Beneath the Scars

After the rush of heat and the deep orgasmic release, came the quiet, mindless bliss of resting in her arms, my head buried in her fragrant hair. Our bodies were still intertwined, joined together in the most intimate way, as we slowly recovered.

I breathed in her scent, the soft floral aroma filling my head. For the first time in so long, my body relaxed, my mind calm and at peace because of the woman I was holding. The light outside had faded, the room now dark as she curled into me, her head tucked under my chin, her fingers tracing lazy circles on my chest. There was no need to talk or move. I only wanted to stay right beside her, sharing this warmth. It felt more intimate in many ways than the act itself. I could feel her smooth cheek touching my damaged skin, her gentle fingertips tracing small pitted marks. Surprised at the lack of panic I felt, I let her touch me without restriction.

Her quiet voice broke the stillness. “Will you tell me?”

A heavy breath left my lungs. “Yes.”

“But not now?”

“No, not now. I need to think things through. This”—I squeezed her into my side— “is very new to me. I haven’t ever had a woman in this house,” I confessed. “It’s been a very long time since I was with anyone.” I didn’t tell her that in the past, it was unusual for me to stay with someone after sex. Except what we’d done didn’t feel like sex. It felt like something deeper, something more.

“How long?”

“Since the accident. I’m used to being alone.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

My arms tensed. “No. Stay with me.”* * *The room was pitch-black when I awoke. My arms were empty, and the other side of the bed felt cold. I sat up, alert and anxious. She’d said she would stay. I wanted her with me when I woke up.

Where had she gone?

I grabbed my pants, ignoring the fact they were still damp from the ocean spray, and raced down the stairs and across the hall, stopping when I saw Megan sitting at the table, idly flipping the pages of a magazine. She looked up at my sudden entrance, confusion written on her expression.

Relief flooded my body, finding her still in my home. The panic that gripped my heart, eased as she grinned. I returned her smile, even as I wondered where all these unknown feelings were coming from or how the sight of her sweet smile could erase my distress.

Crossing the room, I dragged her up into my arms, kissing her fiercely. “You were gone.”

“It was late, and your stomach was grumbling in your sleep,” she chuckled. “I got up to make us something to eat.”

“Oh.”

She poked me in the chest. “You need to go grocery shopping, mister. I scraped together what I could for omelets. I was waiting for the toast to be ready, then I was going to come get you.”

I noticed then the table was set and the aroma of food in the air. “Okay. I’ll go put on a shirt.”

“You don’t have to; I don’t mind.”

I hesitated. “I’d be more comfortable with one,” I admitted. The kitchen was well lit, and I knew she would see my scars without the softening effects of shadows. I didn’t like to look at them and I wasn’t sure she really wanted to while we were eating either.

“All right,” she agreed easily. “Whatever makes you happy. It’ll be ready when you get back.”

I walked down the hall, her words echoing in my head. Whatever makes you happy.

I wasn’t sure there had ever been a time in my life I was happy.

I honestly didn’t know if I knew how to feel that way.

Until she entered my life.* * *“This is good,” I complimented Megan. “Especially considering how limited my supplies are at present.”

“Do you want to go into town tomorrow and get some things?”

I swallowed the mouthful of omelet as I nodded. “I’ll call Mrs. Cooper and arrange what I need. I have to get some things at the gallery.”

“Why do you have to call ahead?”

My hand tightened on my fork. “Not everyone is as accepting or polite about how I look as you are, Megan. It’s pretty quiet this time of year, but I always call ahead and tell her what I need. She has it all ready and I pick it up from the back. I also use the rear entrance of the gallery.”

“You seem comfortable with her and Jonathon. He mentioned you’re a friend of his wife,” she stated gently. “Ashley, I think he said her name was?”

“I knew the Coopers…before.” I cleared my throat and shifted in my chair, already feeling uncomfortable. “Ashley and Jonathon have always been kind.” My eyes met hers directly. “Others have not.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”