“You have to undress, too,” I insist. No way am I going to be the only one left exposed. Finally, he comes out from behind me and stands before me. It hurts to meet his mismatched eyes. It feels more real when I’m not looking at them through a glass mirror. For the first time, this moment with Zade feels consensual. And I’m not sure if I want that. But what fucking sense does that make? To not want it to be consensual. Yet, there’s some sick part of me that wants him to force this. So I can play victim later? Go on pretending that my pussy isn’t weeping for him and that I’m not anticipating the feel of him inside of me? It’s easier to play the victim when you’re not the mastermind behind all your bad decisions. “If you really want that, little mouse, then you’re going to have to do it,” he says quietly. He looks at me as if he doesn’t believe I'll willingly undress him. And I think he knows what that look does to me. The asshole knows exactly how incapable I am of backing down from a challenge. I pay him the same respect he paid me. I undress him slowly. Gently. Deliberately brushing my fingers against his skin and earning my own shivers and growls of impatience. I gasp when I remove his shirt. The scars on his face don’t end there. Two severe knife wounds blemish his skin—one cutting across his heart and the other across his defined abs. The skin is raised and jagged, a stark pink against his tanned skin. And they still hurt him. When I brush my fingertips over them, he tenses beneath my touch and bares his teeth. It’s not a physical pain. These scars have long healed. But they’re like icebergs. They’re unmistakable and imposing on the outside, but beneath the surface is something much bigger and threatening. Something capable of sinking someone to the pits of their depravity, just like the Titanic. They hurt him deeply on the inside, and I really want to know what caused them. Where there aren't scars, there are intricate tattoos. A dragon coils up his side and across his chest, fire blooming from its mouth and down Zade's shoulder. A mermaid rests on the opposite side, a beautiful woman peering over her naked shoulder. The mirrors allow me a full view of all the others covering his body—down both arms and his entire back. All beautiful and expertly done.