At the thick ropes of scars on my forearm, I say, “Blowtorch.” When she gets to my fingers—two of them not entirely straight anymore, “Boots.”
I stop her when she reaches for the bottom of my t-shirt. “No, Wren. Don’t.”
“Have you ever shown anyone? Besides doctors?”
Shaking my head, I try to take a step back, but my legs won’t obey. And this time, when she reaches for my shirt, I freeze, but don’t try to stop her. My heart thunders in my chest, and I have to ball my hands into fists to stop them from trembling.
“You’re too tall,” she says with a small smile. “Help me.”
Her soft words shatter my trance, and I snag the back of the shirt and yank it over my head. This is for the best. She’ll see me—most of me—and she’ll be so disgusted, she’ll go back to her room and we’ll go back to being…strangers. I can protect a stranger in Russia. Just not…someone I…need.
Except…she doesn’t run. Her palms slide over my pecs, around to my shoulders, and she never stops touching me as she circles me. “Whoever put you back together did a Cracker Jack job, you know.”
“Me.”
“What?” Her eyes widen, and she links her fingers with mine. “You—”
“We didn’t have medical care in Hell.”
I expect pity, but instead, I see awe in her gaze. “Well, you’re…”
“A monster.”
Now, anger flashes across her face as she brings my hands to her waist. “I was going to say ‘magnificent.’ Don’t put words in my mouth, Ryker. I can speak for myself.”
I don’t know how to respond, but she relieves me of the responsibility when she wraps her arms around me and rests her cheek against my chest. “Can I…stay with you tonight?”
Is she asking…? As I nod, I realize I don’t care what she’s asking for. A kiss, sex, or just someone to hold her while she sleeps…I’ll give it to her.
12
Wren
Well, I’ve done it. Demanded Ryker talk to me.Seeme. And now I’m in his bedroom. Staring at more muscles than I’ve ever seen. And more scars. The man’s skin looks like a jigsaw puzzle. But there’s beauty in his survival.
He keeps his arm around me as he leads me to the bed. I don’t have any illusions as to what this is. Two lonely, needy people taking solace in one another. Despite my insistence that I go with him to Russia, I’m scared to death. Hell, the plane ride terrifies me. I’m a nervous flyer under the best circumstances. Let alone riding a transport plane into a foreign country where I don’t speak the language and people probably want to kill me. Or worse.
“Do…you have a side?” I ask.
“No.” The single word carries more uncertainty than should be possible, and I slip out from under his arm and dart under the covers on the far side of the bed. I don’t know what I’m expecting. Sex? Cuddling? A few more of those kisses that rocked me down to my core? All of the above? Or…just company?
Ryker sits stiffly, his back to me, and I reach out and stroke a hand over his shoulder blade. “I don’t bite.”
“Too bad.” He jerks away from my touch, clears his throat, and then whispers a quick apology.
“Stop that.” Sitting up, I try to turn him towards me, but the man’s a mountain when he doesn’t want to move, so I scramble over the bunched-up blankets until I’m kneeling at his side. “Did I say I was offended?”
He darts a quick glance at me. “No.”
“You’re allowed to joke, Ry. Err. Ryker.”
“Ry’s fine. My…uh…coworkers call me that.”
“Not your friends?” In the brief flash of pain that darkens his eyes, I see the truth. He doesn’t have any. Or…he doesn’t think he does. “Tell me about them?”
With a sigh, he stretches his legs out, crossing them at the ankles, and lies back. I mirror his movements so he doesn’t have to look me in the eyes, but he reaches for my hand and links our fingers.
“West and Inara. There’s a new guy, Graham, but he’s only been on two missions. I don’t know him well enough to know if he’ll stick around.”
