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“I mean my scars. I know they’re horrible and ugly and…” My lip wobbled, but Cole’s hand gently cupped my cheek and his mouth found my lips.
He tasted of coffee, bourbon, and smoke. For one crazy moment, I just accepted the kiss, reveled in it, soaked up the heady feel of his kiss, then reality butted in and the stupid voice in my head screamed, you can’t have this.
I pulled away, my breathing heavy. Cole’s hooded eyes were more gold than green.
“We shouldn’t…I shouldn’t…”
“Why?” There was something unyielding in his voice, like he had no intention of walking away. It calmed me. Made me think that perhaps he’d thought about this moment - about kissing me - and decided he wanted it, regardless.
“Because I’m…me…and…this…” I looked down, but he cupped my face again, forcing me to look at him.
“No matter what bullshit you’ve been telling yourself, no matter what vile shit that fucker told you, you are beautiful, Eva, inside and outside. Your scars don’t matter to me. All I see is a sweet, brave woman who deserves so much more than what life has given her. Someone I care about.” He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and smiled. “So let me care for you, let me take care of you.”
Guilt surged inside me. “But Silas and I kissed!”
He looked puzzled. “So?”
“Doesn’t that bother you?” Surely it had to. Most men didn’t want a woman they cared for to kiss another man. At least that’s what I believed.
He sat back and sighed. “Yes and no. Yes, I confess I was jealous when I walked in and it was obvious you two were having a moment. I wanted to be the one to kiss you and that bastard got there first. But if you think I’d have a problem sharing you with my brothers, you’d be wrong. We’re shifters, sweetheart. Poly relationships are normal in our world. Lots of guys share their women within a committed relationship and vice versa. Nobody bats an eye.”
Well, color me shocked.
“I have no experience of…anything,” I admitted. Sure, there had been a couple of boys in school, some immature fumbling, but I mostly kept to myself because it wasn’t as if I could bring anyone back to our trailer. We were also dirt-poor, so I couldn’t afford new clothes or the kinds of stuff the popular kids had. Nobody bullied me, exactly, but I’d had very few friends.
“It’s OK, sweetheart. I don’t expect anything. None of us do. You’re safe here, with us.”
He was telling the truth. I could feel it. Cole cared about me. I wasn’t sure what he saw in me, but when he kissed me, for a moment there I felt beautiful.
And I liked the feeling.
“I know,” I replied, meeting his moss green eyes with my own. Then the warmth in my veins faded again as all my insecurities rose to the surface. What could I offer them, really?
Surely they were used to women who knew how to please a man. I didn’t.
“Tell me what you’re thinking?” Cole stared down at me with concern. One hand rested on my leg and I tried to ignore how warm he felt, how good he smelled, and how badly I wanted him to kiss me again. When he kissed me, I forgot who I was, and I liked it.
“I’m worried,” I admitted, struggling to voice my thoughts. They were confused. I was confused.
“About what, sweetheart?” His gentle voice was encouraging. Smooth like milky coffee on a frosty morning, comforting.
“I’m worried you’ll get bored with me. That I won’t be enough.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. I froze, mentally preparing myself for the rejection that was sure to follow.
“Oh, sweetheart, you’re all I need.” He smiled at me and it was like the sun had come out from behind a black cloud. Everything lit up with blinding clarity and the heaviness in my heart lifted. He stroked my cheek and then bent down to kiss me again.
This time, he wasn’t holding back, and his kiss was a lot more forceful. The little voice inside my head screamed at me to run away, but I ignored it. I let myself feel the kiss. My body burned as his hand cupped the back of my head and pulled me closer. I sank into him, allowing his tongue to plunder my mouth.
A small moan escaped, and he groaned. A low, husky, infinitely male sound, telling me he was enjoying this as much as me. He shifted slightly until I was half lying across his chest and my core rested against the very prominent bulge at his groin.
Every little movement ramped up the ache between my thighs. I’d never felt like this, not until I came here. Was this what it was supposed to feel like? The way my heart pounded in my chest and my breasts ached for his touch seemed more reminiscent of a romance novel.
Cole’s hand slid under the tee I wore and I froze again, anxious about my scars. I knew how awful the ridged, damaged skin felt when touched.
“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmured against my mouth. Calloused fingers traced lines over my ribs, edging ever closer to the swell of my braless breasts. It had been ages since I wore a bra.
What was the point? I spent most of my time swaddled in several layers and my breasts weren’t that big. I didn’t need the support and going without a bra was more comfortable.
Despite the extensive scar tissue, I could feel every brief touch of Cole’s fingers, and God, it felt so good. Touch purely for pleasure was not something I was used to.
