She turned her face so that her lips brushed over his palm. She cupped her hand over his and kissed the rough skin. Then she trailed her hand up his arm, crossing over the scars that marred the once smooth flesh.
She touched every one and glanced up at him to see his reaction. He looked sick, like he wanted to pull away from her. She could tell he didn’t want her touching him, drawing attention to the scars that crisscrossed his body. How many more were there that she hadn’t yet seen?
“You had already endured more than any human should ever endure,” she said softly. “You needed time to heal. To go home and be with your family again. You needed to learn to live again, to want to live. I couldn’t ask you to help me when you needed so much more than I did.”
He flinched when she put her fingers to the scar on the side of his neck. He tried to turn away, but she levered herself up and cupped her hand over the puckered flesh.
“Don’t hide from me, Nathan. Don’t hide your scars from me. I more than anyone know how you received them. They aren’t ugly. They’re beautiful. Honorable. Signs of courage and of unflagging determination.”
He caught her hand and slid it down his neck to his shoulder before holding it there firmly in place. Then he leaned until his forehead touched hers and their lips were tantalizingly close.
“How is it possible that you’re more beautiful in person than you were as an angel in my mind when I was in that hell. I didn’t think it was possible and yet here you are, so fucking exquisite that I can’t even talk around the damn knot in my throat.”
He pulled the towel all the way from her body and then laid her gently back on the bed. He touched every bruise and then, to her shock, he put his mouth to one. Then another. He pressed gentle kisses to every hurt, to every ache.
Chill bumps raced across her skin, puckering her nipples into tight points. Her heart constricted as he moved meticulously down her body, lavishing sweet loving attention on her wounds.
It was a delicious mixture of arousal and emotional fulfillment. It wasn’t overtly sexual, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t achingly aware of his every touch.
She’d never felt so cared for in her life.
“Beautiful. So beautiful,” he whispered. “Mine.”
She shivered at the quiet vow. His. Yes, she was his. He was hers. That decision had been made the moment she’d first heard his call.
When he got to the cut on her thigh, he pulled back and hauled the first aid kit from the floor onto the bed. With a touch so light she barely felt it, he cleaned and dressed the wound. After he finished taping the bandage, he lifted her just enough to lay her on the pillows and then he pulled the blankets to cover her naked body.
He bent down and kissed her forehead. “Get some sleep, Shea. You’re exhausted and you’re going to need your strength.”
“Where are you going?” she asked fearfully.
He kissed her again. “I’m not leaving you. I’ll be back. I just need to take care of a few things. We’ll both get some rest and we’ll travel tonight when the chances of you being spotted are fewer.”
CHAPTER 17
NATHAN paced the confines of the motel room, occasionally glancing at the bed where Shea slept. He was about to crawl out of his skin. She lay still, curled into a ball as if she were trying to protect herself even in sleep.
That was his job now. She was no longer going to go it alone. It pissed him off that she’d been alone for as long as she had.
He had to think. Shea feared discovery above all else, and she’d absolutely be against him calling in his family. But how could he not? He had no idea what he was facing, and his priority was keeping her safe no matter how he had to do it.
The logical thing to do would be to call his brothers for help. They couldn’t very well think him crazy now if he produced a real live woman.
The irrational part of him didn’t want to share Shea with anyone. He wanted her with him. He needed her. He didn’t want to have to deal with intrusions, and his brothers would most certainly be intrusive.
But he couldn’t do this alone. If it were just him in danger, he’d face it head on and kick some ass. But he didn’t want Shea exposed or hurt in any way. She’d suffered enough, and it was high time someone took care of her like she seemed to take care of the world around her.
He checked all his weapons, laid a knife on the nightstand beside his Glock. Then he propped a chair underneath the doorknob. Afterward he dragged the small table over to the window so that no one would have clear entry into the room.
Shea was probably starving. She hadn’t eaten much before when he’d grabbed a sandwich from a convenience store deli. She’d picked at it while they drove. When she woke, he’d make sure she ate better. Then they’d talk about their next move and his desire to call in his brothers. Hell, he’d just put her on the jet and fly back home. How better to protect her than to have her right in the middle of all the Kellys?
He rubbed his face. But he couldn’t do that to his family. He couldn’t just open them up to an unknown enemy. Nor could he expose Shea and her abilities to so many others, even if he trusted them more than anyone else.
He’d call Sam. He’d know what to do. Just as soon as he talked it over with Shea. They needed help. She couldn’t dispute that.
He glanced toward her again, his vision fuzzing with fatigue. There was nothing else for him to do until she woke up, and if he didn’t get any sleep, he wasn’t going to be any good to her.
He dug into his bag for a clean pair of boxers and a T-shirt. Then after another look in her direction to make sure she was still sleeping, he turned his back to undress.
He quickly shed his clothing and pulled on the clean boxers. He picked up the new T-shirt to pull it on, when he heard a sound from the bed.
He jerked around, still holding the shirt to his chest to see Shea staring at him with stricken eyes. Her gaze was riveted to the scars that covered his body.
Shame crowded in that she’d see him, his ugliness, his marks of weakness.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice. “I didn’t think you were awake.”
She shook her head. When he started to retreat to the bathroom, she held up her hand. “No. Don’t go.”
He stood a moment, the shirt clenched tight in his fists. “I don’t want you to see.”
She sat up, holding the sheet to her breasts. “See what, Nathan? I’ve seen you at your worst. There’s nothing you can show me that will shock me.”
Her expression was so fierce, almost angry. He was rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do. Hit the bathroom? Hurry up and finish dressing? He felt exposed and he didn’t like it one bit.
“Come here, Nathan,” she said softly.
His brow furrowed.
“Please.”
He hesitated but then walked toward the bed. He still held the shirt to his chest when he eased onto the edge beside her.
She leaned forward and the sheet slipped down enough that he caught a glimpse of the plump swells of her breasts. The dark imprint of her nipple tantalized him from underneath the thin sheet.
She tugged gently at his T-shirt until he reluctantly allowed her to pull it away. Then to his surprise, she let the sheet fall from her chest as she got to her knees and edged toward him.
Heat flushed through his body, tightening his groin. He couldn’t quite breathe right. Nothing he did seemed to pull enough air into his lungs. Even bruised and fragile, she was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in his life. It took all his restraint not to pull her into his arms and make love to her.