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“I certainly hope so,” he growls. His thumb rolls over my clit as he begins to rock his fingers deep inside of me. “Mmm. That’s it, baby. Let go for me. If you pass out, I’ll catch you. Whatever happens, I got you.”

The sexiest thing a man could ever say to me is that I don’t have to worry. My eyes roll back as my lips open in a soundless sigh, my body shuddering as I ride my orgasm out on his fingers.

“So goddamned sexy,” he whispers reverently as I open my eyes, pulling his fingers from my cunt. I watch as he shoves them into his mouth, cleaning them with his tongue as he groans. “I’m not done with you. Why have you been avoiding my shop, Isla?”

“I…”

“Mmhmm. Think about it while you ride my back like a spider monkey.”

I squeal as he stands and swings me behind him, holding on for dear life while he picks up the tray of dirty dishes and blows out the candles.

I fix my shirt as he walks inside, puts the dishes in the sink with some soap and then climbs the stairs.

“Please don’t judge me by my mess.”

“I would never,” I tease him, biting my lip as we walk into his bedroom.

Arran pulls me from his back as if I weigh nothing and tosses me onto his bed, smirking as I gasp. My lips part as he grabs his shirt by the back of the neck and pulls it off, while I finally divest myself of my purse and place it on his bedside table. My skirt is a mess of material around my upper thighs, and his eyes can’t stop moving over me.

“Answer my question and stop eye fucking me.”

“You’re half naked. I can’t.”

“You’re multi-talented. Try,” he growls, climbing after me onto the bed. “Are you avoiding me because of my clientele?”

“Magnus didn’t scare me, but I’m one girl and there are a lot of bikers coming in and out of your shop,” I say tentatively. “I like to fly under the radar, Arran.”

“I may have told them all you were mine,” he mutters. “I won’t allow anyone to come here who will make trouble for me or our little corner of the world. I’ve turned down people already because of it. I like your self preservation.”

“You’ll love my taser then,” I giggle, enjoying his sexy grin.

“Talk dirty to me, baby.” Arran unzips my boot and pulls it off, dropping it to the floor behind him. He does the same with the next one and then he’s digging his thumbs into the soles of my feet. His smile is devilish as he watches the way my back arches as he massages, saying, “You’re so responsive. I fucking love it. I’m going to leave your socks on, but plan to touch every part of you.”

I’m enjoying his touch too much to think about what that means, moaning as he massages my calf muscles. “Do you stretch before you do all of the walking that you do?”

“Nuh-uh.”

Arran chuckles as he continues to move up my legs and a frisson of fear flirts up my spine as he brushes my thighs.

“Arran.” His fingers still as his gaze settles on mine, his blue eyes filling with concern.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No. You’re perfect. You’re going to feel something you’re probably going to have questions about. I can leave if it’s something you can’t handle.”

His eyes harden and he continues to move up my thighs, but it’s a heartbreakingly slow pace. “I know I give a really good impression of someone who scares easily, but I don’t. If I text too much, I no longer care. If I’m too eager, fuck it. Games are for limp dicks, Isla.”

The backs of his hands continue to push the poofy material of my skirt up until the pads of his fingers are moving against the scars on my thighs. Arran’s hands push my legs open to inspect them and I bite my bottom lip as my cheeks flood with embarrassment.

I wear shorts when I go to the pool and at the beach to hide them. My son has no idea I have these scars, and he never will. They’re never spoken about in front of him, they simply are a part of who I am.

“I don’t do it anymore,” I whisper, propping myself up on my elbows.

“Know what I see?” His hands grab my ass and pull me until I fall back before lifting my leg up onto his shoulder. I’m fully exposed to him and I shake my head as he presses his lips to my thigh. “Somone who was in pain and was silently screaming to be seen.”

His tongue drags along my scars and my breath hitches as he moves to my other thigh.

“I also see a survivor, but they obviously bother you. If you ever want to change what they look like and get some ink designed for it, just say the word. It would be my honor to have your art and my ink on your skin. Please don’t cry.”