Honor and conviction filled his words and gave her more evidence of the pure quality of this man’s character, heart, and soul. “They’re also majestic and beautiful and noble,” she said, coming around his other side. Just like him. She frowned at a healing wound across the top of his other shoulder. “What happened?”
“Gunshot, the night we rescued Charlie. Just a scratch,” he said.
Nodding, she slipped the shirt from his fingers and smiled.
“My turn?” he asked.
The smile dropped from her face. What he would find under her shirt was not beautiful.
He leaned down and cupped her face in his hand. “Every one of the men on my team has scars. And you know what those scars are?”
Heaving a shaky breath, she shook her head.
“They’re proof of survival. They’re badges of honor. They’re marks of strength.” Shane swallowed hard. “You don’t have to show me, Crystal. But you do need to know there’s nothing on your body I won’t love and respect. Because it’s you.”
The words reached into her chest and soothed her heart.
Was she going to live her life in fear forever? Hide forever? Or maybe, just maybe, could she trust someone to know the real her? To love the real her. Jenna had accepted her; maybe Shane would, too?
Crystal tilted her head to the side. “It’s not pretty.”
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Crystal. You’re brave and you’re strong and you’re sweet despite having been through hell and back. Nothing could change my opinion of that.” He stepped away. “There’s a bathroom right down the hall.”
She didn’t have to ask what he meant. He was giving her an out. Question was, did she want to take it?
That she was even considering revealing herself made her heart gallop and her stomach squeeze like she’d crested the highest hill on a roller coaster. With the exception of finding Jenna missing, it was possible she’d never been more terrified than she was at that moment.
“Shane,” she said, like his name was a life raft. And then she tugged the floral shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor along with his button-down. Her hair tumbled down her back and over her shoulders, soft and ticklish against her skin. White spots prickled at the corners of her vision, and Crystal forced herself to slow her breathing. Which got easier the moment she realized that Shane had not moved his gaze from her face.
“You don’t have to do this, Crystal. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“I’m tired of being afraid,” she said, her breath hitching.
Shane shook his head. “The definition of courage is action in the face of fear. By that definition, sweetness, you’re the bravest person I know.”
A fat tear streaked down her face. How had she ever found someone with such innate goodness? Even if she only got to have him for a short while, she would remember him for the rest of her life as the man who had held her hand and helped her step onto the path to finding herself again. Reaching up behind her, she released the clasps on the white satin bra she wore and let the straps tumble down her arms, and then to the floor.
Shane’s Adam’s apple bobbed in a tortured, audible swallow, like he was as nervous as she was. The thought made her smile. “Touch me, Shane. Please?”
SHANE WAS NOT sure how he’d earned the honor of witnessing this woman’s strength and courage, nor the privilege of seeing her body and making her believe every part was beautiful. But he was determined to be worthy of both.
As much as he wanted to finally lay eyes and hands on her back, instinct told him to ease her into the exploration.
So he cupped her face in both hands and brought their lips together, which closed all the distance between their torsos, too. And, God, she was soft and warm against him, arousing and comforting at the same time. Kissing her softly, he let his hands drag down her throat and trace the fine line of her collarbones. From there, his fingers traveled over the curves of her shoulders and down her arms in a slow, teasing drag that made the fine hairs on her skin stand up.
Crystal trembled under his hands, but she stood firm, bright green eyes trained on his.
From her arms, Shane’s hands found the feminine curves of her waist. He smoothed his hands up and down from ribs to hips and back again, the heels of his palms caressing the sides of her breasts on each pass. Dragging his hands inward, he ran his knuckles over her smooth, flat belly, once again struck by how slight she was. It lured his protectiveness to the fore, reaffirming his commitment to do for her what it seemed no one had ever done before—take care of her, protect her, build her up.
On each upward stroke, Shane allowed his hands to brush the bottoms of her small breasts. Perfectly suited to her frame, he yearned to feel their warmth and their weight in his palms, to taste the pebbled flesh of her nipples in his mouth. But every instinct warned him to go slow and give her the chance to become accustomed to his intimate touch.
Shane had never wanted a woman so much, and they’d barely touched one another. With her gorgeous red hair and her flashing green eyes and her tight little body, Crystal was a total knockout. But it was the survivor in her that really spoke to his soul, that brought him peace and gave him purpose.
“You honor me with this trust, Crystal. I would never hurt you,” he said. This time, when his knuckles caressed her breasts, he turned his wrists and cupped the soft mounds in his hands.
Crystal jerked like he’d hurt her. “Wait. Stop.”
Shane tore his hands away and retreated a full step. “I’m sorry.” Damnit. He’d pushed too hard and fast again.
Breathing hard, she shook her head. “No. This isn’t right,” she said, her arm muscles tense, her hands fisted by her hips.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He bent and retrieved his shirt from the floor and handed it to her.
“No, it’s not that,” she said, stepping closer and rubbing her palm over her forehead. “I don’t know how to . . .” She dropped her face in her hands.
Shane was at a loss. If she hadn’t felt pressured, what accounted for the agitation rolling off her? “Talk to me, Crystal.”
“No. No, Shane. That’s just it.” Covering her breasts, she hugged herself, and the look of fear and despair on her face nearly broke his heart. What could— “I lied to you. My name isn’t Crystal.”
“Your name’s not Crystal?” he said, triumph surging through Shane’s blood so hard and so fast he could’ve roared it to the rooftops. He knew it. He knew it. Since that first night in her apartment, he’d known she’d lied about her surname, and he suspected “Crystal” had been part of her Confessions persona.
“Are you mad?”
Shane couldn’t hold back a smile. “Aw, darlin’, it’s okay. I suspected that from the beginning. I was just waiting for the day you felt comfortable enough to tell me. Come here,” he said, aching to comfort her. A hand in her hair, he pulled her into his embrace.
“You knew?” Her arms clutched at his back.
“I was pretty sure,” he said against her temple. Shane pulled away just enough to look her in the eyes. “I’m really happy you decided to tell me.” He smiled, a jolt of anticipation lancing through him, and realized she needed him to throw her a rope. He held out his hand and turned on his Southern charm. “Hi, I’m Shane McCallan. I’m so pleased to meet you.”
Her cheeks flamed but her smile was grateful. She took his hand. “Hi, Shane, I’m Sara Dean.”
Sara. Yeah. The name was real and sweet and feminine. “Sara Dean. A perfect name for such a beautiful girl.” Damn, but he was just about flying. This moment was why he’d told Marz not to reveal her name.