The nights were the worst. They were so much worse than the day, because that’s when the fear and the doubts crept in. I would get weak and go into the bathroom, stare into the mirror, and cry. I’d cry for losing parts of myself, cry for not knowing what would happen next, and cry because I felt completely and utterly alone.
With memories like that hanging on you, feeling beautiful even eighteen months later is not an easy feat. You grow your hair back, and it’s thicker and a slightly different shade than before. Though you like it, you’re afraid to trust it, because somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re afraid it will leave you again. Even as you watch your body heal and the medication work its magic, and after you’re no longer a rack of bones… even then, rarely do you feel beautiful.
Today in that coffee shop, I felt beautiful. I felt that way because this large, scarred, tattooed and pierced biker looked at me in a way that made me feel like my skin was on fire. I felt beautiful because he made me feel that way.
That’s why I am determined to find a way to sneak out again and return to the coffee shop. That’s the real reason I will risk the wrath of Sister Margaret, because today, a man who was unique and gorgeous in his own right made me feel beautiful.
As I board the bus to go back to school, I do the one thing that might even make Sister Margaret proud of me: I pray. I pray that the biker is there tomorrow and I’m not just being na?ve.
Three days. Three days straight I’ve thrown caution to the wind and had breakfast with the man known only to me as Skull.
I don’t know much about him other than he is sexy as hell, dangerous, sweet, scary, and the first man I’ve ever met who makes me want… more. Which is crazy, because he’s the last man in the world who should get that reaction from me. He’s a biker. Not only is he a biker—if that patch on the cut he wears is to be believed—but he is the president of the Devil’s Blaze MC. I should be running away from a man like this, not sneaking off to have breakfast with him.
If Matthew or Colin knew I was even in Raven Hills, there would be hell to pay. If they knew I was having breakfast with the president of Devil’s Blaze…? Skull or I would be dead, maybe even both of us. There would be no in-between.
But even knowing what could happen, I still got Ryan to help me break out of school for the third day straight. I’m still sitting beside the smoothest, filthiest-talking man I’ve ever met—and loving every minute of it. He makes me laugh. He gives me a taste of… life. For so long, I’ve just gone through the motions, never knowing what real life was like. I’ve been, in some ways, afraid to experience it or test the strict boundaries that my family has on me. I know it’s foolish, but I want to savor these stolen moments because I know they can’t last. They just can’t.
“You’re looking sexy as usual,” Skull whispers into my ear. He doesn’t bother sitting across from me now. He’s right beside me and he has my hand in his, resting them on his lap. His large inked hand swallows my much smaller pale one, and the contrast is beautiful. He’s so much bigger than me and he’s covered in ink. I see it everywhere on him, and all of it is dark and foreboding—but at the same time captivating. I want to trace every mark and learn why he chose it. His voice rakes across my skin and sends shivers of awareness through my body.
“I shouldn’t be here,” I tell him honestly.
“You should be in my bed,” he growls, nibbling down my neck.
It’s ten a.m., the café is pretty empty, and yet still there are eyes on us. That should bother me. It should at the very least worry me, but it doesn’t, and that terrifies me. I could lose myself in his seduction.
“We’ve only known each other four days. I don’t see that happening. Besides, I don’t even know your name.”
“Nombre? Is this what stops you, lovely Beth? My name is Andre. Now, let’s get out of here.” He growls.
Andre? Okay, that wasn’t a name I expected, so I laugh. He stops nibbling on my neck, which makes me sad, but it’s for the best. Even though he brings out inner-whore tendencies in me, I can’t sleep with him. I won’t.
“You find my name funny, Beth?”
“I’m sorry, I just do not see you as an Andre. It doesn’t fit,” I tell him, choosing to be honest. Skull may have a sweet side when talking, but he’s also gritty and dirty and… Andre just doesn’t quite give that impression.
“Does this mean you will not call me Andre?” He asks, but there’s a semi-smile on his face.
“Nope. Sorry, it just doesn’t fit. I’ll stick to Skull.”
“I like the idea of you sticking to me. A coincidence, si?”
I shake my head at him. “You’re horrible. Stop already. I told you, I’m not falling into your bed.”
“It does not have to be a bed. We could use a wall, a table, shower… or perhaps you’d enjoy a hot tub? That can be arranged, no bed required.”
“You should get an A in effort.”
“You have no idea. Wait until I show you what else I deserve A’s in.”
I shake my head no. “Do you ever talk about anything other than sex?” I ask, exasperated.