They’d gone one more round after dinner. While their time in the hot tub had been wild and fun and raw, this last time mayhave been his favorite. In his bed, face-to-face, slow and sweet and gentle. He’d taken the time to explore every part of her body. Kissed every silky, soft inch of her skin. Every scar.
And there had been scars. Jagged scars along her ribs that had piqued his curiosity, but he’d shelved his questions. It hadn’t been the time or the place. Especially since she’d tensed when he’d kissed them. At the time, her apparent anxiety had made him even more determined to get her to relax again, to put her at ease in his arms, to make her boneless. To give her his all.
A small smile lifted his lips. It was nearing ten at night, and they were still cuddled in bed. Still spent. Still naked.
Mission accomplished.
She was sprawled over him, and as he’d been doing for the last handful of minutes, he traced his fingers up and down her spine. He loved how she sank into him, utterly relaxed. Her hair was draped over his chest, and he wasn’t embarrassed to admit he’d buried his nose in her hair countless times to inhale her soft floral scent. In a ridiculously short amount of time, this woman had slipped under his skin, under his defenses, and deep into his heart. And he had no intention of letting her go.
With the only light in the room coming from the fireplace, he traced his fingers over her shoulders and then dipped them lower and traced the scars along the left side of her ribs. For a split second, she tensed. A warm satisfaction coursed through him when she relaxed a moment later.
He knew it probably wasn’t the wisest idea, but his curiosity nagged at him. “Tell me about these?”
Tension returned to her body, and he wanted to smack himself upside the head.Holy fuck. What the hell is wrong with you?
He hugged her tightly, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “Shit, I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, it’s alright,” she murmured as she shifted off him.
She lay on her left side—with her scars no longer in view—and he rolled onto his side so they faced each other. The sorrow coloring her beautiful face punched him in the gut.
“Freya, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
She shook her head and let out a breath. “They’re from a car accident.” He didn’t think her expression could get sadder, but it did.
“Frey?” He gently brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Worry churned in his gut as her eyes glistened, filling with tears. His heart ached when a single tear escaped and dripped onto the pillow.
It took her a few moments to find her words, but he remained patient. When she finally spoke, his heart stopped.
“I killed my best friend.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Holy shit.That wasn’t how she’d planned on telling him. But it was the truth. The god-awful truth. And now the words were out there.
After she’d blurted out those five words, she’d dropped her gaze to his chest. She watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath, analyzed every detail of the golden skin that she’d kissed not too long ago.
Because she didn’t want to see his expression. Didn’t want to see him look at her with horror. With disgust.
Today had been spectacular. While getting pushed and banged up had been awful, she didn’t regret any of it, because it had led to this. Being with Xander. Wild sex and making love and all the intimate, mind-blowing moments in between. Starting the day and ending it in his arms had warmed parts of her soul that she hadn’t known existed. It had been a truly wonderful and life-changing day.
Then he’d asked one simple question, and she had to go and ruin it.
She could have easily evaded and given him a watered-down version of the truth. But he didn’t deserve that. Hell, he deserved so much better than her.
God, this sucked.
Awkward seconds ticked by, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze.
Then he gently pressed a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. “Freya,” he whispered. “Please look at me.”
When she met his eyes, her heart squeezed with surprise. There was no horror. No disgust. Only concern. And so many unanswered questions.
“Talk to me, Frey. Please.”
For a moment, she froze. God help her, she wanted to, wanted to tell him everything. But fear held her back.
He pressed his lips gently against hers. A quick kiss that was feather-light and calmed her heart with its simplicity.
