Taivon: Book Three of the Cantrell Brothers Series

Chapter Eighteen

“C'mon,” she said and patted the spot next to her.

The soft material of the couch hit her hands. It was a nice couch, with simple brown upholstery and leg rests that only came up with a pull of the lever. But Alix knew there was something better. That something was Taivon's bed. She hadn't even seen it yet, but already, Alix fantasized about being laid down on cool sheets, with his big body hovering over hers.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Alix looked up at the heightened blush on his cheeks. He still didn't look at her, rather just focusing his eyes down at the carpet. Her man was a nervous one, that was for sure. An entire month into their relationship, and he still didn't seem comfortable with more than a few things.

Which she didn't understand at all, because he had a body that any man would want to flaunt. But Taivon wasn't the flaunting type, she'd learned that from day one when he kept that Carhartt jacket on and his shirt tucked in, with that belt buckle secure on his hips.

Alix stood up and walked over to him, stopping only when his downcast eyes were forced to look into hers. She saw something that looked like anxiousness and a little bit of scared in those brown irises. She'd just have to prove that this wasn't scary.

“What are you so nervous about?” she asked, keeping her hands at her sides.

He cleared his throat but didn't move away. “What if you don't...like it?”

“What if I don't like what?”

“Me.”

“Taivon.” Alix ran a hand up and down one of those corded arms. “I wouldn't still be with you if I didn't like you.”

“But...what if you don't like how I feel?”

Raising her hand, she placed it on his chest and wound her fingers through his chest hair. “Feels just fine to me.”

“I have marks.” His own hand went to a spot at the side of his hip, where his palm rubbed against the skin there. “Scars.”

“Let me see.”

“It looks bad.”

She stood up on her tiptoes and gave his mouth a quick peck. “Let me be the judge of that.”

Alix moved his hand aside and turned him just so. His arm was in the way at first, but when she pushed it aside, he put up no resistance and let her look at the mark. And it was one hell of a mark. His skin was puckered into that familiar shine of scar tissue, a stark T in the middle of a scarred circle.

It did look bad, just as he'd told her it would.

She touched the strange marking anyway, wondering what it meant, if this was just another complex part about him. As her fingers glided ever so gently across the puckered skin, she could feel her body heating up. His skin all but burned hers.

The living room was silent, nothing but the sound of both their held breaths as the pads of her fingers glided over the strange symbol on his skin. She'd never seen anything like it before. It wasn't a tattoo that was for sure, but it looked like somebody dug in deep and pulled out the skin to form the strange T and circle.

His hand reached down to take hers then, but he pressed her palm into the skin. Heat shot through her body once more at the simple contact, making her arms begin to shake and her legs quiver. Alix let out the heavy breath, relieved that he was showing this sign of anything.

“What happened?” she asked.

“My little brother, Tobias,” he whispered, following her fingers with his own, “got really mad at me one day. I don't remember why – maybe from Battleship or something – but he chased me out of the house. He was about eight at the time, but when he got mad, he just didn't stop.