10 #3
“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 to the 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 slightly curved 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?”
“The bone came through the skin. It’s why that scar is so gross.”
He didn’t want to, but Kam came back to his feet. “Nothing about you is gross. Nothing. You’re a beautiful woman who’s lived a difficult life and has a few scars to prove it.”
“It’s ugly.”
“It’s a part of you.” Carefully, he cupped her face, willing her to believe him. “You’re not perfect, Glory. No one is. But
know what? I think that makes you better.”
“Better?”
“Real. Sexy. Strong. I not only want you, I admire you. So damn much.”
“You shouldn’t.” Visibly struggling with her thoughts, she stared at his chest. “The hardest part wasn’t being hurt, it was
being alone, knowing my parents were gone.” Her breath hitched. “And knowing it was my fault.”
That small shaky confession hit like a sledgehammer.
To give himself a moment, Kam picked up the soft robe she’d chosen to wear.
Light blue with small yellow flowers, as soft as a T-shirt but thicker, with wide sleeves and a tie belt, it’d be the easiest thing to get on and off her.
Still, he used extra care as he bundled her up.
Now, with her covered, he smoothed back her hair. “Panties?”
Looking past him, she shook her head. “Aunt Liz would be scandalized, but for once, I don’t care. They’re not worth the trouble
of getting them on and off.”
“We’re going to talk in a minute, okay? Not for a single second do I think a kid could be responsible for her parents’ actions.
But first, I want to get you as comfortable as possible. So how about some aspirin?”
“I took acetaminophen when I brushed my teeth.”
He nodded. “Good. For sleeping, I’m thinking the couch would be easier—”
Emotion brought her brows together, but she didn’t make a sound.
“For us both to fit.”
That brought her gaze to his.
God, he wanted to hold her, to make outrageous promises that wouldn’t fit the moment.
If she thought he’d sleep away from her, she was in for a surprise. “Your two couches will be convenient, though I wouldn’t
mind being right beside you, our feet propped up, if it won’t cause you any discomfort.”
A wealth of gratitude filled her wide eyes.
Going for a casual vibe that he hoped would help put her at ease, Kam pointed out why the couch might be better. “It’s firmer,
and I can rearrange things so you’re reclining a bit but not attempting to lay flat. Plus, you can use the armrest to take
pressure off your shoulder.”
Flustered, she nodded. “Okay, sounds good.”
“You won’t mind if I stick close? Because, babe, I need to be there—for me, not you. You’ve already proven that you can handle it. Me? I’m caught between wanting to kill Mike and the urge to wrap you in cotton padding and keep you secreted away so no one and nothing could ever hurt you again.”
Her lips inched into a smile. “No killing, okay?” Slowly, she began shuffling her way from the room.
Kam stuck close to her, ready to support her if she needed it.
“You can’t wrap me in cotton padding, either. That doesn’t sound very fashionable at all.”
Relieved that her tone was now teasing, he grinned. “I bet you’d make it look hot.”
“Well, I would try, or at least, I’d want it to look stylish, but I doubt it’d be possible the way I look right now. It’s
a sweet thought, though.”
“For me to keep you all to myself? I would never be so selfish—tempting as it might be.”
At a snail’s pace, they made their way to the living room. “You know you’re wicked, right? I can barely move, so no matter
how awesome you looked kneeling in front of me when I was naked, I can’t take advantage of it.”
“Did I look awesome? I was going for concerned and caring.” Loving. “You have no idea how difficult it was to stomp down my baser instincts. Naked, babe, usually means a lot of touching, kissing.”
He glanced at her profile. “Licking.”
“Eh, probably not when the woman is so banged up and gross.”
“Babe, are you fishing for compliments?”
Appalled, she said, “No!”
“Then stop putting yourself down. I keep telling you: You’re hot. No matter what.” Even when her face and hair had been covered
in blood, her left eye nearly swollen shut, his overriding thought had been that she was his. “I can’t deny the banged-up
part, but I swear, that makes me want to go all caveman on you. Shelter and protect you—that sort of thing.”
“Caveman, huh?”
“That territorial tendency is as powerful as lust, but with you, I felt all of it. Every sharp-edged, raging instinct. I want
to keep you safe. Once you’re healed, I want to make love to you—with the lights on. But until you’ve recovered, I’m definitely
someone you can rely on.” And after that, too.
Pausing, she turned to face him, her expression so vulnerable it hurt.
Kam drifted his fingertips over her cheek. “I want all that. I know it’s asking a lot, but—”
She laughed, gasped, and caught her hand to her ribs. “Yes, to all that, and a big thank-you as well. Now I really need to get off my feet.”
Yes, to all that. The constriction in his chest lifted. He stepped around her, arranged the cushions the way he thought would work best, and
helped to ease her into her seat. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
Practically running, he went down the hall to fetch multiple pillows and a couple of blankets. Ten minutes later, with a lot
of small adjustments, Glory settled comfortably with a small sigh of relief.
“Okay?” he asked, stretched out along her right side with a soft pillow between them so he wouldn’t accidentally bump her.
“It’s as perfect as it can be, but will you be able to sleep?”
“Better than I could apart from you.” He shifted to half face her. “Swear that if you need anything, even a drink of water,
you’ll let me know.”
The room was dim with only a small light from the kitchen filtering into the room, but he still saw her slight smile. “I swear.”
She turned her head toward him. “Thank you for being here with me.”
“It’s where I want to be.” He’d pulled her coffee table close to the couch, and then gently lifted her feet up on a pillow.
She was reclining as much as she could, which wasn’t much.
A lounge chair might be better for her, but she didn’t have one, and if he got one, then he wouldn’t be next to her. “Are you sleepy?
“A little.”
Sleep would be the best thing for her—but her confession was still out there, and he didn’t want her to think he’d dodged
the topic, or worse, that he didn’t care. “Do you feel like explaining what you said earlier?”
“About how my parents died?”
Maybe, with it darker now, it’d be easier for her to share. “Yes—if you feel up to it. If you’d rather sleep and talk in the
morning, that’s okay, too. Just know that everything about you interests me.” He wouldn’t blame her, never that, but if she
blamed herself, getting it out there might help her rest easier.