He stretched out on the bed next to Seychelle, inhaling her scent, that special fragrance that clung to her skin and hair. The moment he turned on his side and laid his head on her belly, he wrapped his arm tightly around her hips. Holding her. Trying not to feel like he was a monster, but knowing he was. Knowing it was Seychelle who would take the terrible burden off of him long enough for him to breathe. To gather himself enough to let that terrible weight settle back on his shoulders.
He kissed her soft belly and then nuzzled her bare skin. She wore a tank and nothing else. He ran his fingers through those soft blond curls that he was going to shave off. He wanted her completely bare, so he could see, and she could feel everything he did to her. Good things. Bad things. Dirty things. Things that would make her scream for him. Things that would made him so aroused and hard it wouldn’t matter that his cock was scarred and too tight to stretch properly. And she would give him her tears freely. Just as he took on the pain for his brothers and sisters, proving his love for them over and over, she would do it for him. The only person in the world who would give him unconditional love, she would do that for him.
He pressed another kiss into her soft skin. His canvas. His woman. He found he liked that. He’d never thought in terms of having a woman, but that something in her that called to him had found its way deep. Lying there in the dark, his head on her belly, his arm around her hips, he let himself breathe her in. Love welled up, swallowing the rage like it did every time he laid his head on her. Closing his eyes, he inhaled all the beauty that was Seychelle Dubois.
ELEVEN
Seychelle woke with a fierce headache. Her mouth felt like cotton, dry and sour. She groaned and turned over, keeping her eyes shut tight in case the sun was blazing through the window. Silently, she sent up a prayer that there would be fog. Lots and lots of dense fog, so she could see if she dared open her eyes.
“Come on, baby, time to get up. You’ve slept the day away, when you weren’t throwing up.” There was amusement in the voice. “You could just possibly be the worst drinker on the planet.”
She knew that voice. She didn’t have to see him to know her worst nightmare was right there in her house. She vaguely remembered Savage putting her in the car and driving her home. She spread her fingers over her eyes and slowly opened them. He’d pulled the screens, thank heavens. Outside, the wind hit the windows and rattled them. Just the slight whistling noise reverberated through her head.
Even through her fingers, the room spun a little bit. Her stomach lurched. Hastily, she closed her eyes. She remembered him holding her hair out of the way while she vomited. Worse, she remembered being on the floor of the bathroom. Why couldn’t she just have blacked out completely and never recalled a single detail?
It was even worse than the worst, if that was possible. He’d put her in the shower. He’d been in the shower with her. She’d been naked. Was she still naked? She dared to look down at her body. She was, thankfully, wearing one of her racer-back tanks. Oh God, she’d been all over him, touching him, stroking him. She hoped she hadn’t done more than that, but she might have.
“Come on, baby, you can’t hide forever. It’s time to face the music.”
“Why not?” She tested her voice. “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t good last night.”
“I’m sure you’re right. You can’t drink worth shit.”
She forced herself to look at him. The moment she did, her heart did a funny little flip. He looked so invincible. So strong. He had roped muscles and not an ounce of fat. He had horrendous scars and burns, terrible burns, but on him, those scars just made him more attractive, as well as giving him the illusion of being indestructible.
She had the grace to look ashamed. “I know. I should never drink. Never. One, and I’m going under fast.”
“Was that your first time?”
“No. I tried another time and threw up like crazy on one drink.”
“You spent most of the night throwing up. It wasn’t pretty.”
She pushed back her hair, trying not to remember anything else, but she couldn’t stop herself from seeing another man’s face. “There was someone named Bill. Please tell me I didn’t do anything dumb.”
He shook his head. “Baby, you were going home with that man.”
“I wasn’t.” She was shocked. That couldn’t be true. That was more than dumb. Worse than dumb. She thought she might have talked to him. Flirted. Used her voice shamelessly. But going home with him? She groaned and covered her face with her hands.