Page 56 of His Own Heaven

“Not all of them,” she said, her hand tightening on her shoulder.

That one small gesture screamed volumes, and a kernel of understanding burst open in Toby’s mind. From what he’d seen so far, Lucy had a tendency to dress modestly in jeans and T-shirts or knee-length skirts and high-buttoned blouses. Not that she was opposed to flashing a little flesh—the plunging neckline of her blouse on Friday night was proof enough of that.

But even that sexy blouse had covered her shoulders and back, had hidden her other scars from prying eyes.

“The scars on your face,” he said, gently brushing the backs of his fingers over her cheek, “They’re your armour, aren’t they? You use them to keep people at bay until they either cut and run or earn your trust.”

Lucy nodded but said nothing, so he kept going.

“And this,”—he moved her hand from her shoulder and replaced it with his own—“and these,”—he slid his hand down her back—“they’re your soft underbelly. Your vulnerable spots. The bits of yourself you hide from everyone.”Everyone but me. Lucy had not only shown Toby those soft spots, she’d willingly rolled over and let him play with them, with her. All of her. “Why?”

Gnawing on one corner of her bottom lip, Lucy lowered her gaze again. “Like you said, the scars on my face and neck are like armour. People stare at me but social niceties dictate they keep their opinions to themselves. But for whatever reason, as soon as people see my other scars, those niceties fly out the window.” She raised her face again and fire burned in those whisky-coloured depths. Bitterness stained her voice. “Wow! What happened to you? How far down does it go? Can I see it? Can I touch it?” Her eyes filled with tears and her voice broke. “I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you let me film myself jerking off over it.”

Toby reeled backwards, his eyes so wide they watered with the effort. “What the fuck? Someone actually said that to you?”

Lucy nodded, the fire returning to her gaze. “My scars are like an iceberg. People stare at the bit on top but it’s the part lurking beneath the surface they all want to see. And that,”—she jabbed a finger at the dress on the floor—“let’s them. Somehow, wearing a strappy dress is more effective than painting a target on my tits. And people never fail to take aim.”

Moving to sit on the edge of the bed, Toby tugged Lucy into his lap. She’d revealed a lot of herself in the past few minutes, and as she sat stiffly against his thighs he realised it was his turn to share.

Because that was what people did, wasn’t it?

They shared parts of themselves, revealed their soft underbellies bit by bit until they were completely exposed. That was a relationship. Exposing every part of you to someone else and trusting them to take care of you. Trusting them to want you—love you—even after they’d seen the worst of you. Toby wanted that with Lucy.

He wanted her trust.

Fuck. He wanted hereverything. Wanted to behereverything.

Resting his forehead against her temple, he said, “I know what it’s like to be stared at.”

She scoffed, that one small sound loaded with more disbelief than she ever could have put into words. “People don’t whisper disgusting things about tall people. They don’t wonder out loud what you did wrong to be so horribly tall.”

Toby grimaced. “No, but they do wonder if you’re a degenerate like your father.”

Lucy pulled back and looked up at him, her brows pinched, forming a tiny crease above her nose. He wanted to reach out and smooth it away, didn’t want her to feel sorry for him, only to understand that he knew how it felt to be different. To be singled out. “Your father’s a degenerate?”

That made Toby laugh. “I suppose it depends on your definition of degenerate. Dad’s an artist, a painter. He has nine children to six different women, and for one reason or another he ended up raising all of us.”

Lucy blinked slowly, as if she were waiting for her brain to digest the information. “He raised all nine of you on his own?”

“We’re pretty well spaced out in age, so it wasn’t like he had nine toddlers all at once. And he had help. My eldest brother and his wife lived with us for a long time, and one or two close family friends would check on us, make sure we had everything we needed.”

“But…?” Lucy asked, one brow raised.

“But, when you grow up in a family like mine in a small town like Melville’s Cross, you stick out for a whole other reason.”

Her grip tightened on his arm. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Imagine being a seven-year-old kid,” he said, his gaze unfocussed as he recalled the memory more easily than he liked, “rocking up to the school gates and overhearing the other parents whispering to each other. ‘There goes another one of Bennett’s bastards’.”

“What horrible people!” Lucy gasped, her outrage making her nostrils flare. And in that moment it struck Toby with the force of an atom bomb what a fierce mother Lucy would be, how protective and loving. He almost laughed out loud at the unbidden thought, until his cock twitched in agreement.

He squeezed her thigh, in part to let her softness and the warmth of her body soothe the ache of the memory that never quite left him, but also in part to stop himself from settling his hand over her belly and imagining what it would look like if it was round with his child.What the fuck is wrong with me?He was becoming fanciful in his old age.

Shaking his head to clear the ridiculous thought, he focused on their conversation. “They never said it to our faces, but they never hid their dislike of us either.”

“But you were just kids. You didn’t have any say in who your parents were.”

“Exactly,” Toby said. “Just like you have no say in whether or not you’re scarred. It is what it is and it’s up to us to choose what we do with it. My siblings and I could have cowed to the other parents and their ignorance, but we didn’t. We held our heads high and refused to give them the satisfaction of knowing they’d hurt us. Just like you did the other night in the pub. I was ready to swoop in and save you but you never needed saving. You stood up for yourself and put that little shit in his place and it was a fucking privilege to watch.” He put Lucy on her feet and threaded his fingers through hers. “But you don’t have to do it alone anymore. Not if you don’t want to. I know you’re strong, I’ve seen it, but I’m here for you, baby. However you want me.”

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