He grabs my hand. “No. I don’t think I did.”
Before I can say anything, a loud clap of thunder erupts, vibrating the car.
The garage door opens, and one of Kaz’s men stands in the attached doorframe.
“We should probably get inside before it really starts to storm,” I say, slipping my hand from his grip.
His jaw tenses. He doesn’t like being interrupted, not even by mother nature.
After he pulls into the garage and cuts the engine again, he grabs my arm, stopping me from getting out. He drags me toward him, crushing my mouth with his own.
Urgency laces the kiss. His hand sinks into my hair, holding me firm. He kisses me until a moan escapes, until my eyes want to cross from the desire he pulls from me, until my brain skids to a stop.
“Do you remember the rule for our bedroom?” His voice heavy and dark.
“Yes, sir.” I bite down on my lip, fighting off a giggle.
It should be studied. This ability he has to get into my head and take control with such ease.
“Good.” He releases me and climbs out of the car, waiting for me to come around so he can lace his fingers through mine.
As we enter the house, the man who’d opened the garage door whispers something to Kaz. The tension is back in his jaw, and he lets go of my hand.
“I have to deal with something. Go up, I’ll be there soon.”
“Sure. Okay. I’ll just check on Tommy first.” After hanging up my coat in the closet, I head upstairs.
Tommy’s dead asleep. His favorite toy foam gun rests on the bedside table within reach, and his favorite comic book lays open on his stomach. I move the book onto the table and turn off the lamp.
He’s safe.
Nothing can touch him here.
Once in our bedroom, I kick out of my shoes and bring them to the closet. I strip out of my clothes and realize my robe is hanging in the bathroom. Since I have to wash my face and brush out my hair, I head there.
When I bring the towel away from my face, my heart slams into my sternum. Through the mirror I see him.
Kaz stands in the doorway. Anger twists his expression.
My robe. I haven’t put it on yet. My entire back is on display.
“Kaz.”
“What happened to you?” He grabs my shoulders when I try to turn around and twists me until he can see the scars.
“How did I not see this before?” His fingers trace the marks.
“You’ve never looked at my back before.” I turn around and frame his face with my hands. “It’s okay. They don’t hurt.”
“What happened?” he demands.
“My brothers.” I lift a shoulder. “Kaz, it was a long time ago.”
“Tell me.”
“When I was in high school, they had friends over, swimming in the pool. I wanted to join them, so I put on my swimsuit and jumped in. Marco told me to leave, I refused.”
“He hurt you because you wanted to swim?”
