“What about them?” she whispers, breath featherlight against my skin.
“Pro…or con?”
“What do you do if I saycon?”
“It’d take a while, probably quite a few rounds, but laser removal is a thing.”
Her giant blue eyes hit me as she lifts her head, looks at my fully painted arms, turns her horror-struck gaze back on me.
“I can book an appointment immediately.”
Her head whips side to side, nearly loosening her hair scarf. “N-no. Don’t.”
I arch a brow. “So…youdon’thate them?”
A distressed little sound starts in her chest as she mumbles, “What if you’re allveinyunder them?”
I blink. “Well, I try to stay hydrated.” I flex and look at my arm. “But I am pretty sure everyone has veins?”
“A travesty,” she whispers.
“You don’t like veins?”
“Veins are weird.”
I hum and lean back against the door, savoring these moments when I get to cradle her. Her weight is just…perfect. So, so perfect in my arms. “I am sorry. I can’t laser remove my veins.”
The true and thorough sadness in her as her head dips with disappointment makes me laugh.
“Pro,” she murmurs.
“What is, precious?”
Staring, she untangles her fingers from my shirt and smoothes the fabric. “When you laugh.”
A breath catches in my lungs. “You like when I laugh?”
She nods once. “You’re hard to read. When you smile or laugh, I can make a better educated assumption, and when people are happy, they probably don’t hate me.”
Slipping her down to her feet, I trap her in the corner, against the wall. “I don’t think it’s possible for me to hate you.”
Palms pressed to the wainscotting, she says, “It’s only been a week and a half.”
“A beautiful week and a half.”
“I have hit you. Alot.”
I lean closer. “Pro.” Breath escapes me. “Anything that results in you touching me of your own free will is a pro.”
At her side, her hand closes, then opens, then lifts.
Landing soft against my shirt first, her fingers tickle against my chest with the promise of more, and my back curves as I hunch closer. When the full force of her touch flattens against me, I can no longer keep my eyes open. She runs her palm over my body, and I hiss a curse, dropping my forehead.
“Damion,” she says.
I swear again, force my eyes to open, to look at her. Perfectly pink and wonderstruck, she watches me. Like I’m something shewantsto figure out. Like I’m someone she’s seeing in a completely new light.
My mouth goes dry. I swear again. Breathing hard, I whisper a coarse, “Yes, precious?”
