Secret Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 5) by Marysol James Page B

hesitant, and Tessa pulled away a bit. “What is it?”
    He looked down at her, torn between telling her the truth and glossing things over. But lies and evasion never did anyone any good, in his experience, and no damn way he was starting things between them with holding back.
    “This ain’t your body, baby.” Slowly, he ran his hand over her angular hip, remembering by touch how generous and rounded it had been. “This ain’t you .”
    She was quiet, and he was worried that he’d upset her. But when she spoke, her words broke his heart.
    “And who am I, Curtis?”
    He froze at the pain in her voice. “You don’t know?”
    “No. I don’t have a clue who I am anymore.” She bit her lip, hesitated. He waited to see what she’d say next. “That’s why I… I’m finding it hard to believe that you love me.”
    “What?” He was shocked. “Why?”
    “Because how can you love me if you don’t know me?”
    “Wait up.” He shook his head at her. “You think I don’t know you?”
    Tessa looked away from his ferocious glare.
    “Hey.” His voice was a low, dangerous growl. “Look at me, Tessa. I mean right now.”
    She forced her eyes up. God, he looked pissed off, and suddenly she was sure that she’d messed this all up with him. Well, that was normal, right? She was a first-class fuck-up, and she knew that damn good and well.
    “I know you. I know the person that you really are – the one that you were before you lost those sweet, true parts of yourself. Before you lost all the best and brightest and most beautiful things about you.”
    Tessa stared up at him. In all the time that she’d known Curtis, he’d never strung more than a dozen words together. Not until the hospital, when he’d opened up his mouth and shown an emotional and almost poetic side of himself. Not soft or mushy, though: even at his most eloquent, the man was uncompromising and unflinching.
    “I know that you used to put two scoops of sugar in your coffee, and that you hid red licorice in your purse.” Curtis held the back of her neck loosely, his thumb stroking the side of her throat. “I know that you bought little gifts for the other girls, and hid them around the staffroom for them to find when they were having a shitty day at work. I know you baked cakes and cookies, and took ‘em to the battered woman’s shelter close to your apartment, and you’d stay there sometimes and play with the kids.”
    Tessa started. “How’d you –”
    “I know that you never talked about your parents at all, but you loved to hear about other people’s families. I know that you ordered in Thai food when your dickhead ex was away at one of his bullshit banking conferences. You loved chicken with green curry sauce and glass noodles, and you hid all the evidence before the asshole got home. You liked silver, not gold, and your favorite color was purple and you’d wear it almost every day. You used to sparkle , baby, just fucking burst with life and color inside and out. But lately? Lately you’ve been flat and gray. So goddamn sorrowful, and it’s ripped my heart out.”
    “Curtis,” she said, disbelieving and touched. “How do you know all of this?”
    “The staff at Curves talk, baby, and I don’t. I listen. I watch.”
    She gave a small laugh. “Yeah. That’s true. You aren’t known for being all that chatty.”
    “But I want to talk with you, OK? I want to know every single thing about you, and – fair is fair – I want you to know about me. All the things I don’t tell anyone, I want to tell you.”
    “You – you do?” Her green eyes were so clear as they studied him. “Even about your… how you grew up? Your childhood?”
    “Yeah. Even that.” Curtis paused. “You know it was bad, right?”
    “It had to have been,” Tessa said quietly, stroking the largest scar on his chest. “What kid never got a birthday cake?”
    His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Me.”
    Tessa’s heart clenched up tight for him. The