“You have to try, sweetheart, or watch your sister make the biggest mistake of her life tomorrow.”
“She may wind up doing that anyway, despite anything I have to say, and I don’t know if I can stand up there and pretend to be happy for her after I essentially tell her that her fiancé is a . . . a . . .”
“A prick?” he helpfully supplied.
“And more,” she said fervently. He smiled sympathetically and sat on the edge of the bed. He toyed with one of her feet through the covers as he weighed what he wanted to say to her.
“I can’t help you, Daisy, I wish I could. Whatever you do is ultimately up to you.”
“I know. Sorry for getting you mixed up in all the family drama. You were just here for the free food and drink,” she recalled wryly, and he chuckled.
“This is much more interesting. Now, I’ve already drawn a bubble bath if you’re interested in joining me.”
“For just a bath?” she asked with a pout, and he narrowed his eyes.
“No time for anything else, missy,” he said sternly. “So you behave. I have to meet the asshole and his buddies for golf.”
“You do? When did that happen?”
“Saw them on the beach this morning.”
“And you’re up for that?”
“Not really, but he was being such an arrogant douche, I figured it’ll be nice to take him down a peg or two.”
“Mason . . .”
“In an entirely sportsmanlike, nonconfrontational way, of course.”
She wasn’t sure she believed him, but she let it slide.
In the end, there was enough time for a very hot session in the huge tub, leaving more water on the floor than in the tub. Afterward, relaxed and very satisfied, they helped each other dry off.
“Tell me about this tattoo,” she invited, running her fingers over the branches of the gnarled bare tree on the right side of his torso. His nipples beaded, and he flattened a hand against hers to prevent her from stroking even more.
“The tree represents my years in the military. The letters and dates represent lost brothers and the dates they fell.”
There were so many initials, and a lot of them shared the same dates.
“It’s a beautiful gesture,” she whispered, and he shrugged.
“It was the least I could do.” His tone and body language told her that the subject was closed for now, and she kissed his chest just above the highest branch. He continued to towel her off before pausing.
“Jesus,” he suddenly swore, and Daisy, still contemplating that stark, poignant tattoo and what it represented, jumped at his vehemence.
“What?”
“You’re full of bruises.”
“I am?” She twisted around to get a look at herself in the mirror and saw the dark-blue and -purple bruises mostly on her butt and thighs. There were a few smudges on her arms as well.
“Why didn’t you tell me you bruised so easily?” He sounded horrified.
“Well, I had no idea that I did.”
“Does it hurt?” He touched one tentatively, his face tight with remorse.
“Not at all. And before you ask, no, you didn’t hurt me when we were having sex either. I didn’t even feel these when they happened. We were both carried away. I mean, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you have a few scratches down your back as well.”
“That’s nothing. It’s already an ugly, scarred mess; a few scratches won’t make a difference.” She gasped at that and poked a stern finger into his hard, naked chest.
“Your body is gorgeous, every delectable inch of it. And tonight you’re telling me what your other tattoos mean and we’re going to catalog all your smaller scars. Got it?”
“Don’t try to distract me. I’m not touching you again until after these fade.” His face grew stormier with each new bruise he found. He was seriously pissed off with himself for bruising her.
“You’re being silly.” She stepped out of his hold, taking the towel from him. “And just so you know, you have a bruise too. A huge one. On your neck.”
Mason turned to face the mirror, and sure enough, he had a massive hickey just above his collarbone.
“God, I look like a teenager,” he groused, and she smiled, looking so damned pleased with herself that he immediately didn’t mind the mark.
“I’ve never given anyone a hickey before.”
“And you’re never giving me another. One is your limit,” he warned, and she nodded, still looking smug. His eyes drifted back down to those ugly bruises marring her beautiful skin, and he felt like a savage for putting them there. He couldn’t recall ever marking anyone like that before, and he knew it wasn’t just because she had sensitive skin. He’d been seriously out of control with her. He needed to cool down, be gentler. And that was always his intention until he got his hands on her. Then all bets were off.