Sitting back, I decided thatI’dmore than earned a show. Another time I would have liked to touch him, peel hisclothes off piece by piece, but not right now. Gray seemed to be in the mood todo most of the work, and selfishly, I wanted him to.
For once in my life, Iwanted someone to take care of me, and maybe even enjoy doing it.
Gray tossed his jacket overthe chair in the corner, pausing to finger the hem of his t-shirt as though hewasn’tnaked from the waist down already.
For a moment I thought itwas weird, and then I remembered the scar. I’d touched it, but I hadn’tseenit.
Maybe I wasn’t the only onewho worried about what I looked like.
“Let me?” I asked, standingand moving in front of him, reaching out to touch the hem as well.
Something told me Grayneeded someone to take care of him, too, and I suddenly, desperately wanted tobe that someone. He deserved the world.
Gray’s eyes met mine for a longmoment, the stormy blue dark and just a little uncertain, but then he nodded.
This was important, Irealized. Gray didn’t strip off in front of just anyone. I hadn’t even paused tothink about it before, but it made all the sense in the world now that Ihad.
It was one thing to talkabout it, but another thing entirely to let someone else see the particularplaces you were broken in. Especially when there was a big, physical mark onthem.
Slowly and carefully, I slidmy hands under Gray’s t-shirt, pushing it up and deliberately brushing my fingersover the scar that wrapped around his side. I knew howI’dfeel if someonerecoiled at the sight or touch of my own, and mine was a lot neater than Gray’s felt.
Once the shirt was off, Ilet myself look at him for a moment, cataloging other, smaller scars and marksbefore letting my gaze linger on the one I knew he was bothered by.
The one that ended hismilitary career, and had to have a whole bunch ofothercrap associatedwith it, too. It was as jagged and ugly as it should have been for something sotraumatic, and my fingers trembled as I reached out to touch it.
Gray didn’t show peoplethis. I could tell by the way his belly tensed up as I made contact, nervesmaking his whole body tighten. For a heartbeat, I’d never felt more connectedto another person in my entire life.
We were both different kindsof broken, but maybe if we took all the pieces we had left, we could makesomething beautiful out of them.
I let my fingers map out theedges of the scar, feeling every rough patch and jagged cut, trying not tothink too hard about how much pain Gray had been in when this happened. I’d been through alot, but this…
“I’m glad you’re here,” Isaid, looking up to meet Gray’s eyes, and I meant I was glad he was still alive,but Ialsomeant that I wasglad he was standing here, with me, about to do this.
“Glad you’re here, too,”Gray responded, voice soft and low and rumbling, and I got the feeling he meantall the things I meant as well.
With a rush of need, Iturned my back to him and shrugged the robe I was still wearing off myshoulders, baring the scar there to him. I didn’t show anyone this, either,not if I could help it.
“Ouch,” Gray murmured as hebent down, brushing his lips against the broken skin there. My scar was neat,surgical, and much smaller than his, though I knew it wasn’t about thesizeof scars, butthe depth.
Gray had treatedmine—visible and not—with all the care and respect I could ever ask for.
“Yeah,” I said. “I mean, Iwas knocked out when it happened, so… less dramatic than yours.”
“You went through a lot ofshit beforehand,” Gray said. “Mine was all over in a second. Can’t evenremember the pain.”
The robe dropped to thefloor with a dull thud as Gray kissed along the back of my neck, heading forthe other shoulder. His hands settled on my waist, one inching its way aroundto where my cock was starting to show interest in a second round.
He stepped closer, his owncock brushing against my ass, and all I could think of was how badly I wantedhim inside me.
“Where’d you say you keptthat lube?” Gray murmured into my ear, breath brushing past the sensitive skinof my neck, molten pleasure trickling down to the pit of my stomach inresponse.
“Top drawer.”
“Not under the pillow?” Grayasked, laughter in his voice.
“I have to sleep on thepillow,” I defended.
Gray chuckled, nudging metoward the bed. “Get comfy on your front,” he said. “I’ve got plans for you.”
