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The fact that River doesn’t know all of that means he likely hasn’t had a close encounter with cancer, and that makes me glad.
“It is a scar, yeah,” I say, scooting a little closer to him on the bed, allowing him to see it better.
I wear tank tops a lot, and I don’t honestly think about the scar that often or feel super self-conscious about it. But having his gaze fixed on it makes me feel vulnerable, exposed… and warm all over.
He looks his fill, and when his attention moves back to my face, I continue.
“I got cancer when I was ten. Leukemia. The scar is from something called a port-a-catheter. The doctors used it to administer my chemo treatments and do blood transfusions and stuff. It’s easier than using an IV needle every time.”
Because I’m conscious of his need to see my face as I speak, I don’t turn away or look down like I want to. Instead, I keep my gaze fixed on him, watching the micro-expressions that cross his features as he absorbs my words.
“You had… cancer?” he asks slowly, and I nod. He processes that too before adding, “But you’re okay now?”
“Yep. Cancer free for seven years.” I reach up unconsciously to brush my fingertips over the scar again.
“Does Linc know? Or Dax and Chase?”
I shake my head, the movement a little jerky. “No. It’s like you said, I don’t want people to assume I’m helpless or broken or something. So I usually don’t tell people. I hate seeing the expression on their faces change, you know? They either look at me with pity or with some weird kind of awe, like I’m so special for having beaten cancer.” I shrug, dropping my head a little. “I’m not. Lots of people have done it. And lots of people haven’t.”
River’s fingertips slip under my chin, tilting my head back up even as he ducks his own to keep his gaze on my lips. I grimace, annoyed at myself for making him work to catch the end of my words.
He moved a little closer to me while I was speaking, and now his gaze darts back and forth between my eyes, studying me so intently I feel naked. His fingertips leave my chin, but instead of drawing his hand back, he traces over the slightly raised scar with a light touch.
My heart stutters, and my whole body freezes. My lungs burn as they scream for more oxygen, and I force them to keep drawing in slow gulps of air.
“You should tell them, Harlow,” he says softly. “They’ll understand. They won’t look at you differently. I promise.”
His touch is doing terrible, wonderful things to my body. My nipples have peaked beneath the thin material of my tank, and I’m suddenly having a hard time sitting still. I want to move. I want to rub my skin against his.
I want another kiss like he gave me last night.
But I don’t move. I stay absolutely still.
And my patience is rewarded.
His gaze shifts back up to my face, and even as he keeps his attention there, his fingers drift across the plane of my upper chest until they hook the fabric of my other strap. When he pushes that one off my shoulder, I suck in a deep breath.
I want this. Whatever might be about to happen, I crave it with my entire body and soul. But—
“Lincoln…?” I whisper.
“He knows.” River’s smile is confident and sexy as fuck. “We talked about it. He knows he’s not the only one who gets a claim on you.” He arches a brow, looking a little impressed. “He said you were the one who brought it up.”
“I… Yeah, I was.”
My mind still can’t quite believe I did that. That I asked for this. And that Lincoln agreed.
River must take the disbelief on my face for hesitance, because he stiffens a little and starts to pull away. But I chase his touch, scooting forward on the bed until I’m less than a foot away from him.
He smiles again, and his lips are still curved up in that smile when he leans forward and kisses me.
Holy shit. I thought he was a good kisser the few other times we did this, but now I’m starting to think he was holding back. His mouth moves against mine, tongue slipping out to lick the seam of my lips. When I open for him, he tastes my tongue with his, and when I think I can’t take any more, he moves his mouth down over the curve of my jaw and my neck.
God, this might be a really fucking bad idea.
Even though Lincoln is okay with it, it will complicate everything. What if things get awkward or weird? I need a place to stay for a while, and I can’t keep shuffling from house to house like some kind of vagrant.
But more than needing a place to stay, I’m starting to feel like I need these four boys in my life. Like my heart and soul shine bright
