As if he sensed her pulling away emotionally, Clay squeezed her tightly and kissed her temple but didn’t try to reestablish greater intimacy by kissing her lips. His understanding made the pain in her chest worse. “I’m right here if you change your mind. You need me to set my alarm?”
“No. I’ll wake up.” Lily rarely slept through the night and was used to getting up before the sun had risen.
Chapter Eleven
Clay stretched as he woke up, instantly aware of the warm, curvy body snuggled next to him. He smiled as he took in the sight the early-morning light revealed. Her beautiful face was relaxed, and it was obvious that despite her usual habit of rising early that she was still deep asleep. That was a testimony to how exhausted she’d been
One arm was flung over her head, the hand curled around her pillow, and the other was out at her side. Even her delicate hands were beautiful in sleep. He resisted the urge to caress her full, rose-tipped breasts, which he’d enjoyed making love to so much the night before. The nipples were still pink tinged from his enjoyment and puckered in the cool morning air.
He couldn’t conceive why, why she didn’t want the lights on when they’d made love. Her body was his perfect ideal. Healthy, curvy, and so lush he wanted to nuzzle and kiss every inch of her skin. His hand itched to run his palm down her silky belly to the swell of her hip.
Carefully, like a naughty little boy reaching his hand into the cookie jar, Clay lifted the sheet away from where it lay just below her belly button. He loved the adorable little dip of her navel and wanted to kiss it, but then his blood ran cold as he took in the stark reality of the reason she’d wanted to hide her nudity from him.
He fisted the sheet silently, gritting his teeth as he got a clear view of just how extraordinarily sadistic and astoundingly cruel her ex-husband had been. He stared until the blood pounded in his ears.
The tattoo was the full width of her mound, started just above her hairline and extended upward about four inches. The black line work image was a grossly engorged woman’s genitalia with cum leaking from it. In bold, heavy lettering surrounding the image were the words “JT’s Fat Li’l Snatch.”
The worst part was that the tattoo was a mirror image. He’d had to look at it for few seconds before he’d deciphered it because of the contracted use of Lily’s name, probably her ex-husband’s idea of a clever play on words. JT had wanted Lily to see it and understand it every single time she looked in the damned mirror.
Knowing he needed to get out of the bed before he disturbed her sleep with his reaction, he carefully tucked the sheet and blanket over her and slipped from the room, grabbing sweats and a T-shirt on the way out.
He wanted to get in his truck, drive to Durst, and beat the life from that evil son of a bitch. Twelve years she’d spent with him. Twelve years…of that.
His perspective on her recovery shifted as he saw her accomplishments in a whole new light. The fact she could smile or interact with anyone, take charge of her future the way she had, make changes in her life…He felt beneath her. She took overcoming the odds to a whole new level.
He started the coffee and then the shower. While standing under the hot spray, he bit his lip until he tasted blood to keep from roaring in fury at what JT had done to her.
The realization dawned on him that she would be utterly devastated if she knew he’d seen the tattoo. She’d been very insistent about the lights being off, and it occurred to him that the tattoo could be the reason she’d backpedaled the night before. The intimacy had been palpable between them, and looking back he could almost pinpoint the moment she’d remembered the mark, retreating and making excuses for what had happened.
As much as it killed him, he wouldn’t make an issue of it if she backed away from him. He’d bide his time. He knew the attraction wasn’t one-sided and that she might have plans to remedy that mark. Mark. That was what JT had goaded him about in the hospital hallway and the reason she’d looked so pale when he’d returned to the room afterward. She’d probably been afraid—terrified of him finding out about it. He thought of all the times he’d called her “Lil” and wondered if it secretly bothered her. It angered him that her ex had probably ruined the nickname that he’d used for her since childhood.
He shut off the water and vowed to bite the bullet until she was ready to move forward with the relationship. After toweling dry, he dressed then padded barefoot to the kitchen and made breakfast. He was reading the local paper, all six pages of it, and was on his second cup of coffee when his Sleeping Beauty finally woke with a loud gasp and whimper.