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When Layla cried out, a powerful orgasm ripped through me and I exploded, ramming myself into her core until I couldn’t thrust any more.
I curled my arms around her body, pulling her back to my chest, and glided my hands over her wet flesh.
She rested her hands over mine. “I love you.”
I kissed her neck. “I love you too.”
Layla turned around and peered at me with so much love in her eyes I just about melted.
“Now,” she said, placing her hand on my chest, “would you like me to wash your back?”
I cringed, but at the same time, my scars were like an elephant in the room. For us to be a couple who shared everything and held no secrets, I needed to let her look at my body.
“Hunter, your scars aren’t your enemy.”
I frowned at her.
“Your scars prove that you’re a survivor. You lived through hell, and you’re still a strong, brave, amazing man. They only define you if you let them.”
“Huh, I thought you were a botanist, not a therapist.”
She giggled. “I can be whatever you want me to be. But for now, I’m your nurse. Turn around.”
Inhaling a deep breath, I turned my back to her, and as the shower pounded into my chest, Layla glided her warm hands over my back. She planted kisses over the jagged raised ribbons that threaded from my shoulder to my right butt cheek.
“Do they hurt?” she asked.
“Not at the moment.”
“But they do sometimes,” she said. “I see it in your eyes.”
“Layla, you’re ruining my sponge bath.”
She smacked my butt. “I’ll give you sponge bath, mister.”
“Yes, please.” I turned off the taps, scooped her into my arms and dripping wet, I carried her to my bed.
We made love again, slow and fucking amazing. Our bodies moved in perfect harmony, each caress and kiss fueling the passion we shared. But this wasn't just sex. This was a true connection, one that came from the depths of my soul.
I have never felt so alive in my life.
Afterward, Layla dressed in a pair of my sweatpants and T-shirt. Holy hell, she looked hot and if it wasn’t for my grumbling stomach, I would have stripped those clothes off her and made love to her again.
We headed out to the back deck with my stunning views over the Yellowstone mountains, and as I cooked our steaks on the barbeque, Layla played with Luna.
They seemed to forge an instant bond. Luna had been like that with me too. Maybe she’d sensed that I was scarred like her, and that was why she trusted me from the moment I took her from the bastard who owned her before me.
“How old is she?” Layla scratched behind Luna’s ear.
“Not sure. The vet said she’s about eight.” I flipped over the steaks. “Looks like you've made a new friend.”
“She’s adorable. I’ve never had a dog before.” Layla sighed and an intense sadness washed over her.
“What’s wrong?”
Uncertainty flickered in her eyes as she scooped Luna onto her lap and looked across at Yellowstone mountains where the sunset cast a warm glow over the landscape.
“I was just wondering what the hell I’m going to do with myself now. I don’t have a home. Or a car. Or a career.”