His breathing was a little too deep, his gaze too intent as he opened the last button.
They stood very close together, both their heads down until their foreheads touched.
“I mean, you’ve seen worse now, right?”
If he could find the words to reassure her, Kam would, but he’d already said everything he felt, everything he knew. Without her looking at him, it was easier to speak his mind. “You matter to me, Glory. More than you know. A few scars won’t change that.”
In the silence of her bedroom, he heard her swallow. “It’s silly. I mean, now it is. It’s just that, in my head...” She gave a small gasp, curved her uninjured arm around her middle, and went still.
“I’m sorry.” He was still now, too. The idea of hurting her devastated him. “What did I do?”
“It wasn’t you.” Two more slow easy breaths, and she opened her eyes again. “Sometimes, even a tiny movement just gets me.”
“Ribs or shoulder?”
“Shoulder that time, but I’m okay now.”
The sooner he got her comfortable, the sooner they could try to get some sleep. She needed rest to heal. Hopefully, with the new day, she’d be more open to seeing an orthopedic doctor.
Taking her right hand, Kam kissed her palm and then moved her arm to the side, so he could ease the shirt off her shoulders. His heart was a thundering drumbeat. The overhead light was on, and he could see all of her. Every inch of her skin.
No bra, just some bruising, and underneath it all, there on her left shoulder, a scar that ran from her shoulder toward her collarbone. She’d been hurt in so many ways over the years that he just naturally bent forward to put a healing kiss tothe mark, to show her it didn’t matter, couldn’t matter—not between them.
“Kam,” she whispered, with a touch of embarrassment.
Made sense, because here she was, breasts showing, and his gaze was snagged on her shoulder. “Your shoulder has taken some abuse, hasn’t it? First as a kid and now again.”
Not really expecting an answer, he eased the shirt down her arms, thankful that it was Tanner’s shirt and therefore roomy enough to remove easily.
In a small voice, she said, “It was a lot worse back then.”
“A broken bone versus a rotator cuff injury?”
“I guess, but also, I was young and so scared.”
Not giving her a chance to think about it, he stretched the waistband of the skirt and, lowering to a knee, brought it down over her backside, her hips and thighs, down to her feet. “I can’t imagine,” he said, but he could. He, too, had lost his parents—under very different circumstances. “Did you have to stay in the hospital?”
“For a few days.”
That thin voice had him looking up at her. She’d closed her eyes, not in pain this time, at least he didn’t think so. A rosy flush covered her cheeks and throat.
Without thinking about it, he said, “You’re so fucking sexy. You know that, right?”
Her eyes shot open and a short laugh, devoid of humor, escaped her. “With all my scars? And now so many bruises? No, I don’t think so.”
“As a man who wants you, I’m telling you that you are. Not that I’ll do anything about it right now. You’re hurt and that’s my top priority. But once you’re healed, we’ll have this conversation again.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“I know.” Directly in front of him was the scar that slightlycurved from the front of her thigh to the side and down a few inches. It had healed, but he could see that it had been gruesome at one time. The thickness of it, the jagged line, gave an indication of the agony she must have suffered.
He coasted his lips over this injury, too, wishing kisses really could heal because he knew she still felt pain—emotional pain. And sometimes that was worse. “How bad was this break?”
Around slightly choppy breathing, she said, “Bad, I guess. They called it a femoral shaft fracture.”
Despite her injuries, old and new, she had an incredibly beautiful body, and he wasn’t immune. Softer emotions helped to blunt the sharp-edged lust gnawing beneath the surface of his control. She wouldn’t be up to anything physical for weeks, maybe even months, so he’d keep it under wraps and concentrate on helping her. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t want her.
Looking up at her, he asked, “What does that mean, exactly?”
