Page 61 of Pretty Little Scars

“You should have asked me to bring you fresh clothes,” I murmur as we walk inside. “You can’t be comfortable like that.”

“There honestly wasn’t time,” she replies and drags her hand down her face. “It feels like the last two days were on fast forward.”

“Funny. They were the longest two days of my life. Do you want to shower or eat first?”

“Can I just have a granola bar or something that I can walk and eat at the same time? Protein shake?”

I grab a few things for her to choose from, and she plucks a protein bar out of my fingers, and then I lead her upstairs to the bedroom.

She’s happily munching her way through the bar when I step into the bathroom and get the water running in the shower, but when I turn around, she’s almost sleeping standing up, the mostly eaten bar hanging down at her side, swaying on her feet. I rush to her, wrap my arms around her, and she leans against my chest.

“Okay, you can’t be left to your own devices, pretty girl.”

“So sleepy,” she murmurs as I take the last of the bar out of her hand and toss it on the dresser, then lead her into the bathroom, where I take the hem of her shirt in my hands and she lifts her arms up as I tug it over her head and toss it in the hamper.

Goddamn, she’s beautiful.

Her breasts are full and will fit in my hands perfectly, her nipples puckered from the cool air. I unclasp her bra and it falls to the floor.

“You’re going to see my scars,” she whispers against my chest. She sounds so sad about that, and it makes my heart catch. “And I’m too tired to do anything about it.”

“You’re going to see mine too.” I kiss the top of her head as I work on her leggings and underwear, and she frowns at me, not understanding. “We can share scar stories later.”

I whip my shirt over my head and make quick work of my jeans and boxer briefs before leading her into the hot stream, where she groans as if it’s the best thing she’s ever felt in her life.

“So good,” she says as her shoulders sag, and I grab a cloth and soap and begin to work it over her.

She leans one hand on the tile, keeping herself standing as I wash her skin, from neck to toe. Her eyes are heavy lidded as she watches me, as they dip to the scars that run across my lower abdomen and down my right leg.

Blinking rapidly, her eyes move up to mine again, and she reaches up to cup my cheek.

“I’m fine,” I assure her. “Don’t worry about me.”

But seeing the concern and care in her beautiful blue eyes does something to my heart. It rolls in my chest as she swallows hard and looks down again.

“I need to get your back and wash your hair, baby. Are you okay with turning around?”

I see the little scars on her upper arms from the barbed wire that she told me about before, and it’s already fueled my agitation that she was hurt this way. But I know I’m going to have to keep the fury under control that seeing her back will bring. I haven’t even laid eyes on it yet, and I’m already pissed as fuck for her.

She nods stiffly and turns around, and I can’t contain the quick inhale through my nose at the sight before me.Jesus fucking Christ.

“I’m fine,” she says, echoing my own words, as she stares at the tile wall in front of her, and I know in this instant that I would gladly spend the rest of my life in prison if I couldonly have the opportunity to tear her father apart with my bare hands.

I’m not fine. I’m not fucking fine at all.

Her back is a crisscross pattern of deep scars, from the tops of her shoulders down to her butt and upper thighs. Some scars are smaller, like he took a razor blade and made tiny little cuts.

But there are many places that look like she was whipped, over and over again, and as I wash over her skin, the soapy water sluices through the scars like they’re riverbeds.

I have to grit my teeth to stop myself from growling.

When the soap is gone, I take my time washing her hair and then conditioning it before I turn off the water and grab a towel from the warmer.

“You didn’t wash,” she says softly, leaning against me.

“I had a shower a few hours ago.” I kiss her nose before I get to work drying her and then wrapping her in the towel, and then, to her surprise, I set her on the vanity. “Stay. I’ll be right back.”

“Yes, sir.”