Sing For Me by Rachel Schurig

Eva

Iwake up in a dark room. A single beam shines dimly from the kitchen, dancing across the very big, very muscular, very tattooed arm that is currently wrapped around my waist.

“You awake?” Will murmurs in my ear, his hot breath setting off a storm of goosebumps over my skin.

“I’m not sure yet.”

My body moves with the gentle vibration of his soft, rumbling laugh.

“You didn’t have to stay,” I whisper.

His arms tighten. “Wanted to.”

I breathe in the scent of him, his woodsy body wash and something distinct that reminds me of his shop. I should probably be freaking out right now, having him this close to me, his big body pressed against my back, his arms tight around me. But freaked out is the last thing I feel. I’m slightly embarrassed, yes. But the primary emotion surging through me is contentment. This feels good.

“How’s your hip?”

I stretch, feeling it out. “Better. Still a little sore.”

“Your doctor mentioned a hot tub?”

“Mmm.” The thought of hot water on my sore and swollen muscles does sound pretty damn good. But that would require getting up. And letting Will go. Which I should probably do—I can’t imagine the guy wants to spend his entire evening stuck playing nurse to a washed-up pop star.

But that’s not what I say. “Will you stay with me?” I whisper.

A big warm hand comes down on my hip, squeezing briefly before beginning to rub slow, soft circles, my skin burning with the heat of his even through the material of my maxi skirt.

“I’d be pretty stupid to turn down a hot tub with a pretty girl.”

I snort into his arm. “I have some extra bathing suits in the spare bedroom.”

Neither of us move. I’m pretty sure Will’s hand on my hip is causing hypnosis. I sigh. “This feels nice too,” I admit.

His lips press against the back of my head. “It does.”

Of course, my stomach chooses that moment to give an almighty grumble and Will chuckles into my hair. “I guess that was our cue.”

He pulls us both into a seated position and it’s all I can do not to groan. I would have been happy to lie there with him all night, food be damned.

“You want to order something?” he asks. “Or I could cook. What do you have in your fridge?”

“Um. I think the kitchen is pretty bare. Marissa usually does the shopping on Thursdays.”

He shakes his head at me. “Such a diva.”

I smack his arm. “I am not. I’ll prove it to you—I can order us a pizza all by myself.”

Will’s lips twitch. “I take it back. You are truly a woman of the people.”

We watch old episodes of Raider while we wait for the food. Will stretches out on the couch, sitting much closer to me than he usually would, and keeps up a steady stream of criticism about my favorite show. I don’t mind—he’s kind of charming when he’s teasing me. After we scarf down nearly an entire large pizza, I lead him into the guest room to find an extra swim suit and then leave him there to change.

Standing in front of my own drawer of suits, I realize my error. The only one-piece I own is a sleek racing suit I used to wear when rigorous exercise was still something I did. It would cover the scar tissue on the side of my stomach, but the legs are cut way too high.

Why didn’t I think about this before? Will is the last person I want to be in a bathing suit in front of.

There’s a soft knock on my door. “Almost ready?”

I sigh, reaching for the most modest bikini I own—at least this one will cover most of my hip. I’ll just have to wear a t-shirt over it to cover my torso. “Coming.”

My nerves—along with every thought in my head—disappear at the sight of him standing on my deck in his suit. The moon overhead shines down on smooth, inked up skin like a spotlight. His chest is even more cut than I would have guessed from the times I’ve been close enough to feel it, a large expanse of tanned muscles flexing as he turns toward me.

I, apparently, don’t have nearly the same effect on him—he takes one look at me and raises an eyebrow. “That’s what you’re wearing to swim?”

I tug on the baggy t-shirt, smoothing the hem down over the waistband of the long gym shorts Caleb left here once. “I’m cold,” I tell him, and his eyebrow raises higher. It was warm in LA today, and the setting sun has done little to lower the temperature.

“You don’t think the hot tub will be sufficient warmth?”

“Just get your ass in there, Ransome.”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “You’re the boss.”

Once his back is turned to climb the steps into the tub, I pull down the gym shorts, tugging the hem of my shirt as low as it can go. If I angle my body on the way in, I should be able to get below the water before he can see anything.

His dark eyes remain locked on mine as I sink into the warm bubbles. It’s too dark out here for me to read his expression but I don’t like the appraising way he’s studying me.

“What?” I ask, fidgeting with the shirt under the water. It’s not the most comfortable thing to wear in here, the jets from the tub making the abundance of sodden fabric swirl and bubble up around me.

“You know I would never pressure you to do something you didn’t want to do, right?”

I stare at him, caught off guard. “Yeah, Will. I know that.”

He gives a pointed look to the fabric on my chest. The jets have pushed so much air into the oversized shirt that I’m in very real danger of drowning in cotton. “Then what’s with the shirt? I can control myself if I see you in a bathing suit, Eva.” He swallows and I get distracted by the droplet of water that slips over his Adam’s apple.

“I know you aren’t interested in that…from me,” he continues, and a shot of guilt rises in my belly.

“It’s not that, Will,” I say immediately. “I trust you.”

He gestures at the ridiculous shirt again. “Then what’s happening here?”

I let out a long breath, resting my head back on the edge of the tub. “I’m too attracted to you,” I groan out.

“I’m sorry?” Bewilderment bleeds from his voice.

“I’m too attracted to you, Will!” I sit up straighter so I can gesture at him. “I mean, look at you!” He looks down at his bare chest, glistening with water in the moonlight like some kind of sexy demon sent to destroy me. I tug on the billowing shirt. “Your body is ridiculous!”

“So you’re saying you’re attracted to me.”

I stare at him for a long moment than throw up my hands. “Duh!”

His eyes are twinkling with amusement as he searches my face. “I’m not seeing why this is a problem.”

The freaking shirt is trying to plaster itself over my face, adding to the irritation. “You’re like, insanely beautiful. Your tattoos and that thick, stupid, gorgeous hair.” I point at his face. “And your beard! And I don’t even like beards! So why does your beard make my fingers itch to touch it?”

“Eva—”

“I’m not finished!” I’m not exactly sure what’s gotten into me but I’m on a roll. “You’re so tall and your chest is like, unbelievable. And your forearms kill me.” I slap at the shirt. “Damn it!”

Will’s shoulders are shaking with the effort it takes not to laugh. “Please take that stupid thing off before it kills you.”

I slip back against the seat, all the fight going out of me just like that.

“You’ll see my scar.”

The words are barely more than a whisper, probably unintelligible over the rumbling of the jets. But Will stills across from me, realization dawning on his face.

“You have a scar on your hip?”

I nod. And then I tell him.

“Not just my hip. It’s my entire side, up to my ribs.” His face clouds in confusion. “I was burned, Will. While I was trapped under the scaffolding, the fire got too close—”

I’m waiting to see horror on his face but suddenly he’s in motion, sliding across the middle of the tub to pull me into his arms. He tucks my face into his chest, cradling me against him for a long moment, rubbing my back, whispering that he’s sorry, so sorry. That he’s glad I’m here and okay.

It feels too good, his hands on me in the warm water, even with the damn shirt in the way. I don’t want to let go but I finally pull away enough to look up at him. “I’ve had some plastic surgery, but it’s a pretty ugly scar. It could have been a lot worse, I know, but I’m still not…comfortable with it.”

He smooths the damp hair back from my face. “Thus nearly drowning in a t-shirt.”

I allow myself a small smile as I watch his face. He doesn’t look horrified by what I told him. He doesn’t look overwhelmed or ready to bolt, like my bag of issues is just too much for him to deal with. He just watches me right back with calm, understanding eyes, smoothing my hair over and over again with his big warm palms.

“You know what I think?” he finally asks.

“What’s that?”

“I think you should show me.”

I freeze all over again. “Show you?” I squeak out.

The corner of his mouth tugs up. “Yeah, gorgeous. I think you have it built up in your head as this awful thing. And if you show me you’ll be able to see that nothing changes between us. Think about the weight that will lift off your shoulders then.”

The idea of not carrying this around with me anymore—the embarrassment and self-disgust—is tempting. But how can he promise it will turn out that way? How can he say for sure that nothing will change?

I bury my face against his chest again and whisper the most true fear I have when it comes to him. “I don’t want you to look at me differently.”

“Hey.” He slips a hand beneath my chin, tilting my head up so he can see me. “That’s not going to happen.”

I let out a long, shuddering breath. “I know that we’re not like, a thing. I know I screwed all that up.” He opens his mouth, maybe to argue that, but I press a finger to his soft lips so I can continue. “But I love the way you look at me, Will.”

His mouth twitches under my finger. “And how do I look at you?”

“Like…like you think I’m beautiful.”

His blue eyes flare in the dim light. “You are beautiful.”

I swallow. “Well, it’s been a really long time since I’ve felt like that was true. But when I’m with you…When I’m with you, I feel like I’m a normal, unbroken girl. And I really, really don’t want that to change.”

“It won’t.” He speaks the words like a vow, like a promise, and God, I want to believe him.

Will brings his face close to mine, fingers trailing over my cheekbones. “Let me prove that to you, Eva. Let me show you.”

My hands are shaking as I pull myself up and away from Will. He follows me until we’re both sitting on the edge of the tub, our feet dangling in the water. I take a deep, shuddering breath and pull the wet cotton from my body. He doesn’t follow the shirt with his eyes, waiting for me to give the okay.

You can do this,his steady, burning eyes seems to tell me.

He won’t be able to see all the evidence of destruction, the way it curls around my hip and side and spreads down to my upper thigh. But he’ll be able to see enough. The scar tissue from the burn on my waist, on my lower ribs. The jagged line on my hip from the surgeries where the doctors tried to rebuild the joint.

He’ll be able to see enough.

I realize that I squeezed my eyes shut while pulling off my shirt and haven’t managed to open them again. Maybe that’s for the best. Maybe I should just hide here in the safe, dark world behind my eyelids where I’ll never have to see disgust cross his features.

But then I hear his low exhale of breath, almost a pained sound, and my eyes fly open.

His expression steals my breath. His eyes are hungry as they sweep across my body, from my simple black bikini top down to my stomach. My sides. My scar.

“Eva,” he mumbles, his voice graveled and rough. “Jesus.”

“Will?”

His eyes finally snap up to mine and my stomach drops out at the intensity I see there. The fire.

“You want to know what I see when I look at you?” he asks. I can’t make my mouth work so I nod and Will slips off the edge of the tub, sliding in front of me and kneeling on the seat in the water so we’re facing each other. Slowly, so slowly, he raises a hand to brush his fingertips across my collarbones.

“The most beautiful skin I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs roughly, hand drifting lower, his gaze following his fingers as they drift across the swell of my breast. He swallows hard but doesn’t stop his journey, sliding his hand down to cup my waist. “I see this gorgeous shape you have,” he says, squeezing a little. “The way your waist tucks in here.” His palm grazes down over my hip. “These fucking amazing curves that have driven me crazy every day since I saw you standing in my shop.”

My eyes feel hot with unshed tears. His fingers are on my scar now, gripping my hip tight, and he doesn’t look disgusted. He doesn’t look afraid. He looks the same way he always does when he sees me—like he likes what he sees. Like he wants me.

His hand flexes against my hip and then relaxes. Slowly he presses the pads of his fingertips against the scar tissue, rubbing gently. Over my hip, up to my waist, all the way to the bottom of my ribs. It would tickle if I could think straight.

He finally tears his gaze away from my body to stare deep into my eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so intense. So focused. So sure.

“The only thing this scar shows me is how strong you are, Eva. And if you think that strength makes you look less beautiful to me, you’re absolutely fucking insane.”

I let out a noise between a sob and a laugh and Will has me in his arms before I can blink, his lips pressing into my hair while his hands roam over every inch of exposed skin, lighting my body on fire.

“Will,” I whisper into his chest.

“Yeah, honey?”

There’s something about the way he says the word, all deep and smooth, like dark whiskey sliding off his tongue, that has my stomach clenching in desire. I’m not usually a fan of pet names, but damn if Will Ransome doesn’t make it sound good.

“Do you think we could…I don’t know. Take a time out?”

His hands still in their journey over my bare, wet skin. “A time out from what?”

I let out a shuddering breath, everything in me hot and needy, wishing he would keep touching me. “From the whole friendship thing.”

He pulls back, dark eyes searching my face. “You want a time-out from being friends?”

I nod, bringing my hands up to glide across that beautiful, solid chest. “I really, really want to kiss you.”

Realization dawns on his face, his expression somehow softening even more and I can’t help but smile. This big, bearded, inked-up man is so gentle with me, so sweet.

And I know right then that this isn’t a simple crush anymore. Just friends or not, I’m falling for Will Ransome, falling hard. And if I don’t want to lose him, I’m going to have to find some bravery somewhere inside me.

With shaking fingers, I reach behind me and tug on the ties of my bikini. Will’s eyes widen, his breath catching. “Is this okay?” I whisper.

“Fuck, yes,” he mutters, so fierce I have to laugh. Will sets his burning eyes on me and grins. “I’m one hundred percent on board with a friendship break.”

I breathe out in relief. I would never want to lead him on. We need to be on the same page if anything is going to—

Apparently, I’m stalling too much because Will reaches behind me to tug on the strings at my neck.

Everything seems to happen very fast after that. Will’s hands are everywhere at once, his lips following close behind while I tip my neck back, staring up at the inky sky, gasping for breath, until it feels too good and I have to close my eyes against the onslaught.

But Will isn’t having that. “Look at me,” he growls, just before his lips cover the tip of my breast.

“I can’t!” I gasp, and the smile pressed to my skin turns positively wicked as he slides down my body, past my belly button, to the place between my thighs that’s begging for him.

“Try,” he murmurs.

Then he uses that wicked mouth and those strong fingers to bring me right to the edge, not relenting until I go crashing right over it, pleasure like I’ve never known slamming through me.

And, somehow, I manage to keep my eyes on his the entire time, even as the dark fire I see in his irises ignites me from the inside out. For the last year and a half, nothing has terrified me more than the memory of flames. But these flames—the ones I feel spreading out from my core to the tips of my toes, the ones only Will has ever been able to ignite—I’d be happy to let them consume me.

Afterwards, he doesn’t ask for anything for himself. Pushes my hand away when I tried to repay the favor, whispering that tonight was for me. Then he plucks me up out of the water and I wrap my legs around his waist, clinging to him tightly as he carries me into my house to get dry.