“What?No.” I shake my head emphatically. “Marco, no. Not even a little bit.”
“But... the scars.” He winces when he says the last word.
“The scars are proof you fought a fucking bear and lived.” I step closer, not quite touching. “They’re marks of yourcourage. Of how far you’d go to protect the people you love.”
His jaw works. “Jess.”
I hug him from behind, resting my head against his powerful back.
“Three neutral facts,” he says softly, and his chest hums beneath me. I look up, and watch him recite to his reflection: “Left zygomatic ridge healed. Hairline ridge present. Eye tracking intact.” He smiles sadly. “That’s what I learned from the mirror circle.”
“My turn.” I meet his eyes in the mirror, not releasing him. “You’re still stupidly hot. Your scars make you look dangerous in a way that probably shouldn’t turn me on but absolutely do. And I think I might love you.”
The last part comes out before I can stop it.
Smooth, Jess.
Just drop the L-word like you’re ordering coffee.
But Marco starts to turn around, so I release him.
He looks down at me with an expression that makes myknees weak.
“Did you mean what you said last night?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “At the cafe? About loving me?”
His response is immediate. “I did. Even though I was married. Even though it made me feel guilty every single day. I’ve loved you since Vegas, Jess. Through all the guilt and shame and hiding. I’ve loved you.”
“And you’ve set me free,” I whisper back.
He kisses me.
It starts tentatively. Like we’re both afraid the other might break.
Then it deepens.
His good arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer. I thread my fingers through his hair, careful to avoid the fresh scab at his hairline.
Holy shit this is happening.
He makes a low, pained sound. For a moment I think he’s utterly turned on like I am, but then I remember.
I pull back. “Your shoulder.”
“It’s fine,” he grits out.
“Liar.” I tell him. “One-two-three, brave. Breathe with me.”
We count together. His breathing evens out. The tension in his jaw eases slightly.
“Maybe we should call it a night,” I suggest, even though every part of me is screamingNO DON’T YOU DARE STOP NOW.
“Hell no,” he says firmly.
Thank God.
Still, I say: “Marco...”
“Jess.” He cups my face with his good hand. “I’ve waited weeks for this. For you. I’m not stopping because of some nerve pain.”
