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“Did you lose your kidney?” she said.
“No. I didn’t.”
The way he said it told her that he knew she’d lost hers.
Kirsty was mesmerised by the scar. He wore it so proudly and it was obvious that he didn’t think it made a difference to how he looked.
“But then, you’re a man,” she said out loud. “This sort of thing makes you more manly. Scars don’t do that to a woman.”
“Well,” he said with a smile, “if your scars made you more manly, I’d be seriously cheesed off.”
“Smart arse.”
Her fingers seemed to have a mind of their own now that they’d started touching him. They curved round his side and over his stomach, counting the ridges of muscle up to the curls of blond hair on his chest. She cleared her throat.
“No steroids?” she said teasingly.
“Never.” His voice was barely a whisper, as though he was afraid he’d scare her off and she’d stop touching him. Which she might have done.
“How, then?” she said as her other hand joined the first and together they explored his stomach and chest.
Her hands worked their way towards those wide shoulders of his that drove her mad. Nothing screamed power like Lake’s shoulders. It mesmerised her that he had so much strength and she had so little.
“Hard work and perseverance,” he told her.
“Huh?” She’d lost focus for a moment.
“The muscles. No steroids. Just hard, hard work.”
“Oh.”
She felt the heat from his skin flow through her body, straight to her toes.
“More?” she said.
It took him a minute to realise that she was asking about scars.
“This one,” he said as he cleared his throat.
He pointed at a faint jagged scar that went up the centre of his left thigh. Kirsty bent slightly to run a finger down the line.
“How did you get this one?”
“Ripped it open on a piece of wood with a nail in it during under water exercises. Didn’t see the wood. Broke my shoulder on the same exercise. It was in Scotland. In winter. And the water was black. Couldn’t see a damn thing.”
> She looked back up at him while her hand stayed on his thighs. His skin burned her palms.
“You must have been a really rubbish soldier to keep getting injured during training.”
He grinned.
“Training is the best time to get injured, lots of hospitals and doctors nearby. You don’t want to get injured on an operation. There you could be stuck with only the medic for help - if you’re lucky.”
Her heart pounded for him.
“Did that ever happen to you?” she said softly.
“No, but I’ve seen it happen. It isn’t pleasant.”
