Within These Walls (The Walls Duet #1)(47)

Gwyneth Paltrow’s character, Viola had bound herself, dressing like a man to cover her high-society female form, so she could act in Romeo and Juliet. When her deceit is discovered, a fiery love scene quickly follows.

My eyes wandered over to the curve of Jude’s strong jaw. He’d shaved since this morning. When he’d kissed me, I’d touched his jaw where my eyes now lingered, loving the raw, masculine feel of his unshaven skin against mine. It was so foreign and unlike anything I’d ever experienced, and I yearned for more.

“You’re not watching the movie anymore,” Jude whispered.

“Yes, I am,” I answered, quickly glancing back up to the movie.

William was unwrapping the binding from Viola’s body as she turned and laughed. He was completely enraptured by her, watching her, as she spun playfully until he finally dropped the last of the cloth and took her into his arms.

“No, you were staring at me.” His tone was hushed as the love scene played on.

My breath hitched the moment I felt his finger brush against the fabric covering my collarbone, and I shivered as he brushed away loose strands of my hair.

“What were you thinking about?” he asked softly. I turned to find his intense gaze settled on mine.

“When you kissed me this morning,” I replied, completely forgetting about the movie playing before us. My eyes shifted to his beautiful full lips, and I felt my tongue dart out to wet my own.

“Would you like me to kiss you again, Lailah?”

“Yes,” I answered, the soft sound coming out more like a plea.

“Here?”

The pad of his thumb caressed the sensitive pink flesh of my lower lip as he hovered above me. He didn’t wait for an answer, and his mouth descended upon mine. Soft and gentle, he kissed me with aching tenderness that made my heart leap. His arms moved to cradle my body, and he pulled me closer. Then, I felt the warmth of his hand move to my neck.

“How about here?” he murmured against the hollow of my throat.

Rather than answer, I turned my head, exposing more skin. His head moved downward, and his tongue licked a scorching path across my ivory flesh. As his hand neared the hem of my shirt, my breath caught, and his fingers halted.

His eyes met mine. “You just tensed up. Did I make you uncomfortable?”

I shook my head, but my dismissal of the situation didn’t go unnoticed.

He quickly sat up. “Lailah,” he pleaded, “talk to me.”

I rubbed my hands together, avoiding his gaze. “I’m severely scarred,” I finally admitted.

Will he look at me differently now that he knows?

I was different though. He’d always known that.

But now that he knew I have physical proof, will it change how he looks at me? Will there be pity in his eyes or sorrow in the way he views my situation?

I’d seen the sad, empathetic looks from everyone else since the day I was born. I’d gotten the shoulder pats and stray tears from those who thought I’d been given the short end at life.

Will he join them once he sees the jagged scar running down my chest?

When he didn’t respond, I gathered the courage for a brief glance at him, and I was met with a penetrating warm gaze.

“We all have scars, Lailah. Some are just more visible than others.”

“What are your scars, Jude?” I asked, surprised and scared by my own words.

His eyes unfocused for a brief moment as if he’d lost focus with reality. When he finally snapped back, he gave a faint smile. “I’m hiding in plain sight, remember? I’m the estranged heir to a multibillion-dollar fortune. Can’t get much more scarred than that.”

My eyes wandered over his inked forearms. The swirling black patterns seemed to have no direction, no purpose. They just meandered down his arms without end.

Did he really ink his skin and change his appearance to disappear from society? Or was he trying to disappear from himself?

“Will you show me?” he asked hesitantly, his voice cutting through my thoughts like a knife.

My hands went to the lower hem of my T-shirt, and I took a deep breath of air, squeezing my eyes shut. I never wore a button-down or a V-neck, so in order to show him, I had to show him all of me.

Warm hands covered mine, and I opened my eyes to find his milky-green irises.

“Let me help you.” His fingers grazed my sides as he took the fabric in his hands before lifting my shirt over my head.

My heart beat faster, and I took several slow breaths to steady it. As soon as the fabric cleared my head, I instinctually moved to cover the pink line between my breasts that I’d had since birth. The same scar had been enlarged and modified with each surgery, growing along with me as I aged.

“Don’t cover yourself,” Jude said softly, pulling my hands away from my body. “You’re beautiful.”

His eyes were everywhere, and that astonished me. When I was shirtless, my scar always took center stage. It screamed for attention. Even medically trained doctors were drawn to it.

The moment Jude’s eyes fell on my half-naked body, he saw me, just me. He didn’t see my scar or a broken girl with no hope for the future. He saw me, and in his eyes, I saw passion and heat, no sorrow or pity.

“You’re beautiful,” he repeated, tracing his fingers over the pink skin.

My eyes fluttered close, and I moaned when his tongue traced the edge of my bra, leaving a wet trail across my breast and up to my mouth. Our legs and bodies quickly intertwined as our kiss intensified. His tongue tangled with mine, over and over, as I moved against him. I felt him harden against me, and rather than blush, I kissed him again, finally understanding what it felt like to use this womanly body I’d been given. His wandering touch slowed, and his frenzied kiss began to fade until he pulled back entirely.