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“You're not getting me naked that easy,” I mumble through numb lips.
He laughs. “Wasn't a problem last time. But relax, we’re just gonna check you over and make sure you aren’t about to collapse on us. We're no fucking doctors, but between the three of us, we have plenty of experience with both sides of ass kicking. Let us give you a once-over. Then if you start feeling better and decide you want to show how thankful you are, I won’t turn it down.”
Mack laughs. “Yeah, darlin’. Nothing personal, but the walking dead look isn’t really my thing.”
That stings a little. “Fine. The bathroom’s over there.”
It’s not a tiny bathroom, but it feels small with the three of us in there, especially since Reaper and Mack are super-size. They help me sit on the edge of the tub, and Reaper lifts my arms to help Mack pull off my shirt, but they leave my bra. I hiss in pain when my side is touched.
“Shit, that’s going to be pretty in the morning,” Reaper says under his breath. “We should have shot those fuckers.”
Mack’s touch burns like fire as he traces my ribs. I find myself holding my breath while he gently examines me. For such rough hands, he's got a soft touch. “This looks fucking personal. Four guys their size? They could’ve fucked her up a lot worse than they did.”
“Yeah, they were real gentle,” I say bitterly.
But Reaper nods, agreeing with Mack. He takes my hands and starts cleaning off the dried blood with a warm washcloth. “Are you ready to tell us what happened?”
“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” I lie. Guilt prickles at my conscience, but I know what I did wrong and I won’t make that mistake again. Admitting it to them will just cause more problems and maybe get someone killed.
“That’s your story?” Mack raises an eyebrow.
They stand me up and Reaper reaches for the top of my pants.
“Wait! There’s nothing?—”
With practiced ease, he unbuttons my jeans and tugs them down over my hips. “Shhh, what did we say? Looking at your body isn’t exactly a hardship, but that’s not why I want into your pants right now.”
I close my eyes and press my lips together to stay quiet while they gently strip me to my underwear and socks. The worst part is when they reveal the ugly burn scars on my leg. The party was the first time I was intimate with anyone since the fire, but it wasn’t exactly a slow exploration. Even though this isn’t sex, I feel more exposed right now than I did then. I focus on a spot on the wall and try to keep my breathing even.
“What the fuck, Mila? You think we’re here to fucking judge you?” Reaper pulls off his own shirt and grabs my wrist, putting one of my hands over the scar on his right shoulder before I realize what he’s doing. “Does this disgust you?”
“Of course not!” I know what he’s saying. If I don’t mind his scars, then why should he mind mine, right? But… it’s different. On dangerous men it’s hot. When people see my scars, they get this sad look in their eyes like I’m a chipped mug. Not broken enough to throw away, but never the one you reach for first. Still, my fingers trace the smooth raised lines of his injury. “How long ago did it happen?”
“Shit, almost ten years I guess. Car accident. I hated it for a long time, but our bodies tell a story and it’s just part of me, like my ink. These scars remind me that I fucking survived. You should?—”
“Back off, Reaper,” Mack says softly, but it’s clearly an order. He strokes a red spot on the outside of my thigh. “Does this hurt?”
It doesn’t, but as his strong fingers skim over my sensitive skin, I do feel some other things. “You're being very thorough,” I whisper.
Mack pulls down the side of my underwear and kisses my hip. “Because I don’t want you hurting, but also, I just like touching you. How about we go see if Scrapper has the coffee ready and get some sugar and caffeine into you? A shower or bath would be good for you, but not if you pass out. Then we’ll get you some painkillers and you can crash.”
Of course, that's when the front door opens and I hear a little scream from the living room.
I grab a towel and wrap it around myself, running out of the bathroom with Reaper and Mack on my heels. “Meghan! It’s fine. They’re with me.”
“What’s going on?” Meghan is standing in the doorway, looking back and forth between the four of us. “Why are you naked? Why are they here with you while you’re naked!”
“I’m wearing underwear.” I pull the towel tight around me like a shield. “I wasn’t expecting you home until later.”
She looks mad. “Clearly. Well maybe if you’d messaged me to let me know you were okay, I wouldn’t have left early! I was really worried about you.”
“Hello again,” Scrapper says, holding up a mug. “Coffee?”
“Hi,” she says, distracted. “Mila, what happened? I thought you were meeting Mullerby? Why are your hands all messed up?”
I can’t believe this is happening. “Meghan, this is Reaper and Mack. Guys, this is my friend Meghan. I swear nothing was going on. I got into a little trouble earlier.”
“What kind of trouble? Did they hurt you?” She reaches for her phone. “Should I call the police?”
