Sweet Hope

It was beautiful.

But on closer inspection, my eyebrows furrowed as I studied a number of slash scars and what looked like stab wounds on his abs and stomach.

They all looked bad, but none as painful-looking as the one on the back of his neck.

How the hell did he get them all?

I thought back to the numerous questions about his past which had gone unanswered: the tragic background to his sculptures, the tightly pristine made bed when I walked into the studio last night, the scars, and the fact he hadn’t been with a woman in years.

As I cast my eyes over his current sculpture, the boy with a gun, crying blood and bullet tears, one thought came to mind: Was he military? Was that why he was so closed off? So jaded by people… by life?

A loud beep sounded from across the room, the shrill noise waking Elpi, his dark sleepy eyes blinking open. I held my breath as he looked down. His eyebrows knitted together as if he was confused by seeing me sprawled across his chest. But when a hint of a smile hooked on the corner of his top lip, I felt a swarm of butterflies invade my stomach.

“Hi,” I whispered.

“Alright,” he whispered back in his sexy deep drawl. Leaning his mouth down to meet mine, our lips touched just as my cell sounded again.

Groaning at the interruption, I reared back. “I have to go,” I announced, reluctantly.

Elpi looked over to the large clock hanging on the far wall and nodded. His face darkened like a bad thought had run through his mind, but then it disappeared just as quickly as it came.

Pressing a final playful kiss on his hard abs, I rolled off the side of the bed, hissing as my bare feet hit the freezing cold tiled floor. As I moved to stand, Elpi’s hand caught my arm, causing me to glance back at him.

The conflict that played across his face confused me, but then on a reluctant sigh, he said, “Come back tonight.” It appeared to pain him to utter those words. My heart melted, knowing what displaying so much vulnerability must have cost him emotionally.

The butterflies in my stomach swooped and dipped again and, smiling, I nodded my head. “It’ll be late, though. I’m out with friends all day and most of the night.”

He threw me a curt nod, his face remaining unmoved and serious. Reaching out my hand, I threaded his fingers through mine. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

As he squeezed my hands, I blushed. I knew that was him telling me he wished I didn’t have to go either.

Resenting having to attend the Seahawks' season opening game today, I forced myself to leave the bed and dress.

Elpi sat up on the bed, the sheet riding low on his hips as he lit up a cigarette and held it between his lips, looking like a darker, more disturbed version of James Dean.

He was living, breathing poetry. Not love poetry, but the poetry which tears out your heart, rips it to shreds, pushes it back into your chest, and makes you question what the hell just obliterated your soul?

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him as I pulled up my dress over my breasts, his man bun seductively awry, his ripped tattoo-covered abs tensing as his arm moved up and down to hold his cigarette as he inhaled. When he blew out the smoke, small lines etched round his eyes; the severe effect screamed danger. I was completely infatuated with this man.

Elpidio caught me staring as he scratched his nails over the skin on his broad chest. His eyes lit with blatant desire, and he flicked his chin. “Get the fuck outta here or you won’t be going nowhere.”

Exhaling a shuddering breath at his curt demand, I strode to the bed, where Elpi balanced the cigarette on his full bottom lip—an action that was beginning to destroy me at how damn sexy it was.

When I stopped a foot away, Elpi reached out his hand to grip my hips, then jerked me closer until I lay sprawled over his body. Releasing one of his hands, he moved his cigarette from his mouth and blew out the smoke, the thick cloud billowing past my face, the rich tobacco scent mixed with his natural musk eliciting a groan from the back of my throat.

“You’re fucking coming back tonight,” he growled, making sure I knew to obey his command. At the uncensored heat in his eyes, all I could do was nod in agreement as his hand on my hip trailed down to run a finger along the outline of my pussy.

Forcing myself to bite back a moan and walk away, I picked up my purse from the floor and headed out without looking back.

As I opened the door of the studio, I sharply sucked in breath, letting the cool air calm me down. As I exhaled, I tipped my head to the sky and laughed in happiness.

My heart felt alive. My soul felt… my soul felt… fused… melded to Elpidio’s. There was no explanation other than I understood there was a good man beneath all the tattoos and the barrier he deployed to keep people at arm's length. A good man whose soul smiled when I played my favorite piece of music on the piano, a piece that meant so much to my heart. He’d had to make love to me…