He pondered that for a second, then typed, And to think, at one point, you hadn’t even known if you’d wanted to live.
As I read, he reached out to brush my scars lightly with his thumbs. He wasn’t ignoring them, choosing instead to acknowledge my pain. Whether or not he understood it didn’t matter. He accepted it as a part of me.
“I don’t...I can’t talk about it. Not yet, okay?” But I wanted to, felt like letting it all spill out.
He didn’t push, simply mouthed, Okay.
“I’ll bet people tell you things all the time—secret things—because they think it’s safe. That you’re safe.”
What do you think?
“That you’re the most dangerous person I’ve ever met. That anyone who thinks you’re safe is stupid.”
You don’t seem to mind.
“I never realized that dangerous might be exactly what I’ve been missing.”
And that scares you, that you might like it.
“Maybe. And maybe there’s such a thing as too much safety.” I paused. “I will tell you why I tried to kill myself.”
You think that will drive me away?
“Fair warning.”
Let’s just say I don’t scare easily.
“I don’t think I do either. Not anymore.” With that, I untied the cloth from his arm. And then I stared for a long moment, then blinked and looked harder.
I’d stabbed him right in the middle of a snake tattoo, a tattoo along his biceps tat seemed to undulate with the muscles of his arm. The snake looked exactly like the one he’d killed today. When I touched the tattoo, he jumped a little and I swore, for just a second, the snake was alive. Which was ridiculous. “How...”
He shrugged. Typed, I knew.
“That you’d meet me?”
Something like that. Signs were all there.
“You really believe in signs.”
I’m waiting for you to tell me you don’t.
I stared between the tattoo and his hands. He was threading a needle, and then he motioned for me to clean the wound and pat it.
When I did so, he hissed—silent, but I knew it was a hiss of pain—while I irrigated the wound. And then, as I watched, he stitched himself up, tied it off and showed me where to cut the thread. The thin black line was perfectly done and I cleaned it once more and then repacked the box while he got rid of the bloody trash.
He stopped me, though, pulled out two pills—showing me they were aspirin and an icepack he had to punch to fill—and he placed it on my head. I gulped down the pills with the water he gave me. I hadn’t realized the pain I was in from that asshole.
He was signing. I guessed it was so ingrained in him that he’d always sign first, no matter if someone couldn’t understand. But his eyes were so expressive that I knew what he was saying. “You’re angry Charlie hit me.”
He nodded.
“He never did before. I just can’t believe he’d sell me out to save himself.”
Mathias grabbed the alphasmart and typed, Sorry you had to find out this way. You’re better off.
“I think so too.” I let my gaze drift over his mostly naked body again. There were tattoos all the way down his arm, covering the backs of his hands, along with the heavy silver rings. I saw more ink on his neck and wondered if he was completely covered.
I’d spent weeks with heavily tattooed men and thought I’d have nightmares anytime I was in the presence of anyone like them. Instead, I was fighting an urge to take off my clothes.
“What’s happening to me?”
Mathias smiled, like he knew but wouldn’t share. I hadn’t taken any drugs in hours and I actually felt more clearheaded than I ever had. And when a giant blast of thunder shook the warehouse—and the ground underneath my bare feet—I jumped and Mathias ushered me into the van. He’d set up a bed back there, and he motioned between me and him and the doors. Then he signed something.
He was asking me if it was okay to close the doors, to close us both in here together. I nodded and he did so, which immediately made me feel more secure. If nothing else, it blocked out the sounds of the storm a little, and he helped that along with music he blasted.
It was Bad Company’s “Feel Like Makin’ Love.” He joined me in the back and I said, “A little obvious?” and he smiled, that wickedly dirty smile that made my stomach all fluttery. I was like...a girl. A silly schoolgirl who didn’t have to worry about anything, who could let the big, strong man take care of her. And I loved it.
I moved into his arms, onto his lap. All he did was watch me carefully, his dark eyes lazy-lidded and telling me everything I needed to know. I felt like nothing could touch me here with him and he was communicating that to me silently, but somehow more strongly than I’d ever thought possible. I’d never thought that not being able to communicate to someone would actually bring me closer to them. But that’s exactly what was happening.
Chapter Six
It just may be a lunatic you’re lookin’ for
Mathias
Jessa was trembling a little. I didn’t want to freak her out so I waited her out, but I couldn’t do anything about my cock pressing against her belly. Not when she sat in my lap.
Finally, she dropped her arms to her sides and took my hands in hers. She brought them up between us and leaned back so she could look at them. Her scars showed when she did that and she made no attempt to hide them. I think even if I hadn’t already felt them, she wouldn’t have had a problem letting me see them. But she was busy studying my hands, turning them over, running her fingers down mine.
They were just hands, big and strong and calloused, but for me, they were everything—the way I talked, the way I communicated, by sign or by touch. They sometimes took the brunt of my fights, which was inevitable. Because they were also deadly hands, and she knew that now, but she didn’t know everything.
They were weapons that could create a charmed tattoo or strum a guitar or take over a woman’s body and give her enough voice for the both of us. And even though she didn’t understand anything I signed yet, it didn’t matter. She definitely understood my hands.
The music pounded and I reached out to lock the van doors from the inside. I’d become oddly protective of someone I was pretty sure was just using me to prove to herself that she was most definitely still alive.
I didn’t need the reassurance, but she was in my lap, half sure but still trembling. And when I slid my hands up under her shirt and against the bare skin of her back, she arched against me. Ground herself against my cock and her eyes widened, like she didn’t recognize herself or her response.
I wasn’t playing around. Music thumped above the beat of the wind and hail. Everything rolled and the van shook the way I planned to shake her. But first, I grabbed the alphasmart and typed, You don’t have to sleep with me for protection.
Maybe it was too soon for her to believe me, but sooner or later, she’d make her decisions and we’d know one way or the other. But she nodded and brought her lips down on mine. That sweet lick of her tongue in my mouth, hesitant but willing, made it even better. Her hands shook a little as they slid into my hair, holding me there, keeping my mouth on hers. It was the sweetest thing I’d had in a while and I didn’t want it to end.
How anyone could be so sweet in all this shit amazed the fuck out of me.
She pulled back. “Don’t treat me like glass.”
The words went straight to my dick. I pushed the alphasmart out of the way as I laid her down on the mattress, because we didn’t need talk for this. I could use my mouth and my hands for other, more important things, and I set about doing just that.