Lib Novel Page 61
“Yes, it matters. Tell me.” I use my sternest tone.
She stares at me with pained eyes. “My ex.”
“Well, I figured it was an ex. But he’s an ex for a reason, right? Why do you care? People say all sorts of shitty things when they break up.” Not that I’d ever broken up with anyone, but I’ve witnessed the horrible shit people are capable of when love twists into hate.
“I really don’t want to talk about it,” she says.
Fury shoots through my veins. Not at Margot. At whoever bruised her self-esteem. “Please?”
She shakes her head. “Not before we…Maybe after.”
Whatever it is, she must think it’s so awful, she doesn’t want it in my head while I’m fucking her. She doesn’t want me judging if her ex was right or not. Normally, the pushy asshole in me would keep badgering her until she told me everything I want to know.
But I just can’t do that to Margot.
“Okay.” I lean in and kiss her forehead. “I hope you trust me enough to tell me one day.”
She bites her bottom lip. “I trust you or you wouldn’t be here.”
“Show me then.” Usually, I’m not a fan of lots of physical contact. Unless it’s for a specific—and damn good—reason. But I’m dying for Margot’s touch. Eager to have her curious hands all over me again. “Touch me like you were before.”
“People don’t usually like me touching them,” she whispers, sliding her hand over my shoulder and down my arm. “They think of what I do…”
I curl my hand around hers and bring it to my lips, kissing each of her fingertips. “I’m not afraid of anything, Margot.”
Liar. I’m terrified of falling in love with this woman.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Margot
Jigsaw might not be afraid of anything, but I am. I really like him. His kisses. His voice. His body. The gentle way he petted Gretel, even though she’d rudely interrupted us.
But telling him my ex had compared me to a corpse—cold, immobile, and boring—in bed was something I can’t bring myself to share with him. What if we’re in the middle of an intimate moment and he’s thinking, “Damn, that guy was right, she sucks at this?” He wouldn’t be able to hide his disgust, and I’d die of shame.
Thankfully, he dropped it for now. To further move him away from that topic, I return to our kissing lesson. “Maybe you can give me a report card to let me know how I’m performing,” I suggest, like it’s the best idea ever and totally normal.
He stares at me with the strangest expression. “You want me to grade you? At sex?”
“Well, guide me, maybe? ‘Improvement needed,’ ‘satisfactory,’ that kind of thing.”
“Margot, you don’t have to keep reminding me I’m only here for one purpose. I got it.”
Oh my God. Is that what he thinks? Why does he seem so hurt?
“That’s not what I meant.” I drop my gaze. “I’m sorry.”
He grips my chin, forcing me to look at him. “It’s fine.”
The relentless pounding of my heart won’t stop. We’ve barely started and I’m already messing this up.
“Tell me what to do?” I ask.
He settles back against the cushions again. “Come here.” He pats his thigh.
Eager, but a little on edge now, I scoot closer to him. “How do you want me?”
A flash of animalistic desire lights up his eyes. “Every single way I can have you.”