Scandalous 2 Page 0,41

hue. It makes my skin look like snow. Every inch of me is painted with that layer first. As Jack runs the brush over my body, I try to ignore how sensual this feels, but I can't. When Jack finishes the base coat, he looks at me and smiles.

"It is so hard to stand here with you and not throw you to the floor and have my way with you. Talk about something while I work. Tell me a secret that nobody knows." Jack goes back to his paints, this time sloshing huge amounts of violet, blue, and white across my hips. The paint is so cold, but I don't move. His question sent a memory surging forward.

"A secret that nobody knows..." I breathe hard, lost in the memory. "Do you remember our prom?" Jack nods. "I had a cut on my cheek that night. When you pulled me into the corner and asked who did it, you were on the right track. It scared me to death. I made it through eighteen years without a single person noticing but you."

Jack's brush stills as he looks up at me. My eyes sting. I blink, clearing the memory away. "Abby," he breathes, with so much concern in his voice that it kills me.

"Keep painting. I can't talk about this with you looking at me like that." Jack's eyes hold mine for a moment, but he nods and continues painting.

"I bought my dress a few weeks before. I'd gone shopping with Kate and paid for it myself." I smile thinking about it. Kate picked up the sluts-r-us dress and I picked up something more classic. It was a strapless sapphire blue gown with a long flowing skirt. "I was so happy that afternoon when I was getting ready. Kate and I got our hair done. My mother came with us and fussed over both of us. Kate's mom was overly critical and Kate didn't want her around. Anyway, after we dropped Kate off, Mom took me home to finish getting ready." My voice grows quieter as I speak, the memory becoming more vivid, choking me. I blink and clear my throat, forcing a smile. I look down at Jack, but he doesn't look up. He continues to paint swirls of color across my body. He's working his way up my torso with splashes of green.

"Go on," he says, his voice tight. The grip he has on the brush is so tight that I think it might snap.

"Well, Daddy and Mom had dinner without me while I put on my make-up. When I came out of my room, my mother beamed at me, but my dad - he looked angry. I was so proud of myself up until that moment. I thought I looked beautiful. I thought..." My voice cracks. I swallow hard and continue. "We fought. Mom did nothing. She just stood there and watched. The cut on my face and the bruise was from him. He told me that I looked like a slut and forbade me to leave. I tried to leave anyway. He caught my arm as I ran out of the house. His fist just missed my eye. His wedding ring did that to my face. It was like getting hit with a crow bar." My fingers touch the spot. The memory still burns inside of me. "He was drunk, although he'd never admit it. Things like that happened when he was like that. That's the reason why I never touched the stuff. It was a promise I made to myself when I was a kid." I breathe in deeply.

Jack stills. I know he wants to stop, but if he does, I'll burst into tears. "Keep painting, Jack. There's more to the story." His brush goes back to work. His eyes move across my body, painting just below my breasts. "Up until then, I thought I was totally alone, that no one knew - no one cared. Then this guy who wasn't even my date, pulled me into a dark corner and pinned me to the wall, demanding to know the name of the ass that bashed my face in. You thought you could save me, even then."

"I would have," he says, his voice too tight. "I didn't realize it until then. I thought your date hit you."

"It would have been better if he did. At least I could have gotten away from him." I pause for a second and say, "I'm glad we shared so much time