Page 97 of Boots & Scars

Relief touched her face, and my heart swelled at the sight of it, at how open she wore her emotions.

Everly leaned forward, her face inches from mine. "Kiss me, Cooper," she whispered. "Please."

I leaned in and closed the distance between us, capturing her lips with mine. The world outside that room faded away; it was just us, tangled in each other’s warmth and breath.

She flinched slightly because of the cut on her lips, and I pulled away, my forehead resting gently against hers.

"I fought back," she whispered, her eyes glistening with tears. "I fought back."

"I know you did," I murmured, my voice steady. "My little killer. I know you did."

The anger burned through me again, a hot, searing rage that made my muscles tense. I wrapped my arms around her tentatively, careful not to cause her any more pain. But I needed to touch her, to protect her. Holding her was the only thing keeping me from losing it completely.

"No one will ever touch you like that again," I promised, my voice low but firm. "I swear it."

Everly nestled into me, her breath shaky but calming as she found comfort in our closeness. The room was quiet, the only sounds were our breathing and the soft hum of the machines.

"I thought... when it happened... I thought I'd never see you again," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm here now," I reassured her, tightening my hold just a bit. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Her fingers traced light patterns on my arm, grounding both of us in the moment.

"I'm scared," she confessed after a long pause.

"I know," I replied softly. "But you don't have to be scared alone."

We stayed like that for a while, holding each other in the sterile hospital room. Her warmth seeped into me, pushing away some of the cold anger that had settled in my bones since seeing her hurt.

Everly nodded against me, a small but determined gesture that filled me with a fierce sense of protectiveness. This girl—mygirl—had fought back against everything life threw at her. And I'd be damned if I let anyone hurt her again.

29

Everly

The soft light from Cooper's bedside lamp cast a warm glow across the room. The shadows danced, creating an intimate cocoon that felt miles away from the outside world. I stood there, heart pounding, as Cooper approached me with a gentle but determined look in his eyes. He reached out, his calloused fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice was husky, filled with both desire and concern. "You just got discharged. Maybe you should rest."

"I don't want to rest," I insisted.

He still didn't think he deserved this after what happened. Still punishing himself for something I had already forgiven.

My breath hitched as his hands found the hem of my shirt. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted it over my head, his fingertips grazing my skin and sending shivers down my spine. The shirt landed softly on the floor.

His eyes roamed over me, taking in every inch as if committing it to memory. He cupped my face, his thumb tracing the curve of my cheek. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

My pulse quickened as he moved closer, pressing his lips against my collarbone. The sensation of his mouth on my skin was electrifying. His hands slid down to my waist, fingers working on the button of my jeans with practiced ease. One by one, they loosened until the denim slipped down my legs.

I stood there in nothing but my underwear, feeling exposed yet cherished under his intense gaze. Cooper’s hands roamed over me with reverence, mapping out every dip and curve as if he was worshiping a sacred relic.

His lips followed the path his hands had taken earlier—kissing along my shoulder, trailing down to the hollow between my breasts. Each touch was gentle but insistent, like he wanted to savor every moment.

When he finally pulled back to look at me again, there was a raw vulnerability in his eyes that matched what I felt inside. “Everly,” he whispered, and it was more than just saying my name; it was a promise, a declaration of everything that lay between us.

He unhooked my bra with a deft motion, sliding it off and letting it fall to join the rest of our discarded clothing. His hands cupped me tenderly before his mouth followed suit, lavishing attention that made me arch into him involuntarily.

Every touch was an unspoken conversation—one where words failed but emotions soared. His worshiping gaze never wavered as he knelt before me and hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties.

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