“The fuck?” His voice is a growl – deadly. “What happened to you?” My blood turns to ice as he touches my scars, tracing them. I gulp. “Dancing.” “Don’t lie to me. Do I need to kill someone?” I scoff. “No. I’m not lying. They’re from dancing.” “Really?” he asks. “Why didn’t you have these before?” I close my eyes as I feel him pull my top up more, exposing every scar and bruise. “Fuck no, Stacey. Turn around.” “No,” I say quietly. “Turn. Around.”
