“Holy shit.”

He stared, openmouthed, as she stepped from her jeans, leaving her in thigh-high socks and a pair of boy-short panties with little kisses all over them.

She held her hands clenched in front of what he couldn’t wait to touch. And taste. “Why do you look so stressed?” He kept his voice gentle, even as he took her hands, untangling them and kissing her palms. “You still with me? What’s next? Definitely the panties and the socks. And then the bed, I hope. Though I can do standing up, sitting down, on the floor, over the couch arm, whatever you desire.”

She blushed and in one quick movement slid her panties down her legs and stepped out of them. He hoped she ordered him to do something really soon. Like before he embarrassed himself.

“Bed, I think. For this first time.” She cleared her throat and stood a bit taller. “Yes, that’s what I think. Um, by the way, I don’t need to control every move you make. I’d wager you have way more moves than I could even imagine.”

He laughed as she moved to the bed. Quickly, he joined her, sliding his hands up her legs, from her ankles to her mid-thigh where the socks ended. An intriguing trio of freckles peeked from beneath the top.

“It’s all been practice for this moment.” He wasn’t going to tell her that right then he couldn’t even recall another woman he’d been with. She took up every bit of his attention and memory.

He began to roll down the left sock, leaning down to kiss the skin he exposed. But she stopped him.

“I’d feel better with them on.”

He licked up her thigh, over the crease where thigh met leg, and delighted in her swallowed gasp. “Are you cold?”

“N-no.” A sound came from her, low and ragged, as he breathed over her mound, the sticky-sweet scent of her pu**y greeting his senses and laying him low. He rubbed the side of his face up her belly, kissing and licking to her br**sts, where he planned to spend some quality time.

“Then what is it?”

“I’d just feel better with them on.” She squirmed, making an adorable squeal when he licked over a nipple.

“Is this about your scars?”

She stiffened, and he regretted bringing it up. Still, now that he’d said it, he had to tread carefully.

“I just want them on. I feel more comfortable with them on. Do you want to have sex or not?”

He rolled to the side and moved up so they could face each other. “I don’t want to have sex when we’re like this.”

She tried to get up, but he put an arm around her waist to stay her. “Let me go.”

He sighed, letting her go. It took every bit of his control to stay there, watching her spring from his bed. “Are you really just going to leave? Now? After all this? We’re building something here, Ella. Don’t be a coward. Not when I know for a fact just how brave you are.”

She stared at him for a long time without speaking and then plopped into a nearby chair. “You don’t know shit about me, Andrew.”

“Bull. I know you, Ella. I know you are strong and smart and steadfast. I know you have scars on your leg and you’re afraid I’m going to see them and judge you. Fuck that. The only person I judge is the man who gave you those scars. And what are scars to me anyway? Huh? Jesus, what do you think I am? What have I done to ever make you think I’d reject you because you had some scars on your leg?”

“They’re not just scars!” Angrily, she shoved the sock down to expose her leg. Tears brightened her eyes, and he shook his head, moving to her, even as she held her hand out to stop him.

He didn’t want to blow off her concerns and the way she felt about herself, but at the same time, he looked closely and then pressed a kiss to her calf where the scarring was worst. He ruthlessly held back any pity at the sight of the scars, though he knew what sort of pain she must have experienced healing and in physical therapy. Pity would only make her withdraw from him further.

“They take nothing away from your beauty. Nothing. I don’t care about this. Don’t you get it? You’re not diminished by this. It’s just another part of you.”

She pushed at his head, but he didn’t move back until he’d kissed her knee. “It’s ugly.”

He laughed. “Ella, nothing about you is ugly. The scarring isn’t severe. You’re beautiful. Long and lithe. Your legs, even with the scars, are strong and shapely.”

“I left. I did what I was supposed to do.” Her jaw squared, she looked pissed off. He realized it was the first time she’d ever said anything like that to him.

“I know. You did.” He paused, still naked, c**k still at full alert as he knelt at her feet. “I want to see every part of you. From your head to your toes, Ella. I want all of you.” Deliberately, he caressed her calf without breaking his gaze. “Don’t hide this from me.”

He got to her, and that made her nervous. She’d built a wall around herself, protecting her emotions from anything dire. Even her family was outside it to a certain extent. It wasn’t so much that he was pushy, but he refused to be put off. She couldn’t hide from him because he demanded that sort of honesty.

Could she give it?

“What do you say, Red?”

Before she could answer, he turned and pressed a hot, openmouthed kiss just behind her knee where the scarring was the worst. Something ripped from her as she looked down at him, his eyes closed, his mouth pressed to her leg, the hand holding her firm but gentle. His hair so dark against her pale skin.