Page 6 of Jack of Hearts

“Yes, my first.” She takes a shaky breath and looks up at my face. “I was a cutter in my early teens.” She shakes her head. “Stupid, but it was how I coped. I think I just needed something I was in charge of. Something that didn’t make me feel powerless. That was back before I learned how to use an arc welder, which is basically the most powerful feeling in the world.” She grins waggling her eyebrows.

I can’t help but chuckle. God damn, this woman is going to kill me. I’ve known her less than a day and I already know that Lucy is a fighter, a survivor. The idea of her turning her fear of being powerless into the fuel for her art … that’s pretty kick ass.

“Most of my scars are covered now,” she says, chin tipped up like she’s daring me to criticize her. “I started with the ones on my thighs.”

I want to ask to see them, but mostly just because I want to see more of her. More of her art. More of her skin. I want to see all of her. Every bit she’ll show me. Inside and out.

Instead, I drop my shirt onto the metal back of the chair and lift my arm so she can see my newest ink that’s scrawled down my ribs.

She closes the distance between us and then her fingers trace over the words.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

“Dylan Thomas.”

I nod.

Her brown eyes meet mine. “I’ve always loved that poem.”

“Good reminder to not give up,” I say.

She takes another shaky breath, then her hands cup my face she pulls me down for a kiss.

I’m hard again in an instant. She nips lightly at my bottom lip. I pick her up and her legs go around my waist, then I press her against the refrigerator and kiss her back. My hands grip her plump ass as my tongue assaults her mouth.

Goddamn she tastes good. Her soft, abundant curves feel perfect against my body. Her hands are in my hair which is finally growing in from the standard-issue Army cut.

I move one hand to her waist and ease my fingertips beneath the hem of her tank top. Her skin is impossibly soft and so hot. She sucks on my tongue and makes a throaty noise that’s somewhere between a moan and a growl.

What the hell am I even doing? I don’t even know this woman.

Do I already know I want her? Yes. Absolutely.

But I’ve known her less than a day. I need a job more than I need a hook up. Hell, that’s assuming I’d even know how to handle a hook up. Not to mention the assumption that a hookup is what she wants.

I end the kiss, and press my forehead to hers.

“I’m sorry, Lucy. I lost control.” I lower her body to the floor, then quickly turn from her to pull my shirt back on. I scrape my hand over the soft new growth of hair at the back of my head. “I promise you’re safe with me. I’m going to take my list and start figuring out the supplies I need.”

She’s all wide brown eyes and kiss plumped lips. She nods. “Yeah. I’ve got to finish up with something out in the garage. Let me know if you need anything.” Then she walks away.

I know she feels rejected which is the last thing I’d want her to feel. I want more than anything to lose myself in her body. But she’s obviously more experienced than me. Fuck, everyone is more experienced than me.

How do I admit to the sexiest woman I’ve ever met that I’m the oldest damn virgin in the world?

chapter

four

Lucy

I watch Jack walk out of the kitchen. He heads upstairs to the room I offered him as part of the job when I gave him the tour of the house. I’m not quite sure what to make of the kiss or his rejection.

I know he was into it. I felt that thick rod of his arousal press against me when my legs were wrapped around his waist. His hand slid under my shirt, though it barely brushed the skin of my stomach. Was that it? Did he realize in that moment that he’s not attracted to a thick girl?

That doesn’t ring true either. I know plenty of men don’t like a woman with meat on her bones. But when he saw the softness of my belly while I showed him my tattoos, I would have sworn I saw a flash of interest, not disgust.