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Once he was healed, David traded Julian back to the broker at a loss.
And where Deb bought him at a bargain.
“I don’t understand,” Chelle whispered, covering the word with her palm. “You didn’t ask for this, right?”
What child would?
“You don’t need to answer that. If you had, you wouldn’t want to hide it.” She traced the arrow with her fingertip and finished in the crack of his ass at the end of the point. The spot David had claimed as his was obvious to anyone seeing the scar.
Shade breathed a little easier when she didn’t continue down his legs to touch every scar there, too, but instead tugged him toward the bed.
“Chelle.”
She shook her head. “No, you’re not naked yet and we had a deal.”
When she guided him over to the side of the bed, he took that to mean she wasn’t disgusted enough with what she saw to bring their time together to an end.
“Can’t get more naked than I am.”
When she sat on the edge of the bed, he stepped between her thighs, his dick beginning to wake up again after deflating while she examined his scars. He wrapped his left hand around the root and tugged to help it along. It didn’t take much since she watched his hand slide back and forth along his dick until he was hard again.
“Yes, you can,” she finally answered, tipping her head toward his dick.
He dropped his gaze downward and stopped pumping.
Fuck. She was right. He hadn’t bared everything yet.
Since he already revealed so much, he might as well do the rest.
He released his erection since he was about to lose it again anyway and held his hand out to her. Keeping her eyes locked on his, her fingers worked to untie and unwrap the black leather cuff he wore around his left wrist. To reveal what was left behind after the first time he’d wanted to die. His first failed attempt.
She set the leather cuff aside and slowly dropped her gaze to his wrist which she now held in a loose grip. What she saw didn’t surprise her.
“Already knew what was under it,” he murmured.
“I had a feeling on why you were keeping it covered after seeing the rest.”
Her eyes closed and she swept a thumb lightly back and forth over the scar that wasn’t as thick or as noticeable as the scar on his stomach but was still visible enough to cause questions since it crossed the inside of his wrist.
He didn’t know then but knew now, Julian had cut himself in the wrong direction. He should’ve sliced along the vein instead of across it, then maybe he couldn’t have been saved. But he’d only been eight at the time and only had a shard of the dinner plate he had broken so he could end his suffering.
That particular daddy never gave him anything breakable again. From then on, Julian ate from paper plates, drank from paper cups and had to use his fingers instead of utensils.
“Are you embarrassed?”
The soft question brought Shade back to the room and the beautiful, naked woman before him. He could be spending time on her, instead, they were wasting it on him. “Just no one’s business.”
“Including mine.”
He couldn’t deny that, so he said nothing.
Maybe one day he’d tell her, rip himself open and spill his guts, but today had been for them. He meant it when he said this time was for the two of them and no one else.
Simply revealing his scars had brought the monsters he wanted to forget to the present. They didn’t deserve one more second of his life.
Not fucking one.
“Your scars aren’t from falling while climbing a tree or skinning a knee, Shade. They—at least the ones on your back and legs—were deliberate and not self-inflicted, which I assume this one on your wrist was.”
Shade couldn’t do this. Julian couldn’t, either.
“Chelle, I want you, but don’t want this. Promised to get naked, I did. You promised not to ask questions, and, yeah, you ain’t askin’ questions, but you keep talkin’ about it, tryin’ to get me to do the same. I get why, but can’t do this right now. Brought you here to do you. Now you’ve seen everything, still wanna do me?”
Now you’ve seen everything, still wanna do me?
She stared up at the man standing before her. Totally naked and completely vulnerable after exposing every scar on his body from a life hard-lived.
He didn’t want her to ask him about it, but she struggled not to. It was difficult not to demand answers. To not be outraged.
She had to swallow her questions and quell her wrath at whoever did this to him and respect his need to keep his secrets.
For now, at least.
Receiving those injuries had been painful. She was also sure the memories hurt almost as much. When he was ready to spill his secrets, she’d be ready to listen.
