"I was wondering what kind of girl could have botched up a rescue attempt so badly. Now that I know it was you all along, everything makes sense."
"Go away."
Rome runs his nose down the side of my face, smiling at the way I shiver. "After all thes...
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ON THE NIGHT DURING THE MISSION, ROME MANAGES TO PERSUADE ME INTO SNEAKING OUT INTO A ROMANTIC GETAWAY. We kiss each other until we're out of breath. Rome unbuttons my shirt with his powers, letting it slip off my shoulders and drop to the floor. I clench onto his shoulders, my gasps rattling in my ears. He smiles into the curve of my neck. I'm still not used to the way his hands move. Quick and teasing, they skim over my curves and along the scar on my back -
I arch forward. "What are you doing?"
"Take a guess."
Rome leans forwards, allowing me to slip my hands under his shirt. The muscles of his chest and stomach flex under my palm. "Why are you touching me there?"
"I've touched you in stranger places," He points out. "You've never complained before."
I open my mouth to reply and he kisses me instead, releasing me only to nibble on the side of my back. It's a spot he knows that I enjoy. Like a cat stretching out in sunlight, I let myself relax under Rome's touch. Then, his other hand traces the ridges along my scarred skin. Panic slices through the pleasure.
I grab his chin, tilting it up so our eyes meet. His expression nearly stops the words coming out of my mouth. Instead of the typical lazy and satisfied attitude he has, this time he's more serious and determined. "Stop."
"Stop what?" In a quick, sudden move, he flips me over and pins me to the wall, pressing his lips to the base of my neck. Shivers run down my spine. "Stop touching you here? What's wrong with your scar?"
I press my forehead against the cool wall. "You're only paying attention to it because Ava pointed it out."
"She did point it out. Do you remember what you said in response?"
I do remember. But instead of admitting that fact, I shrug.
"You said you were proud of yourself. A strange remark considering you still refuse to look at yourself properly in the mirror."
I squirm, but he has me pinned. "I do look at myself in the mirror."
"You don't like to get intimate with the lights on. And now you're scared of me touching your back," Rome waits for me to respond. When I don't, he sighs and releases me. "What are you so worried about?"
I turn around and cross my arms over my chest. Now that Rome puts distance between us, the cold starts to sink into my bare arms and stomach. My shirt, a tight button-up, sits neatly in the corner. I wish I had my shirt on. What am I supposed to say? That I hate the way my body looks - that I don't want him to look at me.
"I trust you," I mutter.
"I know you trust me," Rome straightens up to his full height. He puts one hand on each side of my head and leans down so our eyes meet. "Winifred, I want to see all parts of you."
