Her fingertips moved lightly over his skin. “No, it’s not.” In a butterfly touch, she brushed her lips to one spot, then another.

Rowdy felt each small kiss in his dick. In a gravelly rumble, he promised, “Before long, it’ll be healed up and forgotten.”

Silence dragged out as she touched him again, on his shoulder, lower on his back. “Like the rest of these?”

Tension wound through his spine, making him stiff all over.

Her tone far too sad, Avery said, “Now I know what the doctor meant.”

Shit. Scars. Moving away from her hands and that damn unnerving empathy, Rowdy stood and turned so all she saw was his chest.

And his boner beneath the boxers. He could handle her seeing that, but he couldn’t handle her seeing any vulnerability.

“You ready to turn in?” He pulled the blankets back farther and eased down to his side. He hated that he had to move so slowly, but even a wiggle of his toe was felt in his back.

“Yes.” Still on her knees, she drew in a deep breath. “I’m ready.” In a unique but innocent sort of torture, she stretched beyond him, her body over his as she turned out the lamp. She settled back in front of him, resting on one elbow.

Moonlight shone through the high windows, leaving her body outlined in a mellow glow, turning the fall of her hair into a muted fire.

Could a woman be more physically appealing?

“What would be most comfortable for you?” Before he could answer, Avery turned, giving him her back, then scooted closer. “Will this work?”

Hell, yeah. That worked just fine. He put an arm around her and snuggled her in, his hand open on her belly, his hips nestled up against her ass. “Perfect.”

“Rowdy.” He heard her smile when she chastised him. “You won’t be able to sleep with me this close.”

“Told you I’m an insomniac, so I’m used to not sleeping. But for once I won’t mind being awake.”

She hesitated before saying, “Okay, then,” and wiggled to get more comfortable.

Excruciating.

Laying a hand over his, she let out a long yawn and whispered, “Good night, Rowdy.”

It would be a long night, but just as well that he wouldn’t sleep. He didn’t want to waste a single second of having her like this, with him, in his apartment, in his bed and in his arms.

Maybe it was the turmoil of the day, the dredging up of old hurts and twisted memories, but damn it, he even considered having her in his life...for more than a one-night stand.

* * *

WHEN THE LIGHT went out, he decided to give up his vigil for the night. The big windows should have afforded a decent view, and despite himself, he’d anticipated playing voyeur. But the bed wasn’t positioned correctly, so while he could occasionally see a body move past, he hadn’t seen enough to make it worth the danger in the area.

He felt cheated, damn it.

Maybe once he had Avery back where she belonged, he’d think about the whole voyeur fetish again. For all his trouble, he deserved that—and more.

CHAPTER EIGHT

AVERY FELT THE drowsiness pull at her, but she didn’t quite tumble into slumber. Without even realizing it, she stroked her fingertips over the back of Rowdy’s hand that rested on her stomach. Fingers opened, he covered her from hip bone to hip bone.

Such a large man, so solid and strong, and so amazing.

What he’d done today, the compassion he’d felt for Marcus, the outrage he’d shown against abuse...

She closed her eyes, seeing again those awful scars on his back. A small burn, round like a cigarette. A square cut, like that from a belt buckle.

Outrage blurred her vision, made her eyes glisten and tried to close her throat. If she could, she’d find his parents and destroy them. Unfortunately, they’d escaped any real retribution by dying a quick death in a car wreck.

Angst squeezed her heart until she had to fight the urge to turn to Rowdy, to hold him close and cry for him since he would never cry for himself.

Little by little, she better understood him and how he ticked. Sex, as he’d said, was quick and easy comfort.

But, God, she wanted to be more than that to him. She wanted to somehow make his life better. Not that Rowdy couldn’t manage that on his own. Single-handedly, he’d protected his sister, built a safe life for them both and once his sister’s future was secured, he’d taken over a profligate business and made it not only reputable, but profitable and popular, as well.

She thought of his inventive solution to tone down Ella’s over-the-top sensual wardrobe, how he always lent a hand to Jones, the cook.

How he made his desire for her plain without ever trying to force the issue. He was only at his pushiest when trying to protect her. Even as his breathing evened into sleep, he kept her close.

Slowly, she turned to her back. Rowdy’s hand just naturally slid to her hip. He made a small sound, shifted a little and sank back into oblivion.

It appeared exhaustion had finally claimed him. She was so glad. His warm breath and the weight of his muscled arm crossing her body tried to lull her to sleep, too, but her mind continued to churn. With everything that had happened, she’d almost forgotten about the phone call.

Now the possible ramifications of it came crashing back over her. She had reason to worry.

But no way would she burden Rowdy with her problems, not when he’d already spent his life dealing with so much. Maybe she could talk to Logan or Reese without Rowdy knowing.

She turned her head to look at him. So sinfully gorgeous, he took her breath away. Even dead to the world, he didn’t look entirely relaxed.