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.“Do you want to share a unit with me? Like a couples’ unit? ”“Like our first house?”He looks horrified and then relaxes.“Well, yeah, I guess that’s what it is.” He shrugs, trying to appear casual.I reach over on tiptoes and give him a quick kiss on the lips.“I would love to share a house with you,” I laugh.“But don’t ask me to marry you—I mean, I hardly know you!” I laugh again as he flushes bright red.He smiles, all trace of nervousness vanishing.“Good.I mean, that’s what I thought you’d say.Why wouldn’t you want to?” He smirks, his demeanor all arrogant masculinity once again.I roll my eyes.“Don’t make me change my mind.”*Our small house is just that: small.It has a brown front door with a boarded up window in it, brown brickwork, and a tiled roof.Inside there’s a small kitchen with wood paneled cabinets and a small steel sink, a living room, bathroom, and a small double bedroom.The paintwork is dated and the furniture is old, but I love it.“Homey,” I state, keeping my poker face.Mikey laughs and drops my bag on the floor by the bed.I turn in a circle as I look around me.“I’m serious.You’ve really made this place your own.” I grip the bottom of the dowdy-looking curtains.Mikey sits on the edge of the bed, a smirk playing on his mouth.“You can see that, huh?”“Oh yeah, totally.”He reaches out to me, his hands gripping the backs of my thighs, and pulls me closer to him.He looks up to me through dark lashes, and my heart skips a beat when he runs his tongue across his bottom lip as his eyes search my face for something.Woot, there it is.Now it’s my turn to smirk.I raise an eyebrow at him.“I think this place could use a feminine touch,” he says, slowly lying back and pulling me with him.I look around mockingly.“Feminine touch? I don’t see any feminine females around here.” I place my hands on his chest and push up so we’re not so up close and personal, though I can see that’s his plan.“You’re all the feminine I need, baby.” I start to eye roll at him, but he reaches up, placing his hand on the back of my head, and pulls my mouth to his.“Shut up now, Nina.” I feel him grin as he kisses me, and I let him get away with having a smart mouth, for now at least.I kiss him back fervently, gasping as he pulls at my clothes, sliding both himself and me out of our jackets and T-shirts.He runs cool fingers over my lean stomach, small white scars puckering the flesh.He frowns and trails his hands up to my breasts where he lowers the straps on my bra and leans in to kiss at my neck.My head lolls to the side and I moan at the feel of his hot mouth on my cool skin.Memories surface of the last time we were together; the fear and death that came afterwards was life-changing, yet this is so much different.My heart races as I struggle to push the memories away, memories of death and violence, of greedy fingers and whips.I swallow, my breath catching in my throat.“We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready.I can wait,” he says.I open my eyes and look at him.In his face is so much desire, but behind that is pain—pain in what he had to do, pain in what he had to witness.“I want to.” I shiver.The heat suddenly leaves me and cold drenches my soul.Mikey lifts me and slides the covers from underneath us.He lays me back down and lowers the covers on top of us.“Let me make it right.” His eyes wash over my face, his fingers stroking the long scar from my mouth to my cheek.“Let me give you a good memory and take away the bad.”I stare at him, rapt for his words.“I want you to forget…” His words trail off.I know what he’s trying to say, though.He doesn’t need to say it.“I don’t want you to think of them again, not like that.I want you to think of me now.Okay?”I shake my head in amazement, finding it utterly bizarre and yet perfect that he should know exactly how I’m feeling.I frown, a deep furrow between my eyebrows, and he reaches up and strokes the frown, kissing my forehead until I stop.“Let me try, at least,” he pleads.I nod, feeling ridiculously nervous, as if I’m doing this for the first time.I’d make a joke out of that thought, but the only thing I can focus on right now is him kissing my breast and taking my nipple into his deliciously warm mouth, and his hand shuffling my pants down.I swallow again, trying not to choke on the golf ball in my throat as I let my hands go to his back, feeling the raised scars dancing across the surface of his flesh.With each scar I touch, I lose myself more, yet find myself in a new way
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