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My body wasn’t exactly a pretty sight.
I unbuckled my belt and let my pants drop to the floor.
I picked them up, tossed them beside my shirt and then held my arms out. “Nowtheseare scars, Vanna. Take a good look. And don’t ever tell me that your scars are ugly again. You’re fucking beautiful. If anyone tells you anything different, they’re completely full of shit.”
I turned around slowly, covered only by a pair of boxer briefs, the rage that had consumed me a few minutes ago starting to slowly cool.
I knew where every piece of skin was missing, and just how deep some of those wounds had been.
Yeah, over time, some of the scars had faded, but not a single one of those ugly bastards were ever going to disappear.
Maybe they didn’t show in my everyday life because I made a deliberate effort to cover them, but I knew they were there, and I’d seen a woman flip out when she saw them.
That’s why I’d never bothered to inflict them on another female.
I didn’t look at Vanna as I gathered up my clothes. “I think you probably get my point,” I said in a graveled voice. “Let me take a shower and we’ll talk about what happened today. I think those shortsighted, superficial assholes probably did you a favor, Vanna. You can take your exceptional talent somewhere else where it’s appreciated.”
Without another word, I exited the kitchen and sprinted up the stairs.
My rage level had lowered to a simmer as I pulled out a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.
Hell, in hindsight, I probably should have prepared Vanna for that strip show, but I’d been livid at the thought of her agonizing over something so unimportant and so out of her control.
I wanted to tear the heads off every asshole at the network for hurting her feelings.
I couldn’t handle seeing her cry foranygoddamn reason.
My heart sank as I tossed my clothes into the hamper and strolled into the master bathroom.
So much for revealing the way I felt about her to Vanna.
There probably wasn’t a woman on Earth who’d want to go to bed with a guy who looked like me when he was naked.
I’d known that since the very beginning.
But it hadn’t stopped me from wanting Vanna anyway—every single fucking moment of every day.
I’d told myself that I could live without a woman in my life.
Until her.
Until the moment I’d realized in Vegas that the woman I’d always hoped to find had been staring me in the face for years now.
In some ways, it probably should have been a relief when she’d ran away in Vegas after I’d given into a compulsive instinct to ask her out.
Unfortunately, even though I’d been at peace with swearing off relationships before I’d seen her again, Vanna’s rejection had eaten my guts out.
“Fuck!” I growled as I slammed my fist against the wall. What in the hell was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just accept that Savannah Anderson wasnevergoing to be mine?
She hadn’t said another word after her initial shock of seeing my torn-up body, but her horrified reaction and then her silence had spoken pretty loud and clear.
I yanked open the shower door and turned on the water.
“Tell her how I feel, my ass,” I rumbled out loud as I shucked my briefs. “There isn’t a woman on the planet who wants to go to bed with this body every night.”
I tensed as I heard a voice behind me as she said, “Oh, there are probably dozens of them, but I’d fight them all off to have that chance myself.”
I turned to see Vanna leaning against the doorjamb, tears pouring down her face as she said, “I think I’d do just about anything to get into your bed, Chase. I’ve fantasized about it for a very, very long time. I just wasn’t convinced you wanted the same thing. Do you?”
