Beautiful Scars

by Shiloh Walker

  She laughed. “Well, the whole story might piss you off. You really want to hear?”

  “Yes.”

  The ruby on her ring glinted at him as she pushed a hand through her hair. “It’s how Tim and I ended up…discovering our compatibilities. I think he knew I was into rough stuff, or was figuring it out. But we were at a party. I’d gone outside for some air. Somebody was smoking pot and I couldn’t stand the smell of it. While I was outside, I heard…interesting noises.” She slid him a sly look and then shrugged. “I followed. Saw a couple of people from the party having a very fun time indeed. And me, being the pervert that I am, stood there, enthralled. Tim came up behind and I was…”

  She stroked a hand across her belly, eased it lower. “Very turned on. He figured it out. He didn’t say anything but on our next date, he took me to a club.”

  “A club…” Shit. “Blue’s,” he said quietly.

  She slanted a look at him. “Yeah. How come I’m not surprised you know about that place?”

  “You…” He blew out a breath, told himself he wasn’t going to be stupid with this. Okay, so Chaili had been going to the same fucking sex club he used. He’d seen Tim around there in the years since Chaili’s divorce, but…okay. Dots connected.

  “You’ve been to Blue’s,” he said slowly.

  “Yeah. Seeing as how you already know it’s a sex club that caters to the kinky crowd, I don’t need to explain. I…uh…well, I didn’t figure that out until we were already inside. He paid for access and took me to the voyeur rooms. Asked me if I liked what I saw…and then he yanked my skirt up.”

  Jealousy ripped through him as she bluntly said, “It was the best sex we’d ever had.”

  “So you like watching.”

  Chaili shrugged. “Sometimes. It was a thing with him. We’d been sleeping together and it wasn’t bad. Just wasn’t…amazing. But after that night, it was better. We were good for a while. We got married. Then he started pushing more. Seemed to think the harder he pushed the better things would get. It didn’t. Then…” She reached up, touched her chest.

  Although he couldn’t see it, he knew she was tracing the lines of her tattoo. “Then you found out about the cancer.”

  “You know, your sister is the entire reason I found the damn lump,” she said quietly, staring straight ahead, looking at the windshield like it held the answer to life itself. “She’d just had a friend diagnosed…young, like me. I was annoyed with her, because she was constantly yapping about how young women can get cancer too. Breast cancer hits twelve percent of us. It gets twelve percent of us, you know that? But it only gets the older women—I was safe until I turned forty. That’s what I thought. She said something over lunch…do you do those exams, Chaili? I told her no. She kept yammering at me. I thought I was safe,” she whispered again. “But I wasn’t. I told her I’d do the stupid thing if she’d leave me alone.”

  She licked her lips and lowered her hands, twisted them in her laps. “I went home to get to work on somebody’s project. It was actually a website for a local young survivor’s group. Fitting, huh? I was putting up a few pictures and suddenly, I just got up, went into the bathroom and took off my shirt. My bra. And I felt it. It was so small, didn’t seem like it should be a big deal.”

  She was crying now, silent tears rolling out of her pretty eyes. “I even asked Tim what he thought, but he didn’t even want to mess with it. It kind of freaked him out. Grossed him out too, if you want the truth. I made an appointment…had to do the mammogram and everything. And all the while, I kept telling myself it wasn’t anything to worry about.”

  Leaning across the console, he hooked his arm around her neck, hugging her to him. “Chaili, fuck. I didn’t mean to bring this up.”

  She laughed. “You didn’t. I did. I didn’t have to go there, it just sorta…I dunno. I think I’m more screwed up over some of this than I thought.”

  As she turned her face into his neck and breathed him in, he closed his eyes. Don’t let me screw this up. That was all he wanted. Just that. Well, that and her. He was starting to think he wanted her forever, and he had to be careful not to mess this up.

  Stroking a hand up her back, he cupped her nape, pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Come on. Let’s go inside, have a glass of wine.”

  “No. I shouldn’t. I try not to drink much…it’s not good for me.” She lifted her head to smile at him, pressed her brow to his. “Besides, we’re supposed to have that all-important talk, remember? So you can fuck me as soon as we’re out of the car.”

  He closed his eyes. Stroked her back. “I think I need the wine. Or a beer. Or a bottle of bourbon,” he muttered, rubbing his knuckles up and down her spine. She gutted him. Laid him low. The hell she’d gone through…and he’d never known.

  He stood in the kitchen, head bowed, an amber bottle in one hand, the other rubbing the back of his neck. She should have kept her mouth shut, Chaili thought morosely. “You want to do dinner another night?” she asked softly.

  “No. I want to turn back time and wring your neck for not telling me this three years ago,” he said bluntly, lifting his head and shooting her a dark look. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long drink, then set it on the counter with a heavy thunk. “But that’s not anything we can change, right? And if I’d been around more…”

  “Why weren’t you?” The second she asked, she wished she could yank the argument back. “Never mind. That’s none of my business—”

  “Lily. My old manager.” He shrugged, a jerky, uneasy motion that said he was a hell of a lot more uncomfortable talking about this than his tone let on. “Her. Another ex-girlfriend before that. Seemed like any time I was here for longer than a few weeks, I got in trouble so I decided I wouldn’t mess with it. It wasn’t just here, though. It was any time I tried to settle in, so I just stopped trying to settle in. And now I’m kicking my ass for doing it. But shit, I was doing that before now. I missed my sister, I missed you, missed my friends…”

  I missed you… Those words hit her. Hard and fast, like he’d punched her. But there was no pain. Just the shock. The surprise.

  And it must have shown on her face, because he’d stopped talking and was staring at her. Frustrated too.

  Chaili blinked, looking away from him. Now this was just perfect. She’d gone and gotten all emotional. Wasn’t that just lovely?

  “Chaili,” he rasped, the growl of his voice stroking over her skin. “Now what did I do?”

  “Nothing.” She licked her lips and shrugged, feeling like a fool. “You just said you’d missed me, okay? You…I’ve missed you too.”

  There was a pause. Then she heard the soft scuff of his shoes over the tile as he crossed the floor to her. From the corner of her eye, she glanced at him and her breath hitched in her chest. “Did you now?” he murmured, caging her in, one arm on either side of her body.

  “Yes.” She turned her head to face him, shivering as he rubbed his stubbled cheek against her. Trying to lighten the moment, she said teasingly, “How could I not? After all, I never get to hear you sing anymore.”

  A grin crooked the corners of his mouth upward. “So it’s all about the singing, huh?”

  “Nah. Well.” She pursed her lips and added, “Maybe a little. You do bad things to me when you sing, Marc.”

  “Hmm. Maybe I’ll do more singing for you…just you.” He leaned in and nipped her ear. “We need to have that talk, though, baby girl. Why don’t we do it while I finish up dinner?”

  “Why don’t we do it now…and have dinner later?” She stared at him and stroked a hand down his chest, over the flat plane of his belly. It made her smile inwardly as she felt the muscles jump, then bunch under her hand. But before she got to his belt buckle, he caught her wrist.

  “Talk, Chaili. Dinner. Then bed,” he said gruffly. Thick black lashes shielded the gold of his eyes and then he looked at her, his brow pressed to hers. “I need a few minutes to level out, baby. Okay?”

  A few minutes. A few
hours. A few years.

  He’d make do with the time he had between now and the end of the meal, but he had to get himself under control and he had to do it fast. Pressing a quick kiss to her lips, he pulled away and headed over to the fridge where the lasagna was waiting. “Everything’s mostly done—just have to cook the lasagna and while that’s going, we can do a salad, get the bread in the oven,” he told her. “You sure you don’t want some wine?”

  She made a face at him. “I’d rather have sex, but you won’t give me that.” Sighing, she settled on a stool at the center island and crossed her legs, reminding him she was deliciously naked under that sexy skirt of hers. “I don’t drink much. I can’t. Well, theoretically, I shouldn’t. I’m genetically predisposed to cancer. Drinking too much is tempting fate. So I don’t.”

  Genetically— “What the fuck does that mean?” he asked hoarsely, dropping the glass pan of lasagna down on the counter before he hurled it across the kitchen.

  Silence reigned.

  Turning around, he stared at her. “What the hell does genetically predisposed mean?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Watch it, Marc,” she warned quietly. “I don’t much care to have people yelling at me unless I did something to warrant it. And guess what? I didn’t.”

  “I can’t help it,” he bit off. “Would you just fucking answer me? What does that mean?” Was he going to lose her right when he’d just found her? Is that what she was saying?

  Long, tense moments ticked by before she finally looked away. “My genes are a little screwy. It’s complicated, and if you want a better explanation, you’d be better off asking my doctor. But I was born with genes that make me a higher risk for breast cancer—which we didn’t know about until they found it. Drinking a lot of alcohol can increase the risk. So I keep it to a glass of wine every once in a while.”

  “Will it come back?”

  She glanced down, then shrugged and smiled. “There’s not much for it to come back to. It’s not likely. But cancer is an ugly, brutal bitch. We never know when she’ll come back to give you a nice little sucker punch. That’s why I don’t tempt fate.”

  He sucked in a breath, blew it back out. A brutal, ugly bitch. Damn it. That was wording it mildly. Okay. He was trying to level out. Although it was damn hard, considering he kept getting one hit after another. It was like every time he thought he’d heard the hardest thing, seen the hardest thing, accepted the roughest thing, he was given another slap that sent him spinning, careening out of control.

  Grabbing the lasagna pan, he went over to the stove and let it drop down on it with a clatter as he turned the oven on.

  “You keep banging that thing around, we won’t be eating it. The pan’s going to break,” Chaili said from behind him.

  “Nah. I bought stuff that’s supposed to be pretty resistant,” he said, striving for some light, easy ground.

  “Resistant to you slamming them around? Designed with Marc in mind?”

  He smiled, but it was half-hearted at best.

  Turning around, leaning against the counter, he stared at her. “I’m having a hard time finding level ground here, just so you know. I’m probably going to hit my asshole level at some point soon tonight,” he warned her.

  She shrugged, toying with the fringe on her skirt. “You probably weren’t expecting such a mess when you decided you wanted to…hell. What are we doing here, Marc?” The thick strands of her hair fell into her eyes and she brushed them back impatiently as she studied him. “What is this? Are you just looking for somebody to keep you company while you’re on a break? Is…”

  Her voice trailed off and she looked away.

  But he saw the way her shoulders rose, fell, erratic, in time with the harsh sounds of her breathing before she steadied it out.

  “You’re asking me questions I don’t have answers for,” he said quietly. He pushed off the counter and moved to stand in front of her. Cupping her cheek in his hand, he stared down at her. “Relationships and me have about as much luck as a junkie trying to quit cold turkey. But then again, I haven’t ever met a single woman who made me want any sort of real relationship.” He dragged his thumb over her lower lip, watched as her pupils flared. “Until you. You drive me crazy in so many ways.”

  The oven beeped and he sighed, turned away and headed over to the oven, put the lasagna in.

  “So.”

  He decided he’d stay just where he was for now. It was safer. “So.”

  They stared at each other and finally, Chaili slid off the stool and went over to the fridge, tugged it open, studied the contests before pulling out a can of Diet Coke. “Is that what we’re doing, Marc? Going to try and have a relationship?”

  “I thought we already were.” He slid a hand into his pocket, rubbed a finger over the picture he had tucked in there. All those years he’d spent wasted on women who’d left him empty and the one he needed was right there. Right here. “Is that what you want?”

  “Well…” She slanted a look at him, a wicked smile curving her lips. “I guess we can do a relationship. The sex is pretty fucking awesome.”

  Marc pulled the picture out, tapped his finger with it. Wondered maybe if he should try to press. She had a habit of doing that, he noticed. He’d try to push for deeper things, a deeper connection and she’d make it all light and easy.

  Nothing he felt about her was light and easy.

  But if she needed to keep it that way for now, that was fine. He glanced down at the picture and then slipped it back in his pocket. “I’m here to please you,” he murmured. “And speaking of which…” He checked the timer.

  Plenty of time.

  “About that talk.”

  Chaili’s heart stuttered in her chest as he caught her wrist and led her out of the kitchen. They went into the living room, but instead of stopping at the couch, he led her over to the upright Steinway he had against one wall.

  “What, do I get one of those private concerts now?”

  He just smiled and sat down, resting his hands on the keys. “You said you like to watch…is this a regular thing for you?”

  Chaili groaned, blood creeping up her neck to turn her cheeks hot. “Yeah, sure. It’s regular. I’ve got weekly dates at the local sex club just so I can watch people screw.”

  “I’m asking serious questions,” he said quietly. “Serious answers would be nice.”

  A soft, easy piece started to fill the room and she sighed as she settled down next to him. If only she had something to do with her hands while he played. “No. It’s not a regular thing. Hell, I don’t have a regular thing, okay? It’s not like I can only climax if you’re giving me orders or holding me down or spanking me. It’s just something…” She shrugged. “Hell, it’s not even a thing I’m into anymore.” Twisting the ring she wore around on her finger, she stared off into the distance. “I’m not the person I used to be. The things I used to think about, want…they’ve changed. I haven’t thought about that in years.”

  “So it’s not anything you need anymore?”

  She closed her eyes and rested her head in her hands.

  “It’s not a hard question,” he murmured.

  Wasn’t it? “Hell, Marc. I never needed it. It was just…a thing. Yeah, I liked it, but I didn’t need it. The other stuff…” She licked her lips. “I think it would depend. Tim started trying to do the hardcore dom stuff. He’d bark out orders during sex and I loved that, loved being spanked and tied up. I’m inclined to submit during sex. That’s just me. But he tried to take more than I wanted to give…wanted me to call him Master, and he’d tried to do the dom shit all the time…”

  Marc gave a derisive snort. “He’s been watching too many bad movies or reading too many bad books. If he’s a real dominant, he’ll take his cues from what his woman needs.” He slid her a look. “I don’t want to be called anything but my name.”

  “So I can’t call you baby? Sweetheart?” She leaned in and pressed her lips to his arm, whispered, “Sugar…lover…�
�

  He laughed. “That’s not so much a problem. But I don’t want to hear Master or any of that.”

  “Not your thing?”

  Marc shrugged. “Not so much. I like what I like, but that doesn’t mean I want to be anybody’s master.” He glanced at her, his hands still moving over the keys. “How deep did you go with it?”

  “Tim wanted to go pretty damn deep.” She shrugged. “He couldn’t ever get me involved as much as he wanted, though. And with that kind of thing, it’s got to be mutual. He wanted a devoted slave, and I’m not ever going to be that. I’ll never call a man Master. He was getting seriously into it too. Was trying to talk me into doing contracts and shit, said we should have done a collaring ceremony instead of getting married.” She paused and reached for his beer, lifted it to her lips. “Son of a bitch.”

  Marc laughed. “I guess you don’t want to wear a collar.”

  “No.” She thunked the bottle down on the seat and got up. “I’ve got a kinky streak and it’s pretty damn wide. He started to yap about how he just needed to take a firmer hand with me. That if we’d just establish some ground rules, things would become more…natural. I was testing my limits and I just needed a master who understood me and that once I was taken in hand…” She curled her lip. “I told him the day he tried to take me in hand was the day I’d break his hands.”

  Tim had thought she was joking. She hadn’t been. She’d play the punishment game, and damn well any other game…on her terms. Sighing, she crossed her arms over her chest and looked back at him. “If you’re that far into the lifestyle, we probably need to call it quits here, Marc. I play at it. But I won’t ever do more than dance around the edges of it and I’ll admit that. I don’t want to live it and heaven help the man who thinks I’ll address him as Master just because I prefer to get topped during sex.”

  “That happened?”

  “Shit, what is this, twenty questions?” Scooping her hair out of her face, she shrugged. “Yes. We went to the club and Tim made the mistake of introducing me as his slave. His first mistake. Because I never agreed to be anybody’s slave. A few of the guys he knew seemed to think that meant I’d call them Master. I informed them otherwise. I think…” She paused, remembering back to the way a few of them had looked at Tim. “I think some realized he was trying to take things in a direction I didn’t like. One guy even suggested I have a talk with my husband, make sure we had clear-cut rules. We never got around to it. We had a fabulous fight that night. A few days later, I found the lump. And that’s all she wrote.”