Scarred Beautiful (18 page)

“Hi, Matt. Oh, I see Caleb. I’m going over.” She continues walking but calls back, “Can you get me a vodka tonic, Fran?”

“Uh huh,” Fran replies, and I finally decide it’s time to find my voice.

“You look…beautiful, Fran.”

“Thank you,” she says, her eyes raking over my body. “You look pretty decent, too.”

“Don’t go overboard with the compliments,” I tease, motioning toward the bar. “What can I get you to drink?”

“I’ll have a rum and coke, please.” She eyes the table, Caleb and Peyton already getting cozy in the corner.

“Why don’t you go on ahead. I’ll bring the drinks over.” I won’t deny I want to watch her walk away and Jesus, as she does, it was completely worth it. Her ass is perfectly outlined through that dress and she’s all legs and—shit, she just turned around and caught me staring.

I make two trips to bring the drinks over and then take a seat across from Fran. Peyton and Caleb are already lost in their own little world, so for all intents and purposes, Fran and I are alone.

She takes a sip of her drink and catches me eyeing her again. “You like what’s on the
menu
?” Her voice is low and sexy and my breath catches.

“Maybe.” I grin, but then for once in my life decide to say fuck it. “Yeah, I do.”

Her eyes light up with surprise, a subtle shade of pink sweeping her cheeks at the same time a smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

Right answer.

Fran sits back against the chair and pulls her drink along with her, mixing it with her straw. “So… how is Caleb’s dad feeling?”

I chuckle before setting my beer down on the table. “He’s okay. A bit irritable, but that’s to be expected. He’s kind of immobile right now.” My mind drifts to the more important reasons behind his mood change and I smirk.

“What? What’s so funny?” Fran asks, peeking at me over the glass, that cute little wrinkle in her forehead popping out.

“Well….” I try to figure out a way to put this without being too blunt. “Because of his hip, his dad is feeling a bit…deprived.”

Her eyebrows squish together and her nose crinkles until the light bulb goes off in her head. “Oooooh,” she says, smiling, “that.”

“Yeah.”

She cocks her head, tapping her fingernails on the side of her glass, contemplating me. “You really love them, don’t you? His family?”

“Yes, as if they’re my own,” I say fondly. “They’re the closest thing I’ve had to a home since I was seventeen. After my mom died, well, things started to fall apart. My dad was devastated and started to withdraw from us a little every day. When Clara passed away eight years ago, he finally left and I haven’t spoken to or seen him since.” I let out a hard sigh, running a hand through my hair roughly. “It’s not that I can even blame him, though. First he loses the love of his life, and then years later he loses his daughter, both to the same illness. I wouldn’t even begin to know how to cope with that.”

“That couldn’t have been easy on you, either. It’s great that you had Caleb’s family, then.” Sadness lines the rims of her eyes and I wonder what’s behind it. “I never really had that kind of a home life either. That reminds me,” she mutters, putting a hand over her mouth briefly, “I’ve been here four days and I haven’t even called my mom.”

I’ve noticed Fran hasn’t mentioned very much about her mom and dad during the time we’ve spent together. “I assume you’re not that close?”

“I absolutely love my mom, don’t get me wrong, but since she left New York we end up on the phone a lot more often than we end up seeing one another. I don’t know,” she says with a faraway look, “I wish we were closer emotionally but it’s hard for her. She carries a lot of guilt.”

I’m just about to ask her what she means by that when Caleb comes up for air and breaks into our conversation.

“You guys want to play a game?” he asks, draining the last of his beer and slamming it down on the table.

“What kind of a game?” Fran asks cautiously, “One of your dirty secrets games again?” She and Peyton exchange some sort of covert glance before she returns her gaze to Caleb.

“No, nothing like that,” he amends, winking at her, “unless you absolutely want to. I was thinking something like truth or dare?”

The music around the bar suddenly starts pounding through the speakers and “Beautiful Goodbye” by Maroon 5 fills the room. Peyton lets out a squeak and kicks her chair back, reaching out to Caleb.

“I love this song, Caleb. Let’s dance.” She grabs his hand and pulls him off to the center of the bar leaving Fran and me alone, which is not a bad predicament to be in.

“Well, that was a quick game,” she teases, looking out at Caleb and Peyton dancing, their bodies completely entangled.

“We can still play if you want to,” I say, “unless you’re afraid.”

She straightens up in her chair and leans her breasts over the table. Well, it’s more like her chest, but her breasts are the first thing I see. “Okay, hotshot, truth or dare?” she says, her voice both smooth and seductive. Excitement rushes through my blood at the game’s potential.

“Truth.”

“First time you had sex?” She swirls the ice around in her glass, eyeing me and waiting on an answer.

“You just cut to the chase, don’t you?” She waves me forward with her hand, silently telling me to fess up. “I was seventeen and it was with Janet Thomas. It was angry sex though. I was grieving over my mom and I was pissed off and rebelling, although Janet did seem to enjoy it.” I grin, crossing my arms over my chest. “Your turn. What about you? First time?”

“I was seventeen. Harry Stilman in the back of his mother’s Chevy Chevette.”

“Harry?” I chuckle, picking up my beer and downing the remainder of it. “You had your first sexual experience with a guy named
Harry
, in a car?”

“Hey,” she replies, her cheeks warming to a soft pink glow, “don’t let the name fool you, he knew what he was doing. As far as the car, it was my idea. We couldn’t find anywhere to be alone, and I couldn’t wait.”

“It must have been a bit hard in the car…no pun intended.” I raise a brow and shrug at my own joke.

Fran shakes her head, her lips cracking a smile. “Oh, it was a
lot
hard.”

Shit. Now
I’m
hard.

Another song comes on and I squint my eyes and strain to hear what it is when Fran’s mood shifts dramatically, her eyes growing soft, a sweet smile curving her lips.

“I love this song.” I can barely hear her words over the music, but I see her lips move and I’m pretty sure that’s what she said.

I slide my chair back and walk over to her side of the table as Tyrone Wells’ voice croons the words to “This Love.” “Do you want to dance, sunshine?”

“Is this a dare?” she asks with a playful grin.

All joking leaves me the second I stare into those bright green eyes. “No.” I extend my hand to her and she slips her palm in mine as we make our way to the center of the room.

We stand there staring at each other for a long minute as if we don’t remember the mechanics of dancing. I finally take a few steps until I’m standing in front of her and weave my arms around her waist. She follows my lead by draping her arms around my neck, laying her head on my shoulder. The music moves our bodies and we sway back and forth, the smell of jasmine filling my nose, dizzying my mind. I close my eyes and my head is spinning. My whole life has been one big blur since Mom died. I’ve let too many moments pass me by, moments consumed by loss, towering over me until I became paralyzed, finally opening my eyes to a moment that was lost forever. With Fran though, something is different. I’m not willing to accept loss, only possibility, because that’s what I feel when I’m with her.

My breathing staggers as these thoughts push me over the edge, yet urge me on to finally open myself up to what’s in front of me—the slender arms embracing me and the gentle fingers brushing against the hairs at the back of my neck, the ones that stand from end to tip whenever she’s near.

“Fran,” I say into her hair and she pulls back to look at me, her face inches from mine.

“Hmmm.”

I reach out and brush her cheek with the backs of my fingers and she very subtly angles her head, letting me know she likes the feel of my hands on her skin. “We need to go.”

“What? Why?” She pouts, her plump bottom lip sticking out, making me want to drag it into my mouth.

My gaze drops to her lips before returning to her eyes. “Because I need to kiss you, Fran, and I can’t kiss you the way I want to if we’re surrounded by a crowd of people.” I lean in close, my breath a whisper above her ear. “I don’t want them seeing what I intend on doing to your mouth.”

She stills beneath my hand and when her tongue darts out to lick her lips, I decide it’s time to go. I pull her behind me through the bar and out the bronze French doors leading to a terrace overlooking the city.

A blast of muggy air hits us in the face and I scan the area, grateful for the fact that we’re completely alone. I tug Fran against me, placing my hands on either side of her face, my thumb brushing over the outline of her lips.

Her tongue sneaks out to dampen them and grazes my finger. That hint of wetness makes me crazy with desire, tasting her the only thing on my mind.

“Do you
want
me to kiss you, Fran?” I whisper, and she inhales a sharp breath. “Because I need to see what those lips feel like against mine, something I haven’t stopped thinking about since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Yes,” she breathes out, and takes me by surprise, pressing her mouth to mine, urgent and wanting. My tongue edges her moist lips and when she parts them, I slide inside, eliciting a moan so sweet that my cock stirs, a groan climbing from my chest. We melt against one another, tasting, licking, exploring. I flick my tongue back and forth over hers, the faint taste of rum and
God
, just Fran, wraps around me until we finally pull apart, our breathing heavy, our heartbeats frantic. Resting my forehead against hers, I thread my fingers behind her neck, massaging her skin, and goose bumps shimmer down her back.

I swallow, trying to catch hold of my breathing, but it doesn’t work because I’m too far gone and I sense she is, too. “Fran,” I rasp, “can we do that again?”

“God, I hope so.”

I grin before I crash my lips to hers, holding her mouth against mine, and she lets out a tiny whimper, spurring me to slip my tongue inside and capture it. She twines her arms around me, her fingers inching up my back to pull me closer and a shiver crawls down my spine.

Our lips and bodies remain locked for I don’t know how long, because I’m completely lost in the warmth of her mouth, the scent of her skin, the press of her tongue against mine. She is all-consuming and I am most definitely consumed.

We reluctantly back away from the kiss, both of us panting, our chests rising at a rapid pace. Her nipples are puckered through her dress, her lips swollen from our kiss, her eyes filled with desire. She’s fucking gorgeous and I’ve lost my words. I take her hand in mine and walk us over to the terrace wall, pulling her back against me. My arm snakes around her stomach, and for a split second she stiffens but then relaxes again. I know she must feel my erection, realize how much I want her.

She arches her head back and I place a gentle kiss to her temple as we stare out at the twinkling lights, the city bathed in bursts of color. “It’s really magical up here,” she says with a gentle sigh.

“Yeah, it is. I don’t know that I ever appreciated it as much as I do right now, here with you.”

She turns her head slightly to look at me and I steal her lips for a sweet kiss before we go back to being mesmerized by the mystery of the night sky.

“My dad bought me a really cool telescope,” I say, interrupting our quiet. “I think I was about eleven or twelve. Sometimes we’d wait until my mom was asleep and we’d sneak out into the darkness to check out all the stars. I remember he always told me to wish on the biggest ones because those are the wishes that would come true.” I let out a sigh filled with sadness. “I remember when I found out my mom had breast cancer, I wished so hard on one of those big stars, but.…” My voice trails off, not really wanting to go there.

Fran places her hands on mine, squeezing lightly. “Do you think you’ll ever see him again?”

I take a deep breath and rest my chin on the top of her head, the topic of my dad always a constant drain. “Caleb and I were just talking about this. I honestly don’t know how to reach him and I don’t even know if he’d want to see me.”

“But what about you? Do you want to see him?”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly, because I really don’t. He wouldn’t know the first thing about who I am now, and I certainly know nothing about the man he’s become.

I hesitate for a second before I ask my next question. Fran doesn’t talk much about her mom and dad and something tells me I might be skating on thin ice. “What about
your
dad, Fran?”

Her limbs tense underneath me and she lifts her head away, her posture rigid. “My dad…he’s…dead.”

“Jesus, Fran. I’m sorry. I had no idea.” And now I feel like an ass for bringing it up. No wonder she doesn’t want to talk about it. I turn her around to face me and cup her shoulders, meeting nothing but emptiness in her eyes. “Honestly, I’m so sorry.”

Her arms go around my waist and she latches onto me. I hug her tightly, giving her whatever she needs right now. She sniffles, and I continue to hold her, combing my fingers through her hair in a rhythmic motion.

“If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here,” I say in a soft voice and she nods her head against my chest but doesn’t let go.

I can feel her heartbeat, a slow boom against my own, the warmth of our bodies seeping into one another. She shifts and I kiss her hair before she backs away, staring into the recesses of my eyes, or maybe it’s my soul. I’m so lost in her at this point, I have no idea.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, fingering a strand of her hair and twirling it.

“I don’t know what I did, but you’re welcome,” I answer, taking a thread of her hair between my own fingers and rolling it around. “What do you say we go back in and find Caleb and Peyton?”