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After crossing the room and examining them, she softly declared, “No.”
My boner evaporated and my chest pinged. Then I promised myself to buy her a thousand pairs of PJs. Any kind she wanted. “Sorry, babe. Want one of my shirts?” I again head-gestured to a little table. “Check out that pile.” Earlier, Vice had brought in some clothes from my saddlebag, which meant someone had retrieved my bike since I’d been gone.
“No. You need fresh clothes for tomorrow—I mean, later today.” She took off her towel with no hesitation about being naked.
I was about to stop her but then got a gander at Heaven with legs. “Oh my God.”
Still holding her towel in the air, she jolted to a stop. “What?”
Elle wasn’t stunning. She was earth-shattering. “Elle, babe, your body is spectacular.”
As if this fact were a downfall, she exhaled. “So it seems.”
Watching her turn to hang her towel on the back of a chair, I started to ask, “You don’t know how gor—” but couldn’t finish.
Instead, I froze, my mouth gaping.
As she continued to hang the towel, her back was now exposed to me. Her hair was long, so partially covered the horror, but wet strands clung to each other enough to show me what nightmares are made of.
Without facing me, she nodded. “I’m sorry.” She knew why I had gone silent.
From right beneath her shoulders, to above her ass, Elle’s skin was littered with gruesome, thick scars.
Not looking at me, she went to my pile of clothing. “I’ll cover it up.”
The sight was so shocking, I struggled to talk. “Wait—Babe.”
“It’s okay.” Her voice had lost all brightness. Now it was dull and almost robotic. “I know its ghastly.” Her manner, her tone, had lost all the vigor from the witty woman at Devil’s Cave.
“Babe?”
Void of life, she faced me. “Do you prefer I sleep elsewhere, sir?”
“Sir?” I blinked. “Elle, why… why would I want—?”
“I understand.” Numbly, she headed for the door.
“Wait—” I was baffled. “What the fuck is happening?”
Almost to the door, there was no attempt to cover herself. She seemed to have no reservations about who would see her naked as soon as she left the room.
Knowing there was at least one man posted outside, possibly more, a newfound jealousy erupted in me. I growled, “Elle, you better not walk out that door.”
As if I wasn’t even speaking, her hand reached for the doorknob.
“Stop!” There is no reasonable explanation for why I was already crazy for this girl, but I was. I didn’t give one fuck about her scars. I craved and desired her just the same.
Facing the door, she stilled.
When she didn’t turn around without a command, my stomach spoiled. Was I seeing the trafficked victim in her? That thought caused me immense pain. I wasn’t going to command another thing from her tonight. I was going to be the man she needed.
I forced myself out of bed to go to her. Hurt like hell, but I insisted that my body obey. Walking, and holding the stitched hole in my gut, I stared at the puffed skin on her back, some newer, some older, and thought to myself, Elle and Lynx, both scarred from our hostile fates.
As gently as I could, I begged, “Elle, look at me.”
Like a zombie, she faced me.
Her beautiful face, now stoic, replaced my worry with panic. I took a step closer. “Oh, sweet girl, talk to me.”
