly and just finish our date off then and there?
“Camilla, you can tell me whatever it is,” he says. I look in his eyes and he is looking completely sincere.
Here goes nothing.
“Well, I have some scars and they are ugly and hate them. You just touched one and it reminded me of the damage that was done to my body,” I say.
He doesn’t say anything for so long that I worry he’s going to change his mind about us and everything I had come to hope for in the last few hours.
“Can I see them?” he says quietly.
I look at him with tears welling in my eyes. “They are ugly.”
“Nothing about you is ugly,” he says without hesitation.
I’m thankful that he gives me a few moments like he knew that’s what I was waiting for.
I decide to just get it over with. If he doesn’t like them then it’s better to know now than later when I have let myself completely fall for him.
I lift up my shirt, taking it off before I can second guess myself, and squeeze my eyes shut so that I can’t see the look of disgust on his face.
That would completely break me.
Tyson “Torch”
I hold my breath as Camilla takes off her shirt and squeezes her eyes closed.
When her eyes are closed, I look down at her body.
She’s wearing a lacy, dark green bra, but that’s not what has my attention.
No, it’s the knife marks around her chest.
They are completely intentional, I can see that, and I have a pretty good idea who left them.
I lightly touch them. I can see that some are older and some are still healing from around the time she got out.
When my eyes travel down to her stomach where my hand brushed, anger immediately consumes me.
Right down the side of her body is the name, “Reaper.”
That fucker thought he could mark her.
Seeing this makes me want to find the fucker and give him the slow, painful death that he has been waiting for.
They are deep, and it looks like he made sure that she felt as much pain as she could.
“See, they are ugly,” she says and, when I look at her, she’s staring at me with tears in her eyes.
I shake my head.
“They make me angry that someone could hurt you like this. To think of the pain that you have been through and have felt when he did this to you. I want to find the fucker and make him beg for death. They also show me what a
