Page 86 of The List
Cross stared at her, and she was half expecting him to leave. After ten seconds, she was kind of hoping he would. This had become way too awkward. The shirt had now become the focal point, and sex had been sidelined.Where’s the fun in that?
Cross started to the door, and she felt her stomach plummet.I take it back. I don’t want you to leave.But she wouldn’t ask him to stay. Maybe this was how it was all supposed to work out. Addison had said it herself, this was probably a mistake. Maybe he was thinking the same thing.
Cross grabbed the knob, but instead of walking out, he closed the door. He circled the room, sliding off his cut and draping it over the back of the chair. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head. This wasn’t the first time she’d seen his bare chest, but her internal response was the same. Her blood heated, and butterflies swarmed her belly. Bulging biceps, a sculpted chest leading down to his defined abs.This man should never wear a shirt.
In a move she hadn’t expected, he sat on the edge of her bed, unlaced his boots and pulled them off. He still hadn’t said a word. When he stood, he reached for his belt buckle, unlatching it in one pull. He lowered his zipper, dropping his jeans to his ankles. He bent down, shucked them off, and kicked them toward the dresser. Aside from his underwear, he was completely exposed.
He held out his arms. “Been cut by a knife more times than I can count. The one on the left was the deepest.” He lifted his arm, and she glanced down at the rippled, pink skin. “Spent four hours watching Ghost pick out glass shards, then another having him stitch me up.”
There were several raised scars scattered on his forearms and biceps but none deeper than the one he’d pointed out.”
“Is he a doctor?” she asked but kept her eyes locked on his scar.
“No. But the closest thing the club’s got to one. Hate hospitals, so I leave it to Ghost to patch me up for everything.” He lifted his arm over his head and slid his fingers over a patch of ruined skin. “He wouldn’t do this one. Said a bullet wound was above his pay grade, so I had to go to the hospital. Bitched the whole way there.”
Cross got shot? Her mouth fell open.
“How…”
He cut her off before she could ask how it happened. Cross took a few steps toward her and gave her his back. “Shit ton of road rash. Look close and you can still see the pavement. Three fucking wipeouts and I got the reminder on me for life.”
She reached out, sliding her hand gently over his shoulder blade. Her gaze scanned over his back. With all his tattoos, most of the scars weren’t visible, but still…there were a lot. He turned around, and she dropped her arm to her side.
He angled his head, pointing to his cheek bone. “This was what started it all when I was fourteen ’cause I thought it was a great idea to take out my dirt bike in the middle of the night with no helmet. Flipped it and went face first into the curb.” Cross snorted. “I got a lot of fucking scars, Addison.”
He grabbed her waist, but made no move to lift her shirt. “Showed you mine. Now show me yours.”
The sentiment was sweet, and she found herself almost overcome with emotion. But this was different. There was no explanation needed as to how she acquired her scar. They both knew it.
“I don’t want you to see it.”
“Why?”
“It’s ugly.” It was a lame excuse.
Cross smirked, leaning closer. “Yeah? Compared to my” —he cocked his brow— “pretty scars?”
That wasn’t her best argument. She inhaled a breath and spoke her truth.
“I don’t want you to stare at it.”And think of Knox.It was a vulnerable admission.
“Uh, baby—” His hands slipped up her shirt, spread over her breasts, and he slid the tip of his fingers over her nipples.
Addison gasped, and he leaned closer, brushing his lips over her ear. “Your shirt comes off, the last thing I’m gonna be looking at is your scar. Trust me on that.”
Her nipples beaded to tight points when he pinched them. Addison locked her thighs, trying to resist.
“Cross,” she whispered, but it came out as a plea.
He wrapped his arms around her back, picked her up, and carried her across the small room. When her legs bumped against the mattress, Cross maneuvered her onto the bed. He gripped the edge of her shirt, lifted it over her head, and immediately crawled over her body, forcing her to lay down. Before her head hit the pillow, he dropped his mouth to her breast and sucked her nipple between his lips. The strong pull had Addison arching her back and giving in to the sensation. She closed her eyes, blindly driving her hand over his head. His soft, thick hair threading through her fingers.
In her mind, she was slightly conscious of his careful attention to her breasts, purposely avoiding her scar. He was sending a silent message. It only took a second for her mind to forget all about it. He spread his mouth across her chest and took her other breast into his mouth, sliding his free hand down her stomach and into her leggings.
“Cross.” She moaned.
His finger strummed over her clit, teased her until she wiggled her legs, spreading them apart, and his finger dipped inside of her. She swiveled her hips and rode his hand, desperate for more. She fisted his hair, not even realizing the strength of her hold until he pulled back.
Cross pushed up on his knees, ripped down her leggings. She scissored her legs, whipping them across the room. Cross yanked off his underwear and without warning, sunk into her.
