Avenged(16)

“The only thing I can think of to help you get comfortable so we can both sleep is putting some heat on that shoulder. All we have to work with is an old-fashioned heating bag that needs to be filled with hot water. Once this boils, you should be good to go.” He bent back down to add more wood to the fire and I had to literally bite my lips to hold in a moan when all the muscles and lines of his back flexed and bunched enticingly. There was something about how unquestionably strong he was, both in mind and body, that called to the broken parts of my heart. He was a man that might bend when he had to, but he would never break. There was something so appealing about that after everything I’d lost recently.

He was also the only person that had gone out of their way to take care of me in as long as I could remember. My entire life had been about taking care of my sister, and taking care of myself. There was never anyone to lean on or rely on…until this confusing and difficult stranger. I wanted to hate him for the way he wielded the truth like a blade, but I couldn’t because his care and concern made hating him impossible. The feelings he had churning under my skin were as out of place as he was in this cabin in the woods.

I heaved a sigh and lifted my hand to rub my gritty eyes. “I’m so sorry that I’m being a burden. I’m usually really good at taking care of myself.” At least I was, now that I was purposely avoiding the things I used to use to hurt myself.

There was a rustling sound then a volley of swear words that I assumed meant he’d splashed some of the hot water on himself as he was filling the rubbery hot water bottle. Moments later, the soothing heat was resting on my shoulder and some of the pulsing pain ebbed away. I blinked up at him as his fingertips touched my forehead. I held my breath as he moved a curl away from my face with the singularly gentlest touch I’d ever experienced in my life.

Those hands had committed crimes.

Those hands had blood on them.

Those hands had been used to hurt others.

Those hands were dirty in a way that would never wash clean.

I shouldn’t want them all over the rest of my body, but I did.

“The morning of your crash, I was looking at myself in the mirror. I was wondering for the umpteenth time why I didn’t die when by all accounts I should have. If the kid that sliced my throat had managed to get the blade a little more to the left, just a millimeter or two, I wouldn’t be here. He was so close to my jugular that everyone called it a miracle I made it.” He brushed his thumb over the arch in my eyebrow and the corners of his mouth lifted up in a grin. “It wasn’t a miracle; it was fate. The only reason I survived was so that I could be here to make sure you made it. I was never the one that earned the second chance. You were.” He moved away from where he was leaning over me, leaving me breathless and tingling from top to toe. “You lost a lot, Pop-Tart. The only reason I pulled through was to make sure you didn’t lose yourself as well.” His hands moved to the buckle on his leather belt and he lifted a raven-colored brow at me questioningly. “It’s hot as hell in here now with all the added fuel on the fire. I’m stripping down, so if you want to change your mind about sharing the bed, now is the time to speak up.”

No way was I going to complain about seeing the rest of him stripped down and touched by the light glow coming from the slats on the stove where the fire was indeed raging and popping furiously.

“It’s fine.” The words came out higher and breathier than I intended. “I’m exhausted and now that my shoulder isn’t hurting as bad, I’ll be asleep as soon as I close my eyes.”

He grunted in response and the next thing I knew, his jeans hit the floor and he was climbing in the bed next to me, wearing nothing more than a pair of sinfully tight boxer briefs. The rest of him was just as nice as his front and back. He was all long, lean lines and coiled strength that looked even better when it wasn’t covered up in clothing. He also had a nasty-looking scar that ran up the length of one of his legs, like he’d had to have reparative surgery at some point in the past…like someone had shattered his kneecap. His body was like a topographical map of violence and brutality. Raised marks and bumps indicating broken bones and long-healed injuries. Even his nose was slightly off center, the only real imperfection on his otherwise remarkable face. I didn’t understand how anyone forged out of so much ugliness could be so considerate and kind. Everything about him was out of place and so confusing.

“You said it was a kid that gave you that scar across your throat. It happened recently, didn’t it?” I should have been silent, chasing after sleep, but I couldn’t stop the curiosity about him and where he had come from. I wanted to know all there was to know about him. It was a very different feeling than I usually had when I found myself in bed with a stranger. In the past, all I wanted to do was forget. With Ben, I wanted to know everything because memories of him were all I was going to have once I got off this mountain and back home.