One thing she’d done differently than most women was her nipples. She’d opted to not have them kept in any sense of the word, as some women do. It hadn’t been the right surgery for her, and she’d wanted to move on. Her nipples weren’t part of who she was—or at least that’s what she’d thought at first. She’d also decided not to do anything about tattooing fake ones on. At least not yet. She’d warred with herself over it and had even almost asked Maya to do it for her…but it wasn’t what she wanted. She’d had implants put in during one of the later surgeries, though they weren’t perfectly even. She’d missed her curves, and though at the time the new ones hadn’t felt like hers, she’d grown to see them differently.
In the years since her diagnosis and recovery, she’d formulated a plan. She wanted a certain kind of tattoo over what were once her breasts, and in her heart, she knew whom she wanted to do it. While Maya, Austin, or Callie would take great care of her, she wanted the one person she knew carried a darkness, a scar along his soul as deep, if not deeper, than her physical ones.
She wanted Sloane.
She let out a shuddered breath.
She’d never had the courage to ask him…maybe it was time. After all, if he saw her naked, he’d know about her breasts. And if she took this date—this relationship—further, he’d see it all.
It was a step she hadn’t been willing to take before, but maybe, just maybe, Brody’s interference would help her not only heal the remaining scars on her body, her soul, but show Sloane what he could have with her—what she could have with him.
She wasn’t the woman she once was, she reminded herself, but then again, no one truly was.
With a roll of her shoulders, she donned her dark leggings and tunic top. It clung just right to her curves but didn’t showcase any unevenness in her chest. No matter how many surgeries she had, she’d never have perfect globes. Then again, she hadn’t when they’d been real anyway. Bras and holding her shoulders back helped with those issues. Once she was naked…well, that was another form of trust, one that she’d tried to give before but failed.
A year or so after her last surgery, she’d slept with a man she’d been seeing. He’d known she had cancer, but hadn’t known the depth of her…newness. He hadn’t made her come during the encounter, and had stayed away from her upper chest to the point she felt like a pariah. She couldn’t get the sensations she’d once had with nipple play since she didn’t have them anymore, but completely ignoring where they once had been by not even glancing at them when she’d had her shirt off had quickly ruined any tingling she might have felt for the man. Part of that may have been her fault as she hadn’t communicated her feelings, but damn it, he should have tried to make things better for her.
She hadn’t slept with a man since.
The fact that it took her longer with a vibrator to come than it had before the chemo and radiation didn’t make things any easier. But if she were patient—and honest about thinking about Sloane while getting herself off—she could come eventually. And while she missed hot sex, she missed the intimacy of being with another even more. She’d had a few boyfriends during high school and the start of college, so she hadn’t been that inexperienced. She also hadn’t had a boyfriend during the ordeal, so she’d gone from who she’d been to this new version of her without someone to see the progress.
Going out with Sloane tonight was a hurdle of trust she’d never faced before…at least a different type of one. If and when she told him about her cancer, told him of her body, she’d be giving a part of herself to him—an intimate part—before she even let him touch her.
She trusted Sloane more than she trusted almost anyone—just from the way he’d treated her since they met. The chemistry between them had only burned brighter as time moved on.
They both had their reasons for keeping away until now.
She would tell him hers because there would be no hiding it if things progressed.
She just hoped he’d tell her his.
“Enough of that,” she mumbled to herself. She’d spent the past twenty minutes staring in the mirror, trying to figure out how she’d gotten herself into this situation, and now she was going to be late if she didn’t get a move on.
As fast as she could, she finished straightening her hair, the sleek threads forming a perfect bob. Her post chemo hair wasn’t as straight as it used to be so she had to iron out the wave if she wanted her hairstyle to work. Her thick bangs rocked in her opinion, and she was grateful her hair hadn’t thinned like so many others’ had. This hairstyle, actually, came from one of the wigs she’d had during her treatments. She’d loved the way it framed her face so much, she’d let her hair grow out into the style.
She quickly did her makeup, making sure her lips were stained a deep red. If she pressed a glass to her lips or even kissed Sloane later, the stain wouldn’t come off. She loved this brand and prayed her shop continued to do well so she could afford it.
The knock on the door came precisely on time, and she grinned. Sloane was known for his promptness. And knowing him and his military mindset, he had probably been outside for five minutes waiting for her because being right on time was actually late to him. She wasn’t usually late for things, but she sometimes came in by the skin of her teeth.
Hailey ran her hands down her long tunic again before opening the door, her heart beating loudly in her ears.