Cold-Blooded Beautiful Read Free Page A

paralyzing her.
    I knew everyone had a past. I knew she wasn’t some bright-eyed virgin when I met her.  She was a thirty-two year old woman who was one of New York City’s most renowned trauma surgeons, who spent six years overseas putting back the pieces of our broken soldiers.  This woman was tough, brave, and I just wanted, no…fuck , I needed to know how one piece of shit of a man, made her give up everything and run.  I mean, the man made her give up her career.  She was a surgeon , and I knew she loved it. I saw her save my brother’s life when he was gunned down in his bar.  I watched her eyes light up when her trained fingertips slid over his broken flesh, and like some sort of magic, stopped his blood from flowing out of his body.  Why would she leave all that behind?   
    She curled tighter beside me, nuzzling her face deeper into the soft folds of the blankets.  A faint glint of light fell through the open curtains, as the sun began to break over the horizon.  It landed softly along the smooth skin of her arm, making her ivory skin look as if she was cast in stone, and her beautiful skin that whispered her scent to me, the soft, smooth, ivory flesh that touched me like no other.  Despite the gentle rays of sun brightening on her, she somehow radiated light from within.  For months now, she’d been bloody illuminating my darkness, shedding light on my demons who lurked and hunkered down, drooling and growling in the corners of my messed up mind. I wanted to skim my fingers across her skin and wake her, make her tell me all her fears.  I wanted to destroy them, rip them to small confetti sized pieces, send them out to sea, and feed my savage demons with them. 
    I knew everything else about her, except for those fears, and that heavy weight of horror she’d carried around.  I knew the way she took her coffee was different for each flavor she chose. Regular coffee was black, but hazelnut, you add sugar.  Her choice of favorite color changed each day with her mood. Gray was for when she was sad, purple when she was happy.  I knew she loved her new job at the hospital where she’d been working for the last few months, but I questioned if it was challenging enough for her.  I didn’t get why she wasn’t put on the trauma team.
    I wanted to shake her awake and make her tell me everything.
    I wanted to bloody know why she wasn’t taken to be part of the trauma team at the hospital in town.  I had the right to know too, since my damn money was what funded their psychiatric wing for the last 10 years, and again, my money that helped build their suicide prevention campaign.  I wanted to know why, as the best trauma surgeon in New York City, she wasn’t given the head trauma position at the hospital.  Especially, since I specifically asked that she be interviewed for the position.   She still held all her credentials, still held all her licenses, just under a different name.
    Annnd , because I’m a mean dick, I poked her with my figures.  What?  Don’t give me that face, she’s used to my Kade-ness .  You should be too .  Come on, it’s me, Mr. Dark and intriguing with a side of fucked up .  Yeah, I’m pretty much priceless.
    She shifted against me as her eyes fluttered open. “Hey,” she sighed, lifting her head up off the pillows.
    Her hair spilled around her shoulders, and the comforter slid beneath her breasts.  Rose tipped nipples teased out at me, and immediately, I was lost in the thought of my mouth around one, nipping at it softly with my teeth.  I watched, captivated, as they trembled when she giggled at the way I was looking at her.  “You look hungry, Kade.”
    She was right.  And all my questions vanished.  The answers could wait.  Tasting her flesh was more important.
    “Starving,” I whispered, lapping my tongue around a nipple, as it hardened and puckered tightly between my lips.  Head tipping back, she arched her body closer to me and sighed.  My mouth