Scarred Beauty Read online

  Chapter Six

  Noelle sat in the hotel room, her palms sweating and her heart beating rapidly. She had made a mistake. There was no way she could phone an escort with the idea of spending time together. Shaking her head, she fumbled round the room, grabbing her purse and sweater. The mistake had been all hers. She went for the door, opened it and collided with a hard male chest.

  His arms came round her, stopping her from falling flat on her face.

  Her hair covered the scar on the right side of her face as she looked up the long length of body to find the most amazing dark brown eyes staring back at her.

  “Where are you running out so fast?” the mystery man asked.

  “I’ve got to go.”

  “What are you doing in this hotel room?”

  “I reserved this hotel room.”

  He hadn’t removed his hands, his thumbs rubbing circles where they lay. She felt the heat pool inside her body from the smallest of contacts.

  Get over yourself. He’s a hot man who wouldn’t want anything to do with you.

  “Then you must be Elle.”

  “Noelle,” she said, correcting him. He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head back. He stared into her eyes stopping her from breathing from his intense scrutiny.

  “I want to call you Elle.”

  Her hair had fallen away from the scarred part of her face. She pulled out of his hold and back into the room. Her heart pounded from the contact of a man while she panicked in case he ran out screaming. She felt like a monster with the way her face was.

  “Don’t hide from me,” he said. She watched as he closed the door turning the lock. The sound echoed around the room making her shiver.

  She was alone in a hotel room with a man she didn’t know.

  Bad move. Bad fucking move. Next time, Noelle, think of what you’re doing.

  “I promise I won’t hurt you,” he said. She noticed he didn’t move away from the door. They stared at each other. Her hair had fallen back to cover one side of her face. “You look scared.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He moved away from the door and sat on the bed. Noelle couldn’t get over how handsome he looked. He was older than she. She saw it in the lines on his face and the easy way in which he carried himself.

  His dark hair looked thick and silky. She wondered what it would be like to touch him and feel him against her. He had dark eyes, darker than anything she’d ever seen. His whole presence spoke of power and wealth. She didn’t know why she thought that, but looking at him he fit the wealthy role.

  “Do you like what you see?” he asked.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”

  “Look as long as you like. You may come closer if you wish.”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine standing here.”

  He smiled which lightened up his whole face. She had the sudden instinct to draw him. She wanted to capture the beauty of the moment. He looked so at ease with himself.

  Gazing down the length of her body, she was drawn to the strength of his arms. The white shirt he wore was tight around the muscles of his upper arms. Everything on him looked thick and sturdy.

  “Do you work out?” she asked.

  “Sometimes.”

  “You can tell.”

  “You don’t work out,” he said. Noelle blushed as she gazed down at her body. She enjoyed eating, and her body showed her love of food. Her dress sizes were in double figures. The last time she checked she was well into a size sixteen with some skirts being eighteen. Her body was full and rounded. Exercise never appealed to her. Running outside would never happen for her, and running in one place was not an option.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I love the way you look.”

  She frowned and lifted her gaze to him. He was looking up and down her body. “This feels awkward.”

  “Then come closer, and we’ll get to know one another.”

  With small movements, she walked to where he sat on the bed. He took her hand and set her down next to him.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Isaac.”

  His name played in her mind. She liked the name. It suited him.

  “Do you have a last name?”

  “Just call me Isaac while we’re here.”

  Isaac hadn’t let go of her hand. She found herself staring at the connection they shared. His hand was darker, sun-tanned, which was a complete contrast next to the pale untouched colour of her skin.

  He reached out to touch the side of her face that was covered by her hair. She stopped him capturing his hand in hers. Both of their hands touched. His heat penetrated her cold palms. He represented everything she wasn’t, hot, sexy, warm, and many wonderful feelings she could only wish to think about.

  “You’re cold,” he said.

  “My hands always are.”

  “I want to see you, Elle. Trust me. I’m not like other men.”

  Tears filled her eyes as panic erupted inside her. Most men ran away from her. By holding his hands she felt a need inside her to be close to this one man. What if he ran when he saw her scars?

  “I’m afraid.” She bit her lip to keep the tears at bay. For too long she’d let her tears fall and given into the fear that claimed her.

  “Then fight it. You’ve already won half the battle in being here with me. You could have given in and not come at all. You’re here. Slowly, you’re fighting for what you want.” He pulled out of her grip and placed his palm on the right side of her face over her hair.

  She found herself breathing hard and staring into his sinfully dark eyes.

  “Trust me.”

  She nodded her head as he moved her hair out of the way. Her breathing stopped as her hair went behind her ear, the right side of her face exposed for him to see. Noelle closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to see the disgust on his face. The bed moved, and she expected to hear the sound of the door.

  “You really went through some pain during this.” Opening her eyes she watched as he settled on the bed, facing her. He cupped her cheek and tilted her face up for a better look. His thumb touched the line from under her eye, down her check and neck to settle under her shirt at her collarbone.

  “Don’t you find it ugly?” she asked.

  “No. You went through hell during this, and these scars are your own war wounds. Most people’s scars are on the inside where no one can see them. You should be happy with them, Elle. You’ve lived through what caused them.”

  “But they’re ugly.”

  “Only to people who don’t understand what you’ve been through. I don’t understand, but I respect you for it. Are they the only scars?”

  She shook her head.

  “Can I see them?”

  “They’re under my clothes.”

  “I promise to be a gentleman. This is our time, Elle, to do what we want.” He placed a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him.

  The tears she held in fell down her cheeks. He wiped them away with gentle fingers.

  “I’ll show you.”

  Isaac stood and began unbuttoning his crisp white shirt. She didn’t protest as a hard, tanned chest was revealed to her. His chest was hard and firm. His stomach had a six pack, which any actor would want. There wasn’t a single ounce of fat on his body. She wrapped her arms around her waist to comfort herself. There was no way she would be showing this god her body.

  He sat down next to her. “Touch me.”

  “What?”

  “I want you to trust me. Touch my body. I have no visible scars to show you, but my body is yours to touch as you like.”

  She gazed at the beautiful male chest and reached out to touch him.

  ****

  Isaac was a goner. The moment he’d seen her something had awakened inside him. A deep profound longing held him in its throes. He stared at her scars and saw nothing but the beauty inside her. She looked so lost and alone, and he wanted to be the man she could rely o
n. The type of man she could trust. Sitting across from her with his shirt off, he craved her touch more than his next breath.

  She was so much smaller than he. While she stared at his chest, he looked his fill of her gorgeous body. Most of the women in his circles were health conscious, always worrying about what they ate. All the women he’d dated had spent a great deal of time telling him the benefits of one diet or the other. As if they could tell him how important they were based on the effort they put in to be so thin. He’d grown tired of the bags of bones. He wanted a woman who loved to eat and laugh, a woman who could take being bent over a hard surface and fucked for hours without breaking.

  His cock pulsed at the image of Elle bent over the bed, her legs open wide as he screwed her hard and fast. The thoughts of her naked were going to drive him crazy. Brad had asked him to make sure there would never be any visits like this one.

  Could he let Elle go after only just finding her? She intrigued him, fascinated him, and they were only on their first meeting. He winced as her cold hands touched his chest. Her touch sent heat throughout his entire body. He watched her face and thought about what Brad had said. She’d never been with any men. The accident had happened a great deal of time ago. Did she know the scars were faded? The scars had none of the redness that was often seen on recent injuries.

  In his world, she’d be torn apart for the way she looked, but to him, she was the most beautiful woman he’d seen in a very long time.

  His life had been filled with self-centred women whose only desire was to break into his bank balance. Elle had no such desire as she didn’t know who he was. For the first time since making the arrangement with Brad, Isaac saw the benefit he could get from it. When he was with her, he could be the man he wanted.

  Isaac Welch no longer mattered. He could be Isaac, a man with no intentions but to make Elle happy.

  “You’re so warm,” she said.

  He covered her hand with his. “I like your touch.”

  “This seems so surreal, Isaac. Is this what happens on your usual business days?”

  He didn’t have a clue what other escorts did, and he no longer cared. Elle was his for the taking. He knew Brad had only wanted him to do the one day, but he wanted to see more of her. The connection he felt was more than he could understand.

  “I don’t want to talk about other business days. I want to get to know you. What do you do with your days?” Isaac put his hand on top of hers and stared into her eyes.

  “I’m a painter.”

  “An artist?”

  “Some people call me that. I just love to paint. What do you like doing with your free time?”

  “Reading. I have a thing for classic books.”

  “I read romance in my spare time,” she said.

  Isaac smiled.

  “What made you decide to seek my services?”

  She licked her lips, the action making his cock harden further. Did she not know how erotic she looked?

  “I wanted to spend some time with a man. Getting to know him and maybe progress to something further. It is stupid I know.” She went to move her hand away. Isaac held onto her.

  He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her if he tried. The endless amount of empty fucking had led him to look for something more. The woman before him held exactly what he was looking for.

  “I don’t think you’re stupid. I think getting to know each other is one of the best forms of intimacy. I want you to promise me that the moment we are in each other’s company we are completely honest with each other. Will you promise me that?”

  After several seconds she nodded her head. “I can promise to be honest. Will you do the same for me?”

  “I will be completely honest with you.”

  He would keep his true identity from her, but everything else would be the truth. Cupping her face, he ran his thumb down her scar. The mark didn’t mar any of her beauty. In his eyes, she epitomised what true beauty was supposed to be. She held substance and depth. Her emotions were full and plain to see if you looked hard enough. Brad had found himself a real treasure, and Isaac envied the time he’d already spent with her.

  “I’ve only had one friend who has touched my scar. He’s really nice. I think you’d like him. He’s got a brother called Isaac,” she said.

  Smiling, he held his tongue. The instinct to tell her he was the brother she spoke of was so strong. He held back for fear she would feel hurt. Time would only heal so much. He wanted more time with her before he told her who he was.

  “Will you show me your other scars?”

  “I don’t want to take my shirt off in front of you.”

  “I’ve taken mine off. Show me who you are, Elle.”

  She bit her full bottom lip, her gaze going from him to the door and back again. With a nod of the head, she stood up and began unbuttoning her shirt. He watched as each button released, revealed silky, cream-coloured skin. She did not get out in the sun much or use fake tanning lotion. Everything on her body was natural, apart from her hair colour. The blonde in the picture suited her better. The colour really showed up the paleness of her complexion.

  Her shirt went to the bed as she stood in front of him. Her white lacy bra made her look so young and delicate. Isaac felt like a bastard. He was older than she, and he wanted her more than anything. His intentions were not all innocent. He wanted her with a passion that only a man of his age possessed.

  Staring at the top part of her body he saw the white lines from her accident. Reaching out, he touched her. Her stomach wasn’t flat like the women he was used to. She had curves. Her waist spanned out into large, full hips that he knew he would be able to grip as he pounded deep inside her cunt. The fire burning inside him was growing brighter with every moment.

  “What caused these?”

  “I don’t talk about it.”

  “Would you tell me?” he asked. Their first meeting was about taking it steady. She sat down next to him, her nakedness clearly forgotten in the moment.

  He only had her shirt off, and he wanted to fuck her. Instead, he glanced at her. For the first time in his life, he sat and listened to her, not pretending while he thought of something else. He really listened.

  “I was nine when it happened. My mum and dad got into a fight about his drinking. Dad had always liked a drink. I used to make him a vodka summer juice drink. Orange juice, summer fruit juice, and vodka. I loved the smell, and he always seemed to like me making it.”

  Isaac felt so incredibly significant for her to be telling him this.

  “Anyway, they argued, and dad stormed out. Said he was going to the shops, and he took me with him. Only he didn’t go straight to the shops but to the supermarket. I’d forgotten to put on my seat belt, and dad had been driving. My mum was at home apparently frantic as she called the police. Dad didn’t see the car coming towards him. He was so drunk he couldn’t even drive in a straight line. No one was hurt, but I went through the windscreen on the collision. The doctors considered it a miracle I survived with the small amount of scarring I got. I don’t remember much, only seeing the headlights of the other car followed by the crunch of metal. After that I heard my mum screaming at my dad. Since then, they always seem to be screaming at each other.”

  Tears had fallen down her face as she told him the story. He didn’t think Brad knew the true extent of what had happened.

  “You survived.”

  “I survived.”

  Chapter Seven

  They lay down on the bed, talking. Noelle left her shirt off. They held hands, lifting their intertwined fingers to look at in the light. For the first time in her life she felt close to someone.

  “How old are you?” she asked. Since meeting him she’d wanted to know how old he was. Glancing over at the clock on the bedside table, she saw it was gone ten. They’d been together for an hour and a half, but it felt longer to her.

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty.”

  “I don’t want to tell yo
u my age,” he said.

  “Please tell me. I know you’re older than I. I won’t judge.”

  “I’m forty. Old enough to be your dad.”

  “No, you’re not. My parents had me later in life. He’s sixty years old. I was a late baby.” She ran her hand down his arm feeling the strength in his muscles.

  “At least you’re not running out of here calling me a pervert.”

  Noelle laughed. “If anyone ran out of here it would be you.” She burst out laughing. Her hair was pulled back from her face where she lay on the bed.

  “This hotel room is depressing. The decorators really need to upgrade.”

  Their conversation made her giggle.

  The hours passed, and their conversation took on light tones. They talked about their likes and dislikes, each getting to know the other. Noelle had never felt so close to someone before. She enjoyed the easy way in which she could talk to him.

  “Do you have a problem with me being older than you?” he asked.

  She found his age sexy. He was more mature than most people she’d come into contact with.

  “I don’t mind your age.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to want to continue seeing me? We can talk or do something else,” he said.

  “I would like to see you more. If you don’t mind?” She rolled over to face him.

  “I’d like that. Shall we say the same time every week?”

  “I’d like that,” she said.

  “It’s getting late. Can I drive you back to your place?” he asked.

  “Do you think you should? Is that what you usually do?”

  Noelle watched as a flash of annoyance crossed his face.

  “I like you, Elle. I’ll make an exception to see that you get home safely.”

  They left the hotel room ten minutes later after they got their shirts and coats back on. The moment she left the comfort of the room she put her hair back over her face. She handed the key back over to the manager. Isaac stood outside waiting her.