by Jill Shalvis
“Yes, and it sucks you went through that, but they helped, right?”
“Some,” she said. “They’ve gone in from my front, from the back, and in through my side. And there are scars. Ugly ones. And I don’t know if you know, but if you’re not a size two with zero body fat, and if you have a bunch of scars in some of your . . . problem areas, things don’t look quite right once you heal. There are bulges where there shouldn’t be bulges and—”
“I’ve felt your scars,” he said. “They don’t matter. They’re just a road map of your life. I have plenty myself. Nothing changes the fact that I think you’re incredibly sexy and absolutely perfect.”
“But that’s because we were in the dark,” she said, “and you were highly motivated to get to the good stuff.”
He flashed a smile at that. “Still highly motivated. But, Molly, it’s all the good stuff.”
Damn, he was good. “Okay, so here’s the real thing,” she said.
“Finally.”
“So when I’ve been in this situation before . . .” God, this was awkward. So awkward. “People sort of freaked out on me and then I couldn’t . . . um, finish, so to speak, and I ruined everything.”
Still on his knees before her, butt-ass naked, he didn’t budge. Maybe he didn’t even blink. “People?”
“My first boyfriend.” She grimaced. “And my second.” She’d been nineteen when she’d dated Ben. They’d both been inexperienced and it’d been several times before they’d had sex with enough light for him to really get a look at her. There’d been no missing his reaction—and she’d only had two of the surgeries at that time—but he’d gone from aroused, to horrified, to pity.
Pity was her kryptonite.
And maybe the worst part of it was later, when he’d tried to deny his reaction, they’d petered out before trying again.
Her second boyfriend, Tim, had been four years later. She’d been twenty-three. They’d dated for six months, during which time she’d managed to make it so they’d only had sex in the relative dark. If he ever questioned the feel of her scars, he’d never said a word. She’d liked him. A lot. Probably too much. She’d let her guard down and allowed herself to be talked into going out on his family’s boat on Lake Shasta. He’d taken one look at her in her bathing suit and gotten that expression in his eyes.
Horror. And then pity.
It’d been a lot harder to dump Tim than Ben.
And it would be even harder to dump Lucas. She drew a deep breath and told Lucas the bare minimum about both Ben and Tim.
“Dumbasses,” Lucas declared. “Anyone else?”
“No. Well . . .” She squirmed a little bit at having to admit this. “I did have a one-night stand once, but we didn’t, erm, undress all the way.”
He smiled. “Nice.”
She had no idea what she’d expected, but it hadn’t been this easy acceptance of her choices.
“Show me,” he said.
Holding his gaze, she bit her lower lip in indecision.
“Molly, I just saw you single-handedly handle Bad Santa on your own. You’re kickass. What are you afraid of?”
Oh so many, many things . . .
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll show you mine first.” He pointed to a scar on his left pec. A puckered, half inch divot in his skin. “From a bullet back when I worked at the DEA. I cornered a bad guy. He didn’t like it.”
It was so close to his heart it nearly stopped hers. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to the spot.
He made a very low, very male noise and slid a hand up her thigh. “Show me,” he repeated softly. “Please?”
She hesitated, but her body wanted his and overruled her brain. Her elf costume was snug. Pulling her arms free of the material, she pushed the dress down to her hips, revealing her black strappy sports bra. She pointed to a six-inch long horizontal scar on her side at her waist that had sliced her from front to back. You couldn’t miss it as it’d puckered a little bit and cut inward, which made her look like she had a panty line there, even though her panties were far lower. As far as her other scars went, though, it was her most minor. “Surgery on my L2-L4,” she said.
His hands went to her hips and he leaned in, his broad shoulders blocking out much of the light as he brushed his mouth over the scar gently. Then he straightened and pointed to a four-inch scar low on his abs. “Knife wound,” he said. “Working for Archer. A perp got the jump on me and tried to gut me. He was very nearly successful too.”
She ran her fingers along the scar, which due to his extreme fitness level had healed well, no puckering of fat or unevenness for him. Still, it was a visceral reminder of exactly how dangerous his life had been. Still was. He’d nearly lost his life several times over. And he hadn’t let it affect him, she thought.
Not like she had.
When her fingers touched his skin, he’d hummed in pleasure and his eyes darkened like they did when he was aroused. She stared at him, awed by how a simple touch from her could render him boneless.
It was exciting.
Empowering.
Eyes maintaining contact with his, she scooted back on the bed and then rolled to lie down on her stomach, cradling her head on her folded arms. She couldn’t see him in this position, but heard him rise and set a knee on the bed.
Knowing what he was looking at now, she closed her eyes. A vicious-looking scar ran from the base of her neck all the way down her spine, broken in two spots signaling two different surgeries. With her dress still at her hips, he couldn’t see all of it, but he could get the gist.
Along the length of the worst of the scarring was the tattoo Sadie had given her that read:
Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional . . .
She stilled when she felt his lips on the back of her neck, sighing in pleasure as he ran hot, open-mouthed kisses down the length of her spine.
When he started to tug the dress the rest of the way off, she flipped over. “Wait,” she said. “It’s back to your turn.”
“I think that’s it,” he said.
“No.” Sitting up, she put a palm to his heart. “What’s wrong here?”
He covered her hand with one of his. “It’s been broken,” he admitted quietly.
“When you lost Josh.”
He nodded.
“And Carrie.”
He nodded again.
She nodded too, and then leaned forward and pressed her mouth to the spot right over his heart. He sank his fingers into her hair and gently pulled her away, nudging her down to the bed where he then proceeded to kiss every one of her doubts away.
It’d been a long time since she’d allowed herself to trust a guy to see past her flaws. But it was as if he didn’t even see them at all. He simply saw all of her, as a whole, and that was incredibly freeing.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against the skin of her hip as he slid her dress the rest of the way off, tossing it over his shoulder. Positioning one knee between her legs, he braced himself over her, dipping his head down to lick the skin of her collarbone.
In reaction, she arched up off the bed, craving more. So much more. Sliding her hands up his back, she urged him closer because she needed this. Needed him. Needed the feel of his skin pressed to hers, radiating all that heat and power of his into her. Feeling the steady beat of his heart against her own, she raised her hips, hungry to have him inside her. “Please, Lucas,” she breathed. “Please, now.”
With a rough groan, he managed to strip her bra and undies off and to come up with a condom. He buried himself inside her in one perfect thrust. When he began to move, she lost her mind. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she pressed her heels against his lower back. “Faster,” she whispered.
He smiled against her lips. “What else. Tell me.”
“Harder.”
With a rough groan, he gave her what she wanted until she came apart for him, and only when the last of the shudders left her did he lift his face from where he’d had it buried in her
hair. Watching her now, he pushed the hair back from her damp forehead.
“Again,” he said.
She wasn’t much for demands, never had been, but no one had ever demanded anything of her in the bedroom. Apparently that was entirely different because just the sound of his low voice was enough to nearly topple her over again. Nearly. Because she was nothing if not stubborn to end.
Undeterred, he simply smiled his badass smile and slowed his motions, taking care to stroke and touch every inch of her that he could, making her muscles clench and tighten around him. She tried to keep her eyes open, but they drifted closed at the myriad sensations—and emotions—washing over and through her from the feel of being with a man again.
This man.
Taking her hands, Lucas linked his fingers with hers and slid them over her head. His body moved slowly over hers, every inch of his skin caressing her, and unbelievably, she felt the ripples of her release twisting and curling deep in her belly.
Lowering his head, he rubbed his jaw along hers like a big cat. A big sexy cat that looked far too in control of himself to suit her. Twisting her hands free, she grabbed his wrists. Mr. Cool’s pulse was hammering, and when she rocked up into him, she wrenched a very sexy male sound of hunger from deep in his throat. Egged on by that, she began to twist below him in counterpoint to his thrusts. In response, Lucas threw back his head as her body sought his rhythm, their combined movements taking them both over this time.
It took her a while to come back to herself, and when she opened her eyes, she found Lucas, head propped on his hand, watching her with a small but warm smile. “Hey.”
“Hey back,” she said a little shakily. Because holy cow. She lifted her hands to push her hair back and in doing so realized she was still wearing the elf ears. Or in this case, one of the ears, as the other was long gone. And now that she thought about it, she could feel it beneath her. She craned her neck and, yep, found it stuck to her bare ass.
And here she’d been worried about how she’d look to him and she’d been wearing one elf ear . . .
He laughed softly, lazily, and took the ear, tossing it behind him, where it took the same trip through the air that her clothes had. Then he lay back and had her straddle him, gliding his hands reverently up her legs.
“Love having these wrapped around me,” he said huskily, tugging her down for a kiss.
Gasping at what she found pressed up against her good parts, she smiled. “Again?” she murmured hopefully.
“If you like.”
Oh, she’d like . . .
She awoke some time later. It was still dark and still raining. Her head was on Lucas’s chest where she’d fallen asleep, his skin warm beneath her. His breathing was slow and deep and she could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her face and fingertips. A strong heart, a steady heart.
The air in the room was chilly. The contrast between the heat of where they touched and the cold where they didn’t was almost erotic.
She shifted against him and felt him respond in his sleep—a slow contented rumble from deep in his chest. There was just something about him that made her own chest too warm. Warm and . . . tight, the latter having been there since last night when she’d thought they were done.
“Hey,” he murmured in a sleepy rough voice, pulling her in closer, wrapping her up in his warmth. “You okay?”
“Very.”
Lucas ran a hand up her back and down again until he had a palmful of her ass, pressing her close. “Warm enough?”
“Yes, thanks to my own personal heat source.”
He smiled against her neck and then began kissing her there, working his way up to her mouth. The kiss was tender and he cradled her head in his hands.
“Lucas?” she whispered.
“Yeah?”
“I’m in trouble with you.”
He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “The way I see it, that’s a lot better than being done with me,” he said.
She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his.
“Hey,” he said gently and then waited for her to look at him. “What happens in this apartment stays in this apartment.” He paused. “But only if you want it to.”
Unbearably touched by that, she stroked the rough stubble of his jaw. “I have no idea what to do with you,” she whispered. “You know that, right?”
“Maybe you’re thinking too hard. Maybe you just take it one minute at a time.” He put his hands over hers. “And I bet you can figure out what to do with me this minute . . . Yes?”
She met his gaze, which had gone from sleepy to sexy hot. “Most definitely yes,” she whispered.
Chapter 22
#Balls
The next day, Lucas was in a staff meeting, but his mind was back in bed with Molly. He’d made it a point to never spend the night with a woman, and yet he’d done so a couple of times now with her. True, for one of them he hadn’t been sober, but still. He hadn’t driven her home last night, not until this morning.
And maybe even more surprisingly, she hadn’t asked him to.
They’d woken when his alarm had gone off. Stunned to realize it was morning, he’d reached across a still-dead-to-the-world Molly to turn it off before lying back down. She’d been warm and naked beside him, and far too tempting. So he hadn’t even tried to resist pulling her in for a rare cuddle.
Still asleep, she’d turned to him, pressing as close as she could, her arms around his neck. “Don’t go,” she’d murmured.
And he’d thought that had sounded like the perfect plan. Not to go anywhere.
But then Archer had called, and within thirty minutes he and the team had been on a job that had involved rappelling down a twenty-story elevator shaft, all in the name of security and investigation.
Now it wasn’t quite noon and he was falling asleep in the meeting in spite of the huge cup of coffee he was mainlining. It took him five minutes to realize that all was quiet around him.
The meeting had ended.
“Problem?”
He looked up at the soft sound of Molly’s voice. She refilled his coffee while he stared up at her face. “I’m tired,” he said.
She looked around to make sure they were alone. “Yeah, well, that’s the price you pay when you’re a sex fiend.”
He snorted and caught her hand before she could turn away, studying her face. She was . . . glowing. And smiling too, eyes bright. She looked positively cheerful, which she absolutely never, ever did, at least not before noon. “How is it that you’re not looking like you’re about to kill someone?”
Her smiled softened. “I guess having a one-night stand agrees with me. Who knew?”
A one-night stand. Which was right up his alley. So why then did he feel a little insulted? “Technically,” he said carefully, “it’s been more than one night.”
“And technically,” she said. “We weren’t going to have any night stand.”
Molly left work at lunch to hit the gym. She needed an hour to get out the kinks in her back and leg. Normally she went before work, but her second job as an elf was taking up too much brain power and she’d been too tired to get up early.
Bad Santa was really cutting into her life.
As were all the orgasms with Lucas . . .
Okay, truth. She needed out of the office and away from Lucas to think. Think about how she kept doing the opposite with Lucas than she planned. Think about the look on his face this morning when she’d said they weren’t having any night stand.
She made him . . . happy. And hell if he didn’t return the favor. He made her very happy. Which was terrifying.
In the gym, she wasn’t surprised to find Caleb going at a hanging bag, beating the shit out of it with a combination of punches and kicks. And given the look of him, drenched in sweat, face grim, he’d been at it a while.
She didn’t disturb him. Instead she warmed up with stretches and then hit the weights. She was at the bench press when two hands caught the bar and adjusted her arms,
pushing it up a little higher.
Caleb.
He watched her, nodding in approval as she finished her set.
“Thanks,” she said. “You done beating up whoever ruined your day?”
He held her gaze, arms crossed over his chest. “I could ask you the same thing.”
She sighed.
“Work?” he asked. “Love life?”
“Both.” She gave him a look. “And you?”
He lifted a broad shoulder. “Same.”
“So we’re both screwed up?”
A very small smile curved his lips. “No doubt.”
She went by her place for a shower, her body humming from the workout. She was feeling pretty good, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the exercise or how she’d spent last night. She glanced at the time. She never took a long lunch. But she wanted to today. She told herself she could take another thirty minutes or so if she wanted.
And oh, she wanted. She reached for her phone to send a text.
Molly: I have some research I could use an assist on. Are you anywhere near my place?
Lucas: Please tell me that “research” is a euphemism.
Molly: Of course not.
It totally was a euphemism.
He got there in ten minutes. She was still in just her towel from her shower. “Oh,” she murmured. “I didn’t realize you could get here so quickly. I haven’t had time to get dressed.”
He walked over to her and pulled her up into his arms. His mouth descended on hers, hot and persistent and she felt her nipples bore through the towel into his chest.
He dropped his hands to cup her butt, slipping them beneath the towel to grip bare skin. “Liar,” he said with naughty accusation in his voice. “You’re lying in wait for me. Hoping to seduce me by wearing only this easy access towel.”
She slid her arms around his neck and rocked into his erection with a purr. “Is it working?”
“Molly,” he said on a rough laugh. “All you have to do is look at me.”
She raised her gaze to his and studied him. “I’m glad you were close by.”
