“What—why…?”
I couldn’t finish my sentence. Being this close to Paxton—wrapped in his arms, settled against his chest—set off a wave of longing that hit me deep in my soul. I looped my arms around his neck and pressed my nose into the indentation at his throat.
“I’m taking you to my bathtub. It has jets. Those help ease my bruises, so I’m thinking it’ll help with your scar tissue.”
I loved how easily he held me. “Nothing’s going to turn that skin supple again,” I said. “I’ll always be scarred.”
He inhaled deeply and blew it out with enough force to part my hair. “I know that.” He set me down gently in his bathroom, a wonderland of marble, glass, and brushed nickel. It wasn’t as overly large as I’d expected, but I hadn’t seen much of Paxton’s house yet. We’d come in through the mudroom off the main entryway earlier, and he’d taken me up the stairs to the guest room. We’d left through the front door a few minutes after that to go to dinner, and I’d only made it as far as the first seating spot in the living room afterward.
I swayed on my feet, completely done in by the flight, the extended intellectual conversation at NASA, and my much more emotionally fraught one with Paxton this evening. A hot bath sounded decadent.
I clasped the cool marble countertop and watched quietly as Paxton filled the tub. Once it was a bit more than halfway, he turned on the jets, causing a thick froth of bubbles to form.
He gnawed on his lip as he looked at me, then back at the tub. “You look wasted. I’m kind of afraid to leave you alone to get in and get out.”
I swallowed, nodding. “I might fall asleep in there,” I admitted.
He hissed a breath. “I’ll close my eyes while you undress, but I’m not leaving you alone, Hana.” His voice held a layer of steel.
I chose not to argue. “The water’s probably full enough,” I said.
He shut off the taps, and while his back was turned, I took a moment to enjoy the lines of his strong back and firm, thick buttocks. Hockey players had the best butts in sports, no question.
I pulled off my cardigan and set it on the counter. Next, I began unbuttoning my blouse. Paxton stared, transfixed by the progression of my fingers, until I cleared my throat. He flashed a sheepish grin before he slammed his eyes shut with a muttered apology.
My blouse joined my cardigan in the growing pile as I flicked the clasp of my bra. My breasts were a good handful but not as generous as many women’s. I wondered how they matched up to the others Paxton had seen. With a head shake and a sigh, I set my bra aside.
“What’s that about? Something hurt?” Paxton’s hands fisted but he kept his eyes closed.
Warmth seeped across my exposed chest and settled around my heart. If I received an offer and accepted the position here, I’d be able to be near Paxton…close enough for us to explore whatever remained between us.
Like he’d said earlier, for us to be healthy, we had to communicate honestly. So, though it went against my no-confrontation policy, I said, “I was wondering how I compared to the other women you’ve been with.”
“Hana.” His voice cracked. He tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling. Even from this angle, I could make out the furrow between his brows.
“Strip down with me, Paxton,” I said, shocking us both. His gaze flew to mine and held. I stood there, naked from the waist up. “Isn’t that what this is? A chance for us to be vulnerable—naked with each other?” I licked my lower lip, and he tracked the motion. “I’m not going to have sex with you tonight. This is…too fragile between us. But like I told you before, I miss you holding me.” My voice broke as I uttered my truth. God, how I missed his embrace. I’d never felt as safe as I did in Paxton’s arms.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
No. “Yes.”
He kicked off his shoes while his hand went to the button of his jeans. I watched, awed, as he revealed muscled thighs under tight cotton underwear. I gulped, trying hard not to fixate on the bulge between his legs. He caught my furtive glance and chuckled.
“You can look at me any time you want, baby. I’m excited you’re here, excited to be with you—in more ways than one.”
I swallowed harshly as I realized he wouldn’t—couldn’t continue to want me once he saw the rest of my scars. I forced my fingers to undo my pants and unzip them, letting them pile around my boots. The brace was stiff against my skin, which cooled as the air hit it, reminding me again that I was not perfect like Paxton.
He’d bent down to shuck his underwear, so I knew the moment he saw my battered legs. The left was the worst—the one that had been crushed by the twisted metal, but my right leg had also broken, along with my left arm, which had a surgical scar just below my elbow where the doctors reset that bone.
“Oh, Hana,” Paxton murmured. “What you went through…”
“I’m fine,” I responded. But it was a knee-jerk reaction, given without any real thought.
“No, baby. You’re not. And I just left.” He scooted forward on his knees and pressed his nose to my belly. He wrapped me in his thick, strong arms, a palm between my shoulder blades and the other at the curve of my spine to the top swell of my buttocks. He enveloped me, made me feel warm and safe, and…
I choked off a sob.
“I’m here now, Hana. I won’t leave you again.”
