I close my eyes, letting the air touch the bare skin of my legs and allowing him to see the real me.
Just as I gather the strength to share my history, the nightmare I survived, Cooper’s lips caress the ugliness as his hands heat either side of my right thigh.
When I look down, a tear escapes my eye before I swipe it away, and it lands on his head. He looks up at me, and with our eyes fixed on each other’s, he kisses my leg again, and says, “So. Fucking. Sexy.”
13
Cooper
It’s a vicious scar.
Running a good eight inches down the front of her thigh, the scar has faded over the years from angry to something on the softer side of pink. It’s then that I realize she’s been hiding this from me. Wearing everything from flannel pajama pants to jeans . . . to tights in the heat of summer. “Why do you hide this?” I ask, running the tips of my fingers over it.
Goose bumps pebble the skin on her inner thigh, and I’m quick to warm it, not realizing until more rise that I’m the cause of them.
She covers my hand and then comes and sits next to me on the bed. “Many reasons, the first of which is that it’s hideous.”
“It’s not. We all have scars.”
“I know. Some we just can’t see. Trust me, Cooper, I’ve heard every platitude out there. They don’t make me feel better. They make me realize how revolting people think I am that they have to say things like that in the first place.”
I didn’t expect the shortness. “Okay, how about I don’t placate you. I just speak the truth?”
She looks at me, contemplating the offer. “Whose truth?”
“Mine. The only one that matters.”
Laughing, she says, “You say that without any doubts.”
“I’m an expert in the field of my truth.” I kiss her shoulder while running my hand over her scar. Not sure if it’s my comment or my kiss that has her smiling, but I’ll take it either way.
“Can I ask you something, Cooper?”
“Anything.”
Her head is lowered again, which I hate. Her eyes watch my hand like she’s ready to bolt if I give her the chance. “Does seeing this make you feel any differently about me?” she asks.
“Truthfully?”
Tapping her head gently to my shoulder, she stays there a moment before she sits up again. “Honesty. Always.”
“Yes.” Her shoulders sag under the confession until I add, “I find you even more gorgeous than before.”
As if the words themselves ran up her back, she sits straighter and then looks into my eyes with tears glistening in hers. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Why?” she asks, not as shy as before.
“Because it’s uniquely yours. You were right. We all have scars in different places, inside and out. I have some on my back from when I grew six inches over one summer in high school and one on my ankle when a deep-sea fishing line wrapped around my ankle and tightened, leaving me bleeding. I have one on my temple from when I got tackled in my junior year in high school and my helmet got knocked off, leaving a bad cut behind. God, I’m covered with them, and you know what? When I imagine my face the moment before I look in the mirror, you know how you expect to see something familiar in your reflection?” She nods as I take her hand between mine, holding it captive. “I see that scar in my mind. That’s who I am.”
“I don’t want to be this scar. I want it to go away. I want the memory of being dragged across that glass to be gone forever.”
My stomach tightens from the imagery, but my heart sinks from the pain shaping her face. I wrap my arm around her and kiss the side of her head. “I can’t fix this, but I’m going to try my damnedest to take your mind off of it for a while.”
She reaches over and pulls me closer with two fingers under my chin. “I think that’s just about the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me, Cooper Haywood.” She kisses me, slowly standing. Pulling away, she asks, “I think I lost track of where we left off. Maybe you remember?”
“I remember.” I slide back to the top of the bed, settling on the pillow again with my hands underneath my head for support. “You were just getting naked for me.”
Laughter fills the apartment, and this time, she crawls up my body in her bra and panties. “Nice try, playboy.”
I shrug. “Can you blame me?”
“I’d be offended if you didn’t make the effort.” She settles on my dick with only our underwear between us and then fucking wriggles. The woman can’t resist teasing me.
When her gaze lowers to the scar on her thigh, I see her hand follow right after. I catch it and hold her hand, putting it above my head, which is a great decision on my part since her fantastic tits land in my face. Tilting down to look at me, she laughs. “What are you doing?”