Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Jasmine

Liam watches me warily. “Sure. Just let me put these away.” He opens the linen closet door and neatly shelves the towels and washcloths. After he closes the door, he turns to face me. “So, what would you like to talk about?”

“The other night. When you kissed me.”

His eyes widen. “Okay. I’d like to talk about that too. Would you like to get dressed first?” He glances down at my bathrobe. “Would you feel more comfortable—”

“No. That’s not necessary. Um—”

He waits patiently while I search for the words.

“I’m sorry I freaked out on you the other night when you kissed me. No one’s ever kissed me before, and it caught me off guard. I guess I panicked.”

“You’ve never been kissed?”

I shake my head. “No.” At the surprised look on his face, I add, “I never let clients kiss me. You were my first, and I didn’t handle it very well. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you. I should have asked you first.”

I’m so nervous my pulse is racing. “So, I was wondering if we could move past that.”

He breaks into a smile. “Of course we can.” Then he hesitates. “I’m not sure what you mean by that, though. Can you be more specific?”

“Your sister said I should just kiss you, and since she seems to know what she’s talking about—” I step forward, grab his T-shirt, and pull him to me. Our mouths collide, his lips suddenly moving against mine, hot and hungry. I take my cue from him and kiss him back just as hungrily, hoping the whole time that I’m doing it right.

I pull back just as abruptly as I started this and stare at him.

He smiles at me. “That went a lot better than the first time, didn’t it?”

I nod. When he takes my hands in his, I happen to glance down and see the tiny knicks and scars on his knuckles. I smile. Lia was right.

“Something funny?” he asks me.

“Your knuckles are scarred. Lia said they were, from fights when you were younger.”

He nods. “Yeah, I got into a lot of scrapes when I was a kid. Plus, it’s par for the course in my line of work. I usually come away from championship fights with a few extra scars.”

I swallow hard. “I have scars, too.”

His gaze is filled with compassion when he asks me, “Would you like to tell me about them?”

I release his hands. “It’ll be quicker if I just show you.” I untie the belt of my robe and let the garment fall to the floor. I’m standing there in front of him wearing only a pair of panties. I shiver as goosebumps break out all over me.

Liam’s eyes widen as he stares at my nearly naked body. “Jasmine.” His voice is little more than breath.

I reach for my robe. “I’m sorry. This was a bad idea. I know how I look. It’s awful.”

“No,” he says. “Don’t.”

When I straighten and look him in the eye, he surprises me by saying, “You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, Jasmine. You’re beautiful.”

I glance down at my body and frown. “Look at all these scars.”

He reaches out to take my hands in his. “Do you want to tell me how you got them?”

I swallow hard, my throat painfully tight. I point to the scar at the top of my right breast. “This is a bullet wound. I was a bystander in a drive-by shooting. The shooter was aiming for my trick and hit me instead.”

Liam winces. “Jesus, honey. If you’d been hit a little bit lower, you could have died.” He points to a scar just below my liver. “And that one?”

“One of the girls stabbed me because she thought I stole one of her tricks.”

“And this one?”

I swallow. “A trick stabbed me because I wouldn’t do what he wanted.” When Liam doesn’t ask what that was, I say, “He wanted me to let him go bareback, but I said no. I always made them use condoms.”

Liam’s gaze darkens. “And he stabbed you for saying no?”

“Yeah. I hit him over the head with an ashtray and ran.” I tell him how I got the various other scars I have, and he just sits there calmly listening.

“Are you going to tell me about this one?” he asks, pointing at the letter T branded on my left breast.

I glance down at myself. This is the one I hate the most. “Tony did that. He brands all his girls.” I look away. “I know, it’s disgusting. It’s like a cattle brand. I was thinking maybe I could get a tattoo to cover it up.”

“Hey.” Liam tips my chin up so that I’m looking at him. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. Tony’s a vile predator. Nothing he does, or has done, is your fault.” Right now, I’m thinking I’d like to carve something into his skin.”

Liam’s jaw tightens, a muscle clenching in his cheek. Then he shocks the shit out of me when he takes my hands in his. “I’m in awe of you.”

Tears prickle my eyes, blurring my vision, and I blink them away. “I’m nothing special. I just did what I had to do to survive.”

“You underestimate yourself, sweetheart.” He raises his hand slowly, toward me. “Is it okay if I touch them?”

He means my scars. I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

Gently, he traces a circle around each one, barely skimming the surface of my skin. “People face different tribulations in their lives and survive to tell their stories. You’re no different, Jasmine. You fought a different battle and lived to tell the tale.” And then he slowly leans forward and kisses each scar, each puckered mark, and the brand on my breast. Then he places a kiss in the center of my abdomen.

His touch sends wild shivers coursing through me. My breasts feel heavy, and my nipples pucker up into tight little buds. There’s a soft fluttering of excitement in my belly, and my head is spinning. I feel hot all over, my nerves tingling. There’s an unfamiliar throbbing between my legs, a heat pooling down there.

I wonder if this is what desire feels like.

I wouldn’t know because I’ve never felt it before.

Liam links our fingers together. Smiling, he leans in and kisses me, this time very gently. His lips are soft on mine as he nudges them apart. Our breaths mingle, soft puffs of air. Goosebumps prickle my skin from head to toe. This is what intimacy feels like. I’ve been with lots of men, but it never felt anything like this.

“Tell me what you want, Jasmine,” he murmurs against my mouth.

“I want you. I want you to show me what it’s like to be with someone you want.”

He looks me in the eye, so intently, as if he’s searching for something. “I need you to be very specific with me, sweetheart. Spell it out because I can’t risk making a mistake.”

I swallow hard, determined to see this through. “I’m talking about sex. I want to know what it’s like when you’re with someone you… care about.”

I want to smile, because she’s talking about me. She’s admitting she cares about me. But this is way too serious to make light of. “You never enjoyed sex?”

I shake my head. “No. It was a job—something I just wanted to get over with.”