“Right. I’m damaged goods. I know that. Now I’ve got the scars to match.” I inhaled shakily. “Now, you can actually see them.”
He parked carefully and turned to me. I was amazed at how carefully he’d driven. He hadn’t jostled my wounds once. I owed him thanks for that, along with a million other things, big and small.
“You couldn’t be more wrong.”
“About what?” I asked, refusing to look at him.
“About everything.”
He turned me to face him, unbuckling my belt and gently cupping my face.
“You are more beautiful because of your scars. Because you are a survivor. Your scars are beautiful, but it’s not just about the way you look. It’s who you are. No one is stronger. No one is braver.”
“You are,” I whispered, tears clogging my throat.
“Sweetheart, I’m not worthy to lick your boots.” He gave me a stormy look. He was serious. He really didn’t think he was good enough for me. The man was insane. “But I’m still going to try.”
“Try what?” I asked breathlessly.
“Try to be worthy of you. To stand up and be the best man I can be, all just to measure up to you. I know I will fall short, but I’ve got to try.” His gaze got warmer and more intimate. “And I want to lick you, too.”
My mouth opened at the sensual heat he was giving off.
“I want to you lick you top to bottom. I want to lick you like a lollipop.”
I closed my mouth and stared.
“Shane . . .”
He kissed me softly, gently. The kiss deepened until our tongues were tangled, twining like two snakes in love. Love. He’d said he loved me back when he found me and again at the hospital. Maybe he’d only said it because I was hurt. I still couldn’t quite believe it. He lifted his head and smiled ruefully.
“I know. I have to wait.” He sighed dramatically. “Maybe if you are feeling good in a few days, I can have a taste.”
I felt my insides turn to mush. I wanted him to taste me right now. I wanted to taste him, even though I knew I wouldn’t be any good at it.
“I want to taste you too,” I whispered shyly.
He groaned and closed his eyes.
“Please don’t tease me, Parker. I can’t take it.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me either, woman! I nearly got you killed!”
Before I could argue, he’d jumped out of the car and walked around to help me out. He put his arm around my waist, careful to avoid my wound.
“I got you a cane. Shit. Hold on.”
He left me leaning against the weathered wood railing that led up the porch steps. I watched as he ran inside and came back out with a cane. It was pretty, too. Not some big clunky geriatric thing. This was made out of wood with a reddish cast. There were ornate flowers carved into the handle. I thought it might be cherry.
“Wow. Where did you get it?”
“Friend of Preacher’s carves them. He brought it by.”
“Oh. Thank him for me,” I murmured. I hadn’t met Preacher, but I’d heard a lot about him from the girls. He had an eye for the ladies to the point that he was a flat-out dog, and an older dog to boot. But Michelle said he was so handsome and suave that he got away with it.
Cassandra had called him a silver fox, making Kelly giggle and nod in agreement.
He might be an old dog and a rascal, but he’d gone out of his way to do something nice for a girl he’d never met. Getting me the cane, well, that was just pure kindness.
“You’ll meet him soon enough,” Shane said with a meaningful look. I frowned in confusion.
“Okay.”
He grinned then, looking like a naughty schoolboy who’d been given a reprieve. He was still grinning after the slow trek up the stairs. I was a little winded.
His smile faded as he noticed that I was out of breath.
“You okay?”
I nodded.
“I guess I’m a little weaker than I thought.”
“You are the strongest person I know.” He opened the door and turned on the light, fiddling with something on the wall. He helped me to sit on the couch and then ran through the house, checking doors and windows.
“Is that necessary? The girls said he was . . .”
Shane stared at me from the entry to the hallway where the bedrooms were.
“He’s alive. But he can’t ever hurt you again. I hope that’s okay.”
“That he’s alive?”
“Yes. I wanted to kill him, but I thought . . .”
“What, Shane?”
“I thought it would change me. And I didn’t want to change from the man you love.”
I blushed and nodded.
“I would never ask you to do something like that. To kill . . .”
“I hurt him. Real bad. He won’t hurt anyone ever again.”
I had to admit it. I might not want Shane to commit murder, but I was relieved that the guy was out of commission.