Allister, J. Rose - Displaced Cowboys [Lone Wolves of Shay Falls 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by J. Rose Allister Page B

squirmin’ and moanin’ like that, I’ll take you right here, hard, just like this.”
    “So?” The way her body was pulsing, she wouldn’t stop him if he did. Her reply was a shuddered whisper, barely audible over the flow of water. “The shower was your idea, remember?”
    He growled. “Not to take advantage of a freezin’ woman. You stayed in that cold bathwater too long.”
    “I only drifted off for a few minutes.”
    “Darlin’, I heard you runnin’ this bath two hours ago. Had no idea you’d still be in it when I knocked to see if you were okay.”
    His body was so warm, so comforting. She tried to register what he was saying, but keeping upright was getting harder.
    “I’m sorry,” he went on. “I should have busted in here sooner. I just figured you wanted privacy after everythin’ that happened. If I’d have known you were practically drowning…shit. This is all my fault.”
    She pushed away from him and nearly stumbled, but held up a hand when he made a move to save her. “No, it’s not.”
    Shaking her head to clear it did little good, but with her standing away from him while water fell over his torso, she was aware of his eyes moving all over her. She automatically shielded her breasts with one arm and her mound with the other hand, and waves of self-consciousness washed over her at the scrutiny of his gaze. She saw all the notable places his eyes lingered, and none of them were the sleek, seductive curves a man should be drawn to while looking at a woman’s body. Instead, his attention was drawn to the relief map detailing the car accident that had stolen part of her life.
    He paused at her hip, where the surgical scar traced a puckered trail. Another pause at her thigh, and the jagged, thick line that slashed down and spoiled the front of it. Next, he toured down to her opposite knee, which was dimpled and pockmarked with puncture scars. Finally, his seeking eyes skimmed right up past the ripe swells of her breasts to the perfectly round, ridged circle of scar tissue in the hollow of her throat. She normally hid it behind scarves and turtlenecks.
    Her thoughts began to muddy again, whirling around until she had to work to grab onto the right words to think in a complete sentence. Damn. Maybe she should have shoved him against the shower wall and let him fuck her senseless when she’d had the chance. Now, he’d seen too much.
    She couldn’t help but check him out, too, to see for herself that her scars would turn him off. Best to get that pain over with fast, like tearing off a bandage. Her gaze dropped straight between his legs, fully aware that his erection would be extinguished now that he’d seen how ugly she was. She blinked in shock when she saw he was as long and stiff as ever. When her gaze bounced back up to his eyes, they were golden and clouded with passion. How could he still be turned on?
    Then again, Nash hadn’t lost his stiffy when Connor was beating him with a belt. Hell, if anything, it seemed to arouse him even more. Was that it? Did Connor get off on pain, too? Maybe it was the thought of her suffering, not her body, which held his dick at attention right now.
    Her eyes narrowed.
    “You were hurt,” Connor said.
    Was he digging for gory details so he could feed his sick pain fantasies?
    She pursed her lips and sagged against the shower wall. “It happens.”
    “What happens?” He reached out to slick back a strand of her hair that was plastered along the front of her face. She flinched back. “What happened to you, Terra?”
    The tenderness of his gesture and words almost made her believe that his concern was genuine. “Nothing.”
    “Those scars ain’t nothin’.”
    “I don’t want to talk about that.” The exact words she’d said to her parents once she’d been able to speak again.
    Shit. Her parents.
    “I have to go,” she said, grabbing the sole towel left in the bathroom and trying to step out of the tub.
    Connor was beside her in a flash,