Page 74 of Scarred Souls

“It could end badly.” Yeah, I was already chickening out.

“Or it might not. If you become too uncomfortable, we’ll just stop. Simple.”

Was I actually considering letting her do this? The thought of Hope touching my scars sent conflicting emotions raging through me. Fear of hurting her, anxiety over the inevitable skin contact—which could spiral into a full-blown panic attack, something I absolutely didn’t want her to witness. But there was something else I hadn’t felt in a long time: desire. Because I really liked the idea of Hope running her hands over me without my phobia taking over.

We faced each other as our arms swirled through the water. The sun remained hidden behind gray clouds, but there wasn’t a breath of wind.

“Maybe we ought to Google how to do this first,” I said.

“I think we should just go with our gut. Do whatever works for you.”

My gaze slipped to the low neckline of Hope’s red bikini.

“Hey.” She snapped her fingers in front of my nose. “My eyes are up here.”

Those honey-gold irises were equally as stunning as her cleavage.

I pursed my lips. “You know, a distraction might work?”

She shook her head and laughed. “Let’s keep that up our sleeves. Stand up.”

I rose to my full height, the water now reaching just above my navel.

With her wet hair trailing down her back, Hope craned her neck to maintain eye contact. “Sweet Jesus. I keep forgetting how tall you are.”

There was no holding in my smirk. “Admit it. You like that, don’t you?”

“Stop gloating. Are you ready?”

“Almost. I have a suggestion.”

“I’m listening.”

“If I have my hands on you before you touch me, it might ground me. Remind me who I’m with and that you’re not a threat.” I placed my palms on the unmistakably feminine flare of Hope’s soft hips. “Is this okay?”

Her lips parted when I dug my fingers into her flesh a little. “It’s a compromise I can work with.”

“Okay. I’m ready.”

Hope’s eyes roamed my chest, and her brow pinched. “Will this hurt? Sometimes my scars tingle because the nerve endings didn’t heal properly.”

“I get that, too. But no. There won’t be any pain. It’ll just make me”—unhinged, enraged, overwhelmed—“uneasy.”

“What if I start by touching somewhere you’re not scarred?”

I glanced down at the raised lines along my arms and crisscrossing my torso. “That leaves you limited real estate.”

Hope pressed her lips together. “What about your neck? I’ll start there.”

My heart hammered inside my chest at a frantic pace, and my mouth turned dry. “Okay. Let’s give it a shot.”

26

HOPE

Slowly, I raised my hands toward the muscular cords of unmarred skin at Vaughn’s neck.

Before I made contact, he flinched as though bracing for a slap.

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