I drape my arms around his neck and wrap my legs around his waist. He waits until I’m comfortable before he starts to kiss my chest, his tongue tracing the faint scars that rim one nipple. “What happened here?” he asks, indicating a crescent shaped mark.
I don’t want to talk about that. “It’s really not important anymore. Is it?”
The look he gives me suggests that he thinks otherwise. “How about here then?” He presses his cheek against my other nipple, the one so badly mutilated that I can’t even feel his touch.
“Coby…” I don’t like this. I pull away from him, cross my arms in front of my chest to hide my nakedness, and frown down at him. “Nothing, really.”