Ex-Factor (Diamond Girls) (13 page)

His cheek was warm, the scar thick and smooth, unlike the slightly scruffy skin surrounding it. I let my eyes wander from his scar to his eyes, my breath hitching when I saw the look of hunger he wore.

My fingers tingled where my flesh met his, and when he placed his large hand over the top of mine, I thought my arm might spontaneously combust.

He trailed the rough pads of his fingers across the top of my hand and circled my wrist, gently pulling my hand from his face. My knees went soft, almost gummy, when he laced our fingers together, and in that moment, I was sure I was either hallucinating or had suffered some type of narcoleptic fit that left me lying face down on the track, dreaming.

Bodie Scott was holding my hand.

He cocked his head, gave my arm a gentle tug, and we once again took up our trek around the track. He kept his eyes forward as he spoke, and given the hard angle of his jaw and stiffness in his posture, it was obvious his accident and its aftermath were difficult for him to discuss. “The wound hurt like a mo-fo after the accident, when it was still raw and new. Other than being an ugly reminder I see every day when I look in the mirror, I don’t notice it or feel it anymore.” He mashed his lips together and cast me a quick sidelong glance, then gave my hand a reassuring squeeze when he saw the concerned look I wore.

Warmth flooded my frame, and I gave him a slight nod and squeezed his hand back. Beneath his tough guy bravado, Bodie sported a sensitive side I had no idea he possessed.

He kept his gaze locked with mine, the hard line of his jaw softening a bit as he finished speaking. “And as far as the seizures, I don’t feel those, either. I kinda check out during them, have no clue what’s going on. When I wake up, I’m dog tired and usually a little sore.”

I gazed into his eyes, wanting to say something and not knowing what that something should be. Bodie had opened up to me. Like, majorly opened up. And replying to his outpouring with a simple “I’m glad it doesn’t hurt when you seize” seemed both lacking and utterly lame. He’d given me a peek into his life, into something he struggled with, so I felt it only appropriate I do the same.

I didn’t hesitate, because if I did, I’d lose my nerve. I brushed my hair off my shoulder with my free hand, lifting it off my neck to reveal the base of my skull. “I have a scar, too.”

Bodie let go of my hand. The ache I felt at the loss of contact was only temporary, because in the next moment, he swept my hair out of my hand and held it up for me while he traced a gentle finger across the thick ridge of scar tissue running along my hairline.

My skin pebbled almost instantly, and a delicious tingling sensation rippled up and down the length of my spine each time his finger moved. I sucked in a shallow breath, and my eyelids grew heavy and closed, an automatic reaction to the sensual torture he was doling out with his gifted finger. Who knew one small touch could elicit so much feeling and pleasure?

Like all good things, the moment came to an abrupt end. He pulled his hand away, carefully draping my hair back across my shoulders. He stepped around me so that we were facing again, and casually leaned against the metal railing that circled the track. “How did it happen?”

My body stiffened, the familiar sense of shame that always swelled when I spoke about the incident threatening to burst forth like a broken dam. Did I tell him the truth? Show him a dark part of me I hadn’t shared with anyone other than my therapist, my deceased father, and Aunt Trish?

The words came out before I could stop them. “My mom has familial Alzheimer’s disease.”

Bodie’s eyes widened. He looked away for a moment and shook his head before meeting my gaze once more, eyes filled with warmth and understanding, but not an ounce of pity. “Shit, Doll Face. I’m sorry.” His eyebrows drew together, and I could tell he was trying to work something out. “Alzheimer’s, that’s when the person—”

“Forgets,” we said in unison.

I sucked in a deep breath, willing away the tears that threatened to fall, and nodded. Hands clenched into fists, I stared at my feet and just let it all out. “My mom doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t know who anyone is, really. I got my scar the day my dad took her to the care facility she lives in. He wouldn’t let me go with him.” My lips quivered, and my voice barely registered above a whisper. “So, I sat in the middle of our kitchen floor with a bottle of Jim Beam and drank myself stupid.”

I felt his gaze burning a hole into the top of my head, but I was too ashamed by my story to look him in the eye. My chest ached, and I had the overwhelming urge to tuck tail and run. What had possessed me to open up like that and share such an embarrassing detail about my past?  I could only imagine what a loser he must’ve thought I was.

His fingers felt like sandpaper against my chin, warm and gritty, but oh, so gentle. He lifted my face, forcing me to look him eye to eye, and then swiped at the tears trailing down my cheek with his thumb. “So, how did the scar happen?”

Face flushed, skin sticky from a mixture of tears and blue glitter, I sniffled a bit, then finished my story. “I hadn’t eaten much that day, and I drank almost the entire bottle, so the alcohol hit me hard. I got up, staggered across the kitchen—or, so I’m told—tripped over our dog’s food dish and knocked the back of my head on the counter. My dad found me, unconscious and lying in a pool of blood, when he got home from dropping my mom off.”

Guilt tore at my chest, chipped away at the last vestiges of composure I clung to. My poor father. It was bad enough that he had to hospitalize the only woman he’d ever loved because she could no longer remember him or care for herself. But to come home afterward and find his only child unconscious, bleeding and deep in the throes of alcohol poisoning was something I’d never forgive myself for. Well, one of the many things I’d never forgive myself for. I was a total creep, and unfortunately, I’d just shown that creepy side to Bodie.

Game over.

Just when I was certain the boy of my dreams was going to scowl at me with disgust and walk away, Bodie surprised me once again. Expression compassionate, but void of pity and judgment, he drew me into his arms and just held me. God, did it feel good.

His warm, delicious scent whirled around me, forming an invisible cocoon of safety. I buried my face against the center of his chest and reveled in the way his arms felt around me, the way his solid body felt pressing against my own. The sense of comfort and safety I felt in his arms was something I hadn’t experienced since well before the loss of my parents, and I never wanted the moment to end. Bodie soothed me in a way no one else could, and I craved that feeling in the worst possible way.

The massive floodlights illuminating the field shut off with a loud, echoing snap, and the track was at once flooded in darkness.

Bodie trailed a hand down the back of my hair and gave me another squeeze before pulling away. “Guess that’s our cue to move out. Yeah?”

I forced a smile, sad that I was no longer enjoying the security of his embrace and swiped away the last remnants of my tears.

“C’mon,” he said, and took my hand once more. “Never did get to dance with you.”

I felt my mouth drop open as every muscle in my body simultaneously jerked to attention. Dance with me? Bodie wanted to dance with me? Visions of our bodies pressed against one another, swaying side to side to some romantic slow song beneath the starry twinkle lights accosted my every waking thought. Mute and breathless, I followed him blindly as he led me back across the darkened campus toward the gymnasium.

“Hey,” I said as we bypassed the gym altogether and wandered out into the parking lot. “Where are we going? I thought you said you wanted to dance with me?” My words trailed off as we approached a large, very shiny black Ford F-150 truck.

Bodie pulled a set of keys from his pocket and pressed a finger to the key fob, the loud chirping echoing across the parking lot.

“Nice truck,” I said as he pulled me over to the driver’s side. “Looks new. Did you just get it?” I couldn’t help but wonder what his parents did for a living that would allow them to buy him such a fancy truck. They had to have been well-off.

“Truck’s not mine,” he said as he climbed in and placed the keys in the ignition.

Soft blue light from the cab’s interior trickled out into the darkness, and the soft sound of country music filtered out from the vehicle’s speakers.

Bodie slid back out and closed the truck’s door. He jabbed a thumb toward the shiny vehicle behind him, cocked his head to the side, and shrugged. “It’s my buddy’s truck. I’m not driving right now. Have to be seizure-free for at least six months.” He barked out a nervous laugh. “After this morning, looks like I got another six months to go.”

My heart clenched at his words, but he didn’t leave me a chance to dwell on his plight. He kept talking.

“I snagged my buddy’s keys because I was bored. Planned on hangin’ out here until the dance was over. But then I saw you standing all by yourself and, well,” he cast me a devilish smirk that turned my knees to mush, “I’ve never been one to let opportunity pass me by.” Eyes locked with mine, he stepped forward so that his body was almost flush against mine, and smiled down at me.

Thank God.
I struggled to breathe.

He laughed then, and for a moment I worried I’d spoken that last thought aloud. God, how humiliating would that be?

Grinning like someone had just handed him tickets to the Super Bowl, he brushed a stray hair from my face before placing his hands at the small of my back and pulling me tight against his body.

The outside world faded away, the stars aligned, and I was positive I was experiencing one of those once-in-a-lifetime, you-see-them-in-the-movies-but-never-experience-them-in-real-life moments. My heart hammered against my ribs, and every nerve ending in my body rocketed into high alert. Incapable of registering anything aside from the warmth of his body and the way his strong hands kneaded the flesh of my lower back, I gazed up at him, breathless and dizzy. I couldn’t remember my name, much less the sad state of my life, and in that moment, that was totally okay with me. Bodie Scott was a healing salve, and I wanted more of his medicine.

The movement was almost imperceptible, but it was there. We were swaying side-to-side—dancing. In the parking lot. Outside the dance. To a country song I didn’t know.

I absolutely loved it.

I raised a brow. “Country, huh?”

Bodie narrowed his eyes playfully and feigned a tough guy attitude. “Damn straight, woman. Country’s the only good music. That crap they were playing in the gym makes my ears bleed.” He stared me down for another moment, jaw clenched, brow raised before laughter finally overtook him. His entire body shook with the sound, and I couldn’t help giggling myself.

“I never would have guessed.” And I wouldn’t have. With his dark, skull-trimmed hair, muscular physique, and tough guy attitude, I pictured him thrashing around in the center of a mosh pit at a metal concert. Not swaying side to side with me to a pretty country song.

He tightened his hold on me and leaned his head down so that his face was buried in my hair. Nearly twice my size and a heck of a lot taller than my pitiful five-five, I’d no doubt I looked like a reed standing beside a mighty oak tree, and I loved that about us. He overwhelmed me in size and with emotion.

My head fit perfectly into the center of his chest, and his masculine, heady scent whirled through my senses like a drug, revving my libido and calming me at the same time.

The song we’d been dancing to had long since faded to one I was very familiar with: “Today Was A Fairytale” by Taylor Swift. I wasn’t sure what surprised me more, the reality that I was standing in the safety of Bodie’s powerful arms, or that the radio was playing a song that perfectly conveyed every feeling I was experiencing at that moment. The coincidence was uncanny to say the least, but one I didn’t plan on questioning. So little good came my way. I planned on digging my fingers into this one thing and holding on for dear life.

I trailed my hands from his shoulders up along the back of his neck. The skin there was soft and warm, the muscle beneath hard as steel. “I love this song,” I whispered, pulling back to look into his eyes.

They were ebony black, lids heavy and full of desire.

I could have melted into a puddle of goo right then and there were it not for the fact that he held me up.

He moved a hand from my lower back up to my hair and trailed one of the longer strands between his first finger and his thumb. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered before brushing my hair off my shoulder.

For a moment, I wasn’t sure which he was talking about, the song, or my hair. But when he leaned down and whispered, “Just like you,” his warm, minty breath sent goosebumps rippling across every inch of my flesh. Taylor Swift had it right, all right. Today was
a total fairytale, and the only thing that could possibly top this moment was if he were to kiss me. God, I wanted him to kiss me. Would his lips be soft? Demanding? He looked like the type of guy who could kiss you senseless, make you forget your name. I wanted to forget myself. Get lost in him. Drown in his perfect goodness.

His lips moved from my ear then, ghosting across my cheekbone like sweet fire, coming perilously close to mine.

Strong fingers that had been kneading my back slipped up and under the hem of my tee, the sensation of his warm flesh caressing mine sending lightning bolts of pleasure rocketing up my spine.

My breath caught, my lips parting ever so slightly.

A small groan escaped his lips, and he wove his fingers into the hair at the base of my skull, his lips mere centimeters from mine. “I want to kiss you so bad, Doll Face. Tell me you want me to. Tell me it’s okay.”

Lost in the moment, I managed an almost imperceptible nod and whispered a breathless sounding “please.”

He didn’t waste time, and for that I would be forever thankful.

He tasted like a mixture of wintergreen and dream come true. I’d been right about his lips. They were gentle, yet powerful, and they moved like magic in time with my own. His tongue was soft and warm as it caressed my bottom lip seeking entrance into my mouth.