Scars of Yesterday (Sons of Templar MC #8) - Anne Malcom Page 0,70

I was young when I had Jack. That had been easier. I’d had more energy. Exercised. Ate well, and then didn’t have time to eat because I was too busy using all my energy on another human. Lily came when I was older. Bouncing back from her birth took longer. I’d been self-conscious about the fact that it took me longer to return to how I’d looked before, or at least as close as was humanly possible, after having two humans. Pregnancy, birth, motherhood… all that altered a woman’s body in unchangeable ways.

Or only in ways that could only be changed with a scalpel.

Not that I judged any mother who went that route. I’d been tempted, looking at myself in the mirror, seeing the evidence of my children like a roadmap of everything we’d gone through. I wouldn’t give them up for anything. They were my world. Sometimes, though, selfish vanity whispered.

But I’d had a husband who had worshipped me. Who’d made it very clear he loved the evidence showing I’d carried his children. Who’d left no room for me to be insecure.

And even with what had happened in our darkest of days, I’d never worried about the young club girls with tight asses and fake tits. What he did back then was not about the woman. Was not about sex or desire.

It was about Ranger’s demons. His fears. His scars. In so many ways, he was my perfect man. Perfect husband. But humans couldn’t be perfect. We were too prone to damage. To self-sabotage. We wore the traumas of the world on our souls. Ranger was damaged in irreversible ways. So I’d had to love the parts of him he hated. Had to forgive the actions that were driven by those parts.

It was hard. It hurt. But we overcame it. We’d had a marriage that I was proud of. A love we worked at. I’d never thought I’d be walking around in our bedroom with my naked body on show for a man who wasn’t him.

It made me sick.

What I’d done.

That my husband was no longer the last man to see me naked. To touch me. Fuck me.

I was disgusted with myself as I shrugged on my robe, tying it so tight it hurt. Kace must’ve felt the energy in the room move, because he got up and dressed quietly. I didn’t look at him, just listened to the rustle of his clothes as he put them on. I held my breath so I didn’t have to smell his scent, the smell of sex that coated the room.

The silence between us was awkward now. It was harsh. I’d never experienced anything like this. The weirdness that came after sex with someone who was little more than a stranger. Even when Ranger and I had been separated, I’d only had sex with one other man. A boyfriend I’d had for six months before doing that. He’d been kind, gentle and just a nice guy. Nothing more than that. He was nonthreatening because I’d only ever thought of him as a nice guy.

Kace was threatening.

I’d already known that.

I prayed for him to leave without a word. To not try to salvage this moment with words that would only make it more awkward.

His boots thumped on the floor, but the door didn’t open. My hair moved from my neck, lips settling over my skin. My body reacted immediately, despite everything swirling in my head. I relaxed a little, sinking back against him.

“Until next time, baby,” he murmured. His lips hovered for a moment longer then my hair fell back in place. Boots thumped against the floor, the door opened and closed. I stayed standing where I was for a long time. No tears. No breakdowns. I just stood there. I snapped into action First, I took a shower. Then I stripped the sheets from the bed, took the blanket from the floor and put them in the wash.

Got ready for my kids to come home. Tried to pretend it never happened.

But I dreamed of him that night.

It was the first night in over a year I hadn’t dreamed of my husband.

Chapter 11

Three Weeks Later

“I need to go,” I groaned, trying to pull myself out of bed.

Strong arms held onto me, yanking me back into bed.

He smelled of leather and sex.

“You need to come...” he murmured, his hand moving down my stomach.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head at the thought of yet another orgasm. I was like a teenager. We