Hot Winter Nights Read online

  “Yes, and it sucks you went through that, but they helped, right?”

  “Some,” she said. “They’ve gone in from my front, from the back, and in through my side. And there are scars. Ugly ones. And I don’t know if you know, but if you’re not a size two with zero body fat, and if you have a bunch of scars in some of your . . . problem areas, things don’t look quite right once you heal. There are bulges where there shouldn’t be bulges and—”

  “I’ve felt your scars,” he said. “They don’t matter. They’re just a road map of your life. I have plenty myself. Nothing changes the fact that I think you’re incredibly sexy and absolutely perfect.”

  “But that’s because we were in the dark,” she said, “and you were highly motivated to get to the good stuff.”

  He flashed a smile at that. “Still highly motivated. But, Molly, it’s all the good stuff.”

  Damn, he was good. “Okay, so here’s the real thing,” she said.

  “Finally.”

  “So when I’ve been in this situation before . . .” God, this was awkward. So awkward. “People sort of freaked out on me and then I couldn’t . . . um, finish, so to speak, and I ruined everything.”

  Still on his knees before her, butt-ass naked, he didn’t budge. Maybe he didn’t even blink. “People?”

  “My first boyfriend.” She grimaced. “And my second.” She’d been nineteen when she’d dated Ben. They’d both been inexperienced and it’d been several times before they’d had sex with enough light for him to really get a look at her. There’d been no missing his reaction—and she’d only had two of the surgeries at that time—but he’d gone from aroused, to horrified, to pity.

  Pity was her kryptonite.

  And maybe the worst part of it was later, when he’d tried to deny his reaction, they’d petered out before trying again.

  Her second boyfriend, Tim, had been four years later. She’d been twenty-three. They’d dated for six months, during which time she’d managed to make it so they’d only had sex in the relative dark. If he ever questioned the feel of her scars, he’d never said a word. She’d liked him. A lot. Probably too much. She’d let her guard down and allowed herself to be talked into going out on his family’s boat on Lake Shasta. He’d taken one look at her in her bathing suit and gotten that expression in his eyes.

  Horror. And then pity.

  It’d been a lot harder to dump Tim than Ben.

  And it would be even harder to dump Lucas. She drew a deep breath and told Lucas the bare minimum about both Ben and Tim.

  “Dumbasses,” Lucas declared. “Anyone else?”

  “No. Well . . .” She squirmed a little bit at having to admit this. “I did have a one-night stand once, but we didn’t, erm, undress all the way.”

  He smiled. “Nice.”

  She had no idea what she’d expected, but it hadn’t been this easy acceptance of her choices.

  “Show me,” he said.

  Holding his gaze, she bit her lower lip in indecision.

  “Molly, I just saw you single-handedly handle Bad Santa on your own. You’re kickass. What are you afraid of?”

  Oh so many, many things . . .

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll show you mine first.” He pointed to a scar on his left pec. A puckered, half inch divot in his skin. “From a bullet back when I worked at the DEA. I cornered a bad guy. He didn’t like it.”

  It was so close to his heart it nearly stopped hers. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to the spot.

  He made a very low, very male noise and slid a hand up her thigh. “Show me,” he repeated softly. “Please?”

  She hesitated, but her body wanted his and overruled her brain. Her elf costume was snug. Pulling her arms free of the material, she pushed the dress down to her hips, revealing her black strappy sports bra. She pointed to a six-inch long horizontal scar on her side at her waist that had sliced her from front to back. You couldn’t miss it as it’d puckered a little bit and cut inward, which made her look like she had a panty line there, even though her panties were far lower. As far as her other scars went, though, it was her most minor. “Surgery on my L2-L4,” she said.

  His hands went to her hips and he leaned in, his broad shoulders blocking out much of the light as he brushed his mouth over the scar gently. Then he straightened and pointed to a four-inch scar low on his abs. “Knife wound,” he said. “Working for Archer. A perp got the jump on me and tried to gut me. He was very nearly successful too.”

  She ran her fingers along the scar, which due to his extreme fitness level had healed well, no puckering of fat or unevenness for him. Still, it was a visceral reminder of exactly how dangerous his life had been. Still was. He’d nearly lost his life several times over. And he hadn’t let it affect him, she thought.

  Not like she had.

  When her fingers touched his skin, he’d hummed in pleasure and his eyes darkened like they did when he was aroused. She stared at him, awed by how a simple touch from her could render him boneless.

  It was exciting.

  Empowering.

  Eyes maintaining contact with his, she scooted back on the bed and then rolled to lie down on her stomach, cradling her head on her folded arms. She couldn’t see him in this position, but heard him rise and set a knee on the bed.

  Knowing what he was looking at now, she closed her eyes. A vicious-looking scar ran from the base of her neck all the way down her spine, broken in two spots signaling two different surgeries. With her dress still at her hips, he couldn’t see all of it, but he could get the gist.

  Along the length of the worst of the scarring was the tattoo Sadie had given her that read:

  Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional . . .

  She stilled when she felt his lips on the back of her neck, sighing in pleasure as he ran hot, open-mouthed kisses down the length of her spine.

  When he started to tug the dress the rest of the way off, she flipped over. “Wait,” she said. “It’s back to your turn.”

  “I think that’s it,” he said.

  “No.” Sitting up, she put a palm to his heart. “What’s wrong here?”

  He covered her hand with one of his. “It’s been broken,” he admitted quietly.

  “When you lost Josh.”

  He nodded.

  “And Carrie.”

  He nodded again.

  She nodded too, and then leaned forward and pressed her mouth to the spot right over his heart. He sank his fingers into her hair and gently pulled her away, nudging her down to the bed where he then proceeded to kiss every one of her doubts away.

  It’d been a long time since she’d allowed herself to trust a guy to see past her flaws. But it was as if he didn’t even see them at all. He simply saw all of her, as a whole, and that was incredibly freeing.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against the skin of her hip as he slid her dress the rest of the way off, tossing it over his shoulder. Positioning one knee between her legs, he braced himself over her, dipping his head down to lick the skin of her collarbone.

  In reaction, she arched up off the bed, craving more. So much more. Sliding her hands up his back, she urged him closer because she needed this. Needed him. Needed the feel of his skin pressed to hers, radiating all that heat and power of his into her. Feeling the steady beat of his heart against her own, she raised her hips, hungry to have him inside her. “Please, Lucas,” she breathed. “Please, now.”

  With a rough groan, he managed to strip her bra and undies off and to come up with a condom. He buried himself inside her in one perfect thrust. When he began to move, she lost her mind. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she pressed her heels against his lower back. “Faster,” she whispered.

  He smiled against her lips. “What else. Tell me.”

  “Harder.”

  With a rough groan, he gave her what she wanted until she came apart for him, and only when the last of the shudders left her did he lift his face from where he’d had it buried in her