“No, I guess there isn’t. But, I’m glad I told you, and I’m glad Dr. Cochran made me realize I needed to talk about it.”
The relief is apparent in his voice, and the darkness swallowing me lightens knowing he found a way to deal with whatever was going on with him, whatever was keeping us apart. “You like him then?”
He tenses under me and glances away before returning his eyes to mine. “Um, her, and yeah, she’s good.”
Her? His shrink is a woman?
The thought of him revealing everything about himself to someone else, when he couldn’t to me, is hard enough, but learning it’s a woman…
Rip my fucking heart out why don’t you?
I see the trepidation in his gaze, and I know he’s concerned with my reaction. As much as the gaping hole in my chest hurts like a bitch, I’m somehow rational enough to realize it doesn’t matter who he is talking to, as long as it means he talks to me in the end.
I swallow my jealousy and kiss him, letting my actions say what I can’t with words, that it’s okay. Pulling away, I smile and wipe the last of his tears from his face. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
He reaches over and shuts off the light and then I settle into his side, burying my face against his shoulder. “We still need to talk tomorrow,” he whispers, pressing his lips to my forehead, “but try to get some sleep. It will get easier, baby.”
I want to believe him. I want to believe that it does get better, but right now, when I try to close my eyes, all I see is Paul, and it is hard to believe that will ever go away.
I’m woken up by bright light hitting my eyelids. I cover my eyes with my hand, groaning in annoyance as I roll onto my other side, turning my back on the offending light.
Reaching out with my free hand, I search for Savage, wanting to bury my face against his chest and ignore the daylight. My palm finds a warm plane of hard flesh, but I realize immediately something is different. The smooth, hot skin is lacking the sexy light mat of hair Savage has spattered across his chest.
My eyes fly open and I lower my protective hand from my face to find him flat on his stomach, his arms tucked up under his pillow, head turned away from me.
Savage doesn’t sleep on his stomach. Ever.
I never asked him why. I guess it never occurred to me to ask, but now, seeing the vast expanse of skin and tight muscle, I curse myself for having not begged to see it sooner.
My fingers itch to touch every inch of him and I shift closer, watching the steady rise and fall of his back under my palm. I run it across his upper back and shoulders; he groans and shifts slightly. I still, waiting for him to wake, but he almost immediately returns to the steady breathing of sleep. Sliding my hand lower, I finally reach the sheet, resting across the middle of his back.
I don’t even think before I do it. I just slowly drag the sheet down, exposing the rest of his back, and the crisscrossing myriad of scars.
My breath catches in my throat and tears pool in my eyes. I cover my mouth to keep from making any noise that may wake him. I knew he would have scars. The number of surgeries he had was mind boggling, but looking at them, seeing the physical evidence of all the anguish he went through, makes it so much more real.
Wiping the tears from my face, I reach out and brush my fingertips down the biggest scar, running from the center of his back down to the base of his spine. The red, straight line is raised from the skin slightly and is smooth under my touch. Just as I reach the base of the scar, his body jerks and I yank my hand from his skin, whipping my head up to his face.
His wary blue eyes meet mine as he watches me over his shoulder. Propped up on his elbows, he stares at me, and I feel like a teenage boy who has been caught going through his dad’s porn collection.
“I…I’m sorry…” Words fail me as I try to construct a valid excuse for my actions.
He shakes his head. “No, don’t apologize. Go ahead.”
Even as he encourages me to go on, I see the trepidation and unease in his gaze. I know this can’t be easy for him, but the fact he’s willing to let me do it anyway gives me hope we can really work through whatever barriers he’d put up between us in the past. He turns his head and buries his face in his hands on the pillow.
I reluctantly reach out, gliding my fingers down his back again, from the top of his spine down to just above his ass. His body bows up into my touch and he releases a strangled groan.
“You okay?” I ask, leaning in so I can see his profile.
He nods, his eyes still clenched closed.
“Do you want me to stop?”
He shakes his head, but offers no verbal response.