I fully admitted it took several minutes for me to avert my eyes. It was a backside view but I couldn’t say I was complaining. His broad shoulders tapered down to slim hips, muscles rippling in his back as he raised his arms to lather up that raven-black hair, teasing water droplets sluicing down that smooth back. I followed one particular drop’s journey, mouth watering as it crept closer and closer to the dip in the small of his back, heading right for the crease in his firm, muscled ass—
Oh, my God. I was ogling him again. While he was naked. Without his knowledge.
How skeevy could a guy get here?
And, yet, I couldn’t stop myself from lowering my gaze, following the trail of that single droplet as it continued its desultory journey. I was going to hell for this, I knew it, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop even with mental berating echoing in my cranium over the whole straight issue.
I frowned suddenly. Wait. Was that…?
What… was… that?
Almost indistinguishable against that alabaster complexion were crisscrossing, pale lines marring the perfection of his body. Some were puckered, some tinged the slightest shade of pink, but they were all angry and long, bisecting both cheeks, curving around his hips and even running in jagged spears down his thighs. There were so many, dozens.
I would’ve thought kinky but some instinct had me knowing those were inflicted rather than accepted.
My horror in that moment surmounted anything I’d felt at myself for the feelings only he seemed able to evoke in me. A tiny, barely audible sound of distress squeaked past my throat, but apparently it was loud enough to alert Kieran.
He whipped around, aquamarine eyes snagging my own, his lips parting ever so slightly. His nostrils flared, eyes widening just enough that their icy depths crystallized even more, becoming two glaciers. His version of shocked, I assumed.
“I-I’m sorry,” I stammered, stumbling back and out of that outdoor shower room.
Hands shaking and transmitting the trembles to the rest of my body, I scrambled up the stairs and into the bathroom, pressing my back against the closed door. The barely suppressed fury contained inside me wanted to explode out and crush skulls.
Who the hell had done that to him? And where was the motherfucker so I could kill him?
I banged my head against the door, grimacing. Why the fuck did I even care? I never got this involved with a girlfriend before, never concerned myself with their past hurts or even fears, and yet with Kieran I cared. Inexplicably, impossibly, I cared.
Fuck. I was really in trouble.
Shaking my head, trying to rattle out those ridiculous notions tumbling around my brain, I drained the weasel, quickly washing my hands and brushing my teeth. I think I stalled a little more by organizing his medicine cabinet but finally I just had to buck up and go back downstairs. Face Kieran and pretend I hadn’t seen anything.
I found him in the kitchen. He’d thrown on a pair of jeans, riding low on his hips and exposing a few of the scars curving up around his smooth skin, but he was shirtless and barefoot. Jesus, even his feet were gorgeous. How was that even possible?
Tentatively, I tiptoed in, scooting out a barstool pushed up to the island and copping a squat. Kieran made no reaction that he heard me but his shoulders tensed briefly and he asked, “Are you hungry?”
“Starving, actually,” I admitted. “I could probably eat a horse, hooves and all.”
Those broad shoulders tensed even more, shaking, and I got the distinct impression that he was stifling an amused chuckle. When he spoke again, I could hear a smile in his voice. “No horse,” he said. “But we do have waffles, bacon and hash browns.”
“Breakfast fit for a king,” I approved lightly. “Need any help?”
A minute shake of his head answered me.
I sat silently, watching him bustle around the kitchen preparing breakfast, his movements so graceful and confident. Not once did he turn to fully look at me and that incident in the outdoor shower was hanging out right there in the kitchen with us, a big, fat elephant we were both trying to ignore. It wasn’t a successful attempt on my part.
Clearing his throat, keeping his gaze lowered, Kieran placed a steaming plate of food in front of me. Silently, he sat across from me, twirling his fork between his fingers before quickly cutting into his waffles. His impeccable table manners were putting mine to shame. He speared up small bites and I watched his lips close over each one, sliding along the tines with almost pornographic aplomb. I doubted he even realized how erotic he looked while eating.
Jesus, I think I was drooling. Again.
“Do you live here year round?” I asked him, biting into the crisp bacon.
He slowly shook his head. “No, I only stay here when I need some R&R,” he mumbled.
“R&R?” I smirked. “What do you do, anyway?” I, of course, was imagining that he did nothing. I mean, come on. He had a rich daddy supporting him. What was so stressful in his life that he needed any rest and relaxation? Wasn’t his whole life rest and relaxation?
“I founded a non-profit organization called Shelter From the Storm,” he told me, making certain to keep his eyes downcast. “It provides shelter, food and clothes for impoverished people. Currently, I’ve bought some property and renovations are in development for apartments. Something very affordable for them.”
My eyebrows sprang up, impressed despite myself. “How old are you?” I demanded.
“Twenty-two.”
Jesus, I was twenty and hadn’t even decided if psychology was even the road I wanted to travel down. He was only two years older and already had a business, one that actually benefitted others. Maybe I’d misjudged him. Maybe he wasn’t the spoiled, rich golden boy I’d imagined. Maybe there was actually some depth to him.
Of course, if that was the case, I really was screwed. I’d accepted my attraction for him to some degree but I’d had hope stored away over the fact that he was a spoiled, rich golden boy who was born with a diamond encrusted spoon shoved up his ass. Those types always turned me off — at least the few shallow debutantes I’d dated had — so I’d been safe in that attraction.
Now, not so much.
“Does your dad help you out with that venture?” I asked, pushing down those other thoughts for now and forking up a heaping pile of hash browns. They were delicious but I doused them with ketchup, anyway. Everything always tasted better with ketchup.
Kieran’s eyes flicked up briefly but he quickly glanced back down. “Um, no. We aren’t really on speaking terms.”
I cocked a brow. “Falling out?”
He made a soft scoffing sound. “Something like that,” he murmured. “He’s not exactly happy with the lifestyle I’ve chosen.”
My fork paused mid air, jaw hanging open to accept the syrupy triangle of waffles, my gaze snagging his as he glanced up. The lifestyle he chose? Did that mean a gay lifestyle or doing charity work? Or something else I wasn’t aware of?
Those scars I’d glimpsed flashed through my mind and my stomach turned over, heaving violently, bile creeping up my throat. No, it couldn’t be…