Page 79 of The Curveball
“Wren, what happened?”
Oh no. I slap my hand over my exposed skin where the scar twists the spot in the place my collarbone dips beneath my throat.
“Oh, a . . . an accident with some broken glass when I was younger.”
His brows draw together. I want to crawl away and hide, but his thumb brushes over the skin with tenderness, not repulsion.
“I’ve never noticed it before,” he says.
“I hide it.”
“Why?”
My swallow is rough. It hurts. “It’s ugly.” And carries ugly memories.
Griffin’s mouth tightens. He pulls me closer like he might kiss me, but instead his lips drop to the scar. He kisses every jagged line, every pucker of skin. When he lifts his eyes again, his hand grips the back of my head. “Nothing about you is ugly.”
He goes silent again and draws me against his side like his original plan. For a few minutes my tongue is tied. I watch him dissolve back into the stoic mold of the man who is a magnet for sunshine and good vibes most days. But he broke long enough to make me feel beautiful.
If I thought I was falling in love before, now I know it. I’m there. Face planted on the ground. He’s wrecked me like I knew he would if I ever let him in.
His words, his touch, they have a power over me. Strong enough to chase away insecurities and fears. Maybe I can do the same for him.
My fingers touch the edge of his jaw. Griffin closes his eyes. They travel to the curve of his ear, and he tilts his head into the touch. When I thread my fingers through his hair, his broad body practically sinks against me.
His head falls to my shoulder as I stroke and massage his scalp. I’ve become a Griffin scalp-stroker after all.
“Want to talk about what’s bothering you?” I whisper.
He kisses the top of my shoulder and says, “Not really.”
“Okay.”
Griffin’s face shifts. I can’t see for sure, but I take a guess that he’s smiling. “Thank you.”
“Well, don’t thank me yet,” I say softly. “Just because you aren’t talking, doesn’t mean I’m not going to.”
“I like when you talk, Birdie.” His voice muffles as he nuzzles his face into my neck.
“Good, because I have things to say.”
Griffin lifts his head, a look of concern wrinkling his forehead. Before he says a word, I trap his face between my palms. “I can write a lot of flowery words; speaking them is a different story, but I need to.”
I drag my fingertips along the line of his lip, following with gentle kisses in the corner, the top, then I kiss him sweetly and pull back. “I need you to know, you are the kindest man I’ve met.” I kiss the other corner of his mouth. “You’re also the bossiest.”
He smiles, not a full Griffin smile, but it’s progress.
My fingers rake through his hair again. I take too much satisfaction the way he shudders like I have all the power here. I kiss his left cheek. “You have the biggest heart, and I can’t get enough of it.” My lips brush his opposite cheek. “You also have the sexiest body. But that’s obvious.”
He chuckles and opens his mouth to respond, but I press my fingers to his lips again, silencing him. “Hush. It’s my turn to talk, Marks.”
Griffin arches a brow, and gifts me with a heated stare filled with good things to come if I keep it up.
I leverage across the couch until I’m seated on his lap, his arms wrap around my waist, holding me close. I roll his earlobe between my thumb and finger. He sighs at the touch, then swallows with effort when I kiss his jaw. “You scared me when I first met you because I felt an immediate attraction. That’s never happened to me.”
His breaths deepen when I drag my kisses to his neck. “I need you to know something, Marks.” I kiss his chin, working my way to the other side of his neck. My mouth leaves a trail of kisses up his throat until I brush them against his ear. “I’ve never forgotten to cover this scar around those who don’t know it’s there.”
“Wren—”