Page 24 of Beautiful Scars: Unshakeable (The Beautiful Scars Duet #2)

Chapter Twenty

Levi

I wake inside a moment of pure perfection—Sunny's warm, naked body curled against my chest, her soft, messy hair tickling my chin.

For a heartbeat, I let myself sink completely into this bliss, this thing I've dreamt about for what feels like most of my life.

Her soft breath against my skin, the way she fits so perfectly in my arms like she was made to be there—it's everything I've wanted since the first day I laid eyes on her.

The weight of her against me, real and warm and mine, makes my chest tight with overwhelming emotion. This is what I thought I'd lost forever. What I was certain I'd never get back.

My heart clenches when she shifts in her sleep and winces slightly. Just like that, the perfect bubble bursts and doubt starts flooding in. What have we done? The bruises covering her body are barely faded, her fingers are still sore from what that bastard put her through.

Was it too much, too soon? The questions start piling up, each one heavier than the last, crushing the peace I'd just been feeling. Did we push her? Did she feel like she owed us?

That last thought makes me sick.

I look over Sunny's head at Zane, pressed against her back protectively even in sleep. His presence adds another layer to my spiraling thoughts. This morning felt right—perfect even—but now, with harsh afternoon light streaming through the windows, I'm questioning everything.

Can this—any of this—really work? The thought of sharing her twists something deep and possessive in my gut, even though I know I've got no right to feel territorial. Not after what I let happen to her. Not when Zane's proven that his loyalty and feelings for her run just as deep as mine.

But the jealousy sits there anyway—gnawing on the doubt at the back of my mind.

Sunny stirs against me, her eyes fluttering open, and I'm caught off guard by how at peace she looks. This is the most amount of hours she's slept in a row since she's been back.

"Good afternoon, Angel," I whisper, searching her face for any sign of regret. The need to know she's truly okay overwhelms everything else.

"Afternoon, handsome." Her tone is soft and warm like honey, and the way she says it makes my heart flutter in my chest.

Her fingers slide across my chest and her gaze drops lower. She freezes, her fingertips hovering and trembling slightly above the swirling letters decorating my skin. The breath catches in her throat.

"When did you get this?" she whispers.

I never thought I'd be answering that question like this.

"About a month after I thought I lost you.

" The words scrape past the ache lodged deep in my throat.

"I was so messed up back then, Angel. I didn't even want to live anymore.

I needed to hurt—needed to punish myself for what happened.

I thought that making myself remember every single day what my carelessness cost me would be some sort of penance. "

Sunny's breath catches audibly, and her fingertips press harder against the ink, as if she can't believe it's real. "Levi..."

I swallow hard, forcing the rest out because she deserves to know every piece of it.

"At first, being reminded of losing you every time I looked in the mirror was agony—exactly what I'd wanted.

But eventually..." I have to pause, gather myself.

"Eventually, it became the only thing that kept me sane.

It made me feel close to you, even though I knew—thought—you were gone forever.

It was proof that no matter what happened, you were a part of me Angel. Always have been."

Her eyes flood with tears she doesn't bother to hide, doesn't try to wipe away. Instead, she leans forward with infinite gentleness and presses her lips to each letter of her name, one by one. Every soft press of her mouth against my skin feels like absolution.

But I don't know if I deserve it. What if tomorrow she wakes up and realizes this was a mistake? What if the reality of what we've done, what we've become, hits her and she runs?

"You know," she murmurs, voice muffled against my chest, "I can hear you thinking from down here." She tilts her head up, giving me a look that's both sweet and serious. "Stop overthinking this, Levi."

But I can't stop. The weight of our past, of everything she's endured, weighs on me heavily. "Easier said than done. Are you okay? Really okay? Because we didn't have to—"

"I am so much better than fine, Levi. I promise you." She props herself up on an elbow, and I catch the small grimace she tries to hide.

"You're in pain." My voice comes out rougher than I intended.

Zane shifts behind her, instantly alert. I recognize the same protective concern in his eyes that's eating me alive. "Maybe we should've waited longer, Sunny. Given you more time—"

"No." Sunny sits up fully, clutching the sheet to her chest. "Both of you need to stop.

Right now." Her tone carries an edge. The same one she had in the kitchen that first morning I came to the house.

The one that says she's had enough. "You can't treat me like I'm sort of fragile, breakable thing.

Like I can't make my own decisions about what I want. "

"We just want to be sure—" Zane starts, but she cuts him off.

"Sure of what?" Fire blazes in her eyes. "You made me promise I'd speak up if it was too much or I wasn't ready, and you need to trust me with that. Trust my judgment. Trust that I know my own mind and body and what I can handle. Don't you dare try to take that away from me."

She's absolutely right.

Way to go, asshole.

"I'm fine," she continues, voice softening but still firm. "Better than fine. And I chose this. I chose both of you. And it was absolutely perfect until you two started trying to ruin it."

"Angel..." I reach for her face, but she catches my hand in both of hers.

"No. You listen to me Levi Reeves." Her fingers tighten around mine with surprising strength.

"I'm exactly where I want to be. With exactly who I want to be with.

So please, just let me have this moment—this happiness—without your guilt or whatever other bullshit is running through your head. Don't spoil this for me. For us."

I have no argument for that. None at all. When she turns the same determined look on Zane, I see identical surrender in his expression.

But then I catch Sunny's gaze bouncing between Zane and me, her brown eyes warm and satisfied, and a different kind of panic starts creeping in.

Shit.

It was one thing in the heat of the moment—this morning everything felt natural, inevitable. But now, I'm not entirely sure what the fuck I'm supposed to do with any of this.

Zane shifts his weight, and I find myself suddenly fascinated with a spot on the wall above his head. Him and I have fought side by side, killed together, been through hell and back—but watching him with Sunny, letting him see me with her—

Fuck.

Every time our eyes accidentally meet, we both do this ridiculous, awkward dance of looking anywhere else. We're acting like two kids who got caught with our hands in the cookie jar.

And, that's exactly how it feels.

I want to say something, break this weird tension that's crackling between us, but what the hell do you say to someone you consider your brother after spending a morning together like that? 'Thanks for helping me make our girl come'? 'Nice work back there. Good job buddy'?

There's no fucking playbook for this situation. Zane and I have always shot straight with each other, brutally honest, but right now it's obvious we're both seriously out of our depth.

The worst part is knowing Zane probably feels just as awkward as I do.

We're supposed to be these tough guys, leaders, but right now we're just two idiots trying to pretend we didn't just cross every invisible line that's ever existed between us.

That we didn't just turn our brotherhood into something else entirely—something deeper, maybe, but hell if I know what to call it or how to navigate it.

Sunny bites her lip, obviously trying not to laugh at our obvious mutual suffering.

She's thoroughly enjoying watching us squirm, and somehow that makes it both better and infinitely worse.

She knows exactly what she's done to us, how completely she's changed everything.

And damn if I don't love her even more for it, even while I'm sitting here feeling like I'm fifteen again and have no idea which way is up.

"You're both being absolutely ridiculous," Sunny murmurs, stretching in the sheets like a satisfied cat.

The movement draws both our attention despite our awkwardness, and for a moment I forget how to breathe. She's still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and now she's ours. Somehow, impossibly, she's ours.

I lean down, pressing my lips to her temple, breathing her in. "Can't help it, Angel. Overthinking is what I do best."

"You're perfect," Z whispers against her skin, and I feel the words as much as hear them.

The tension eases as we both focus on her, dropping soft kisses along her shoulders, her neck, her face. This is easy—when we're both simply loving her, worshipping her, and not thinking about what any of this means for us.

"You feel amazing," I breathe against her collarbone, letting my hand trace down her side, gliding over every curve.

"So beautiful," Zane adds, as his fingers ghost over her hip.

A loud, unmistakable growl from Sunny's stomach interrupts the moment.

"Maybe we should get some actual food in you," Zane suggests with a grin, pulling back slightly.

"Coffee first," I add, already missing her warmth as I start to move away from her. "Definitely coffee first."

Sunny pouts, but another demanding growl from her stomach makes her sigh in defeat. "Fine. But I need a shower first. I probably smell like..."

"Like us," I finish, unable to keep the possessive satisfaction out of my voice. "You smell like us, and I fucking love it."

She blushes beautifully at that, but doesn't disagree.

I stand, reaching for my jeans on the floor, hyperaware of Sunny's eyes following every move I make. When I glance back, she's not even trying to hide her appreciation, her gaze trailing over my body with open, hungry desire.

"See something you like, Angel?" I can't help teasing.

"Mmhmm," she hums, shifting to get a better view as Zane also starts getting dressed. "Two very nice somethings, actually."

The brazenness of her stare, the confidence in her voice, makes my blood run hot. This is not the same woman either of use crawled in bed and went to sleep with last night.

Zane chuckles as he pulls on his shirt, but I catch the way his hands shake slightly. "Careful, sweet girl. Keep looking at us like that and you might not make it to that shower."

"Is that a promise?" Her voice is pure sin, and I have to take a deep breath to keep from climbing right back into that bed.

I groan, forcing myself to focus on buttoning my jeans. "Shower. Coffee. Food. In that exact order, or we're all going to pass out."

"You're no fun," she sighs dramatically, but there's laughter dancing in her voice and it sounds so fucking good. It's been a while since I've heard it.

"Trust me, Angel," I say, finally managing to get fully dressed despite her distracting presence. "We're going to have plenty of time for fun. All the time in the world."

She sits up then, letting the sheet pool around her waist, completely comfortable in her nakedness. The sight nearly undoes every bit of resolve I've managed to scrape together. Beside me, I hear Zane's sharp intake of breath.

"I'm counting on it," she says, eyes dancing between us with wicked promise.

I exchange a quick look with Zane—the first real, direct one since we woke up. In that brief moment, we share perfect understanding. Whatever awkwardness exists between us, whatever complications we need to figure out, it's worth it. For her, for this, it's all worth it.

"Shower," Zane reminds her firmly, though I can hear the strain in his voice. "Now."

"So bossy," she teases, finally sliding out of bed with deliberate slowness, putting on a show that has both of us unable to look away.

When the bathroom door finally closes behind her, I let out a long, shaky breath. "She's going to be the death of us."

"Absolutely," Zane agrees, and his voice sounds as wrecked as I feel. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

For once, we're in complete agreement.