He closed his eyes for a moment, content to feel the warmth of her skin and the puff of her breath against his neck, thinking that he could hold her forever and never get tired of it. “Officially not even in the same ballpark as jerking off.”
“Especially when I call in the middle and interrupt you?” she whispered.
“Especially then, although I let you interrupt me,” he told her. “I didn’t have to answer the phone. I guess I just wanted to hear your voice before I came.”
“Well, that’s hot. Feel free to call when you’re horny any time.”
“I think that sounds like an excellent idea.” He ran his hands down her back, still mesmerized by the freedom to touch her, the comfort he felt at the closeness of their bodies. “It feels so good to hold you.”
“Just hold me?” She pressed herself against his cock, which was already hard again.
“I can’t help it. I have a lot of time to make up on,” he said with a smile. “But I really do enjoy holding you. Will you stay? I’d love to sleep next to you.”
“Yeah, I’ll stay.” She smiled up at him, something tender, almost tentative on her face. “I already asked Elle to watch my foster dogs tonight, just in case. God knows I watched hers enough times when she and Theo were first dating.”
“Good.” He fingered the silver pendant on her chest, the one she always wore. “Does it have special meaning for you?”
“Well, it’s the Tree of Life, which has a lot of really cool meanings, but also it was a gift from my grandmother.” Her fingers brushed over his to touch the pendant.
They lay together for a few minutes of peaceful silence, just enjoying the closeness between them. His fingers encountered the scar on her arm, and he traced it idly, running his thumb over it like a map to her body. She shivered, pulling away. “Sorry. Does it hurt?”
She shook her head.
“Lord knows I have enough of them.” He lifted his arm, showing her the scar on his elbow where a horse had thrown him when he was sixteen. He’d caught it on the fence as he fell, needed several dozen stitches to close it back up. “Gives us character, right?” He cupped her cheek, not quite touching the scar there.
She turned her face against the pillow.
“Hey. You okay?”
“Fine.” But something in her tone had gone taut, her face still turned so that the pillow hid her scar.
He felt a tug deep in his chest, somewhere in the vicinity of his heart. He barely even noticed the scars when he looked at her, had never really stopped to think how she might feel about them. He supposed he’d just assumed she didn’t notice them any more than he did. In retrospect, that had been a stupid thing to assume. After all, he’d seen the way she sometimes wore her hair over her face, hiding behind it.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, although he wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for.
Megan’s gaze drifted toward the ceiling, her expression carefully blank.
“In my eyes, it only makes you more beautiful.”
She sat up, and there it was, that curtain of hair falling over her face. She made no effort to brush it away as she slid out of bed and walked into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her.
* * *
Megan stoodat the bathroom sink, glaring at herself in the mirror. This was meant to be a special night for Jake, and she was ruining it. She blew out a deep, cleansing breath before bending to splash cold water over her face. She closed her eyes as she patted her skin dry on the hand towel.
Moments like these, the scar was all she could see. It throbbed beneath the heat of her own gaze, seeming to redden from her shame. She had the irrational urge to claw at it, as though she could rip it off her face, be rid of it, be herself again.
But that was ridiculous. Her scars didn’t define her. At least, they shouldn’t. It was only her own foolish vanity that gave them power. So, why couldn’t she seem to reclaim that power for herself?
She needed to get a grip, like,right now.
And then she needed to get back out there and salvage this night, because Jake absolutely did not deserve her bullshit tonight or any other night. The man had suffered enough. He’d watched his wife die for nine years, and here she was being a drama queen about the scars on her face.
She gave herself one final glare in the mirror, fingers clenched around the edge of the counter, before walking back into the bedroom. Jake lay right where she’d left him, sprawled naked and handsome across the bed, his eyes locked on hers.
“You okay?” he asked as she slid in beside him, draping an arm across his stomach.
“Yes.”
