Scars of Yesterday (Sons of Templar MC 8)

“You didn’t lock the door,” a voice stated as I stepped into my bungalow.

If I could’ve crawled up the wall in fear, I would’ve. As it was, I just scuttled back, hit the door and let out a girly scream. I didn’t go for a weapon or try to run or anything. Didn’t do any of the things women were meant to do when there was a man in their house nearing midnight.

But I knew that voice.

I used to, at least.

My hands fumbled for the light switch.

“Cody,” I whispered, my eyes running over the man standing in front of me. That’s what he was, a fully-grown man. Sure, he’d been pretty damn manly the last time I saw him, but he’d packed on muscle now. A lot of it. The sleeves on his Henley were straining with the muscles he’d covered it with. His shoulders, broad before, were huge. His midnight hair was closely cropped now, making the angles of his face that much sharper.

It was his eyes that had changed the most, though. They were colder. Scarier. But there was still something in there. Something him.

I moved forward, to go to him, smell him, taste him, but his hands on my shoulders stopped me.

“Why wasn’t your door looked, Lizzie?” he asked, voice flat.

I blinked at the inane question considering everything. His hands burned at my shoulders, my body sucking up the contact like a drug. “Um, the door?” I repeated, still swimming through tequila even though his presence was enough to almost entirely sober me up.

“Yes, Lizzie, the fuckin’ door.” The grip on my shoulders bordered on pain now.

Cody had never hurt me. He was always gentle. Too gentle almost. I’d ached for him to press me against walls, to ravage me like I’d read about in all those books.

That was a good word for him right now. Ravaged. With something.

“This is Amber,” I said in response. “Nothing happens here.”

This, apparently, was the wrong thing to say. His face twisted into something resembling fury, his grip tightening even farther.

“Something can happen anywhere. You’re alone.” His eyes ran over my body, my body immediately responding. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful. Something will happen. It’s just a matter of time.”

“Maybe I’m not alone anymore?” I wondered out loud, looking up at him. “Are you back, Cody?” I swallowed roughly, his presence, his anger, his scent doing things to me. Awakening things that had lain dormant for four fucking years. But I had to pause. I forced myself to take a slow, deep breath even though all I wanted to do was pounce on him. Taste him.

“Have you come back to me?” My question came out softer than I’d intended. Weaker. I was supposed to be stronger now. Harder. Supposed to prove what these four years had done to my independence. Supposed to torture him, make him pay for the way his absence had tortured me. Make him work to get me back. But I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t lie to Cody, couldn’t put on any kind of mask. All I wanted was him. I didn’t want games. I’d already forgiven him the second I walked out of his bedroom four years ago.

Something moved on his face again. It wasn’t fury. No, this was something else. Something softer. Something that resembled the Cody I had once known. The one I dreamed about.

“You’re not going to yell at me? Tell me how much you hate me for breaking your heart? Tell me to get the fuck outta your house?” He sounded different. Confused. Lost some of that fierce bravado that was foreign yet attractive.

“You did break my heart,” I explained. “But you broke your own too. You hurt yourself because you thought it was the best thing for me.” I moved my arm to cradle his jaw. When we were together, he’d let his stubble grow because he’d known I liked the roughness against my skin. Loved the marks I’d get on my inner thighs. He’d grown a full beard now. It was rough against my palm. He smelled different too. Leather and smoke.

“You’ve tortured yourself more than enough by the looks of it,” I whispered, my heart breaking all over again as I took in everything that was different about him. “And I’m not going to waste the precious time I have with you yelling. Now, I repeat my question, have you come back to me?”

Pain clouded his eyes, his body still tense under my touch. “It’s not that simple.”

I tilted my head. “Oh, of course there’re a lot of complicated things that we’ll have to work through. But the one thing that is simple is whether you’re going to let me in or not. If we’re going to work on them together. I want to tell you right now, wherever you’ve been, whatever you’ve done that I’m sure you’ve convinced yourself that I can’t handle,” I narrowed my eyes, “I can handle it. I can handle you. So are you here to stay?”