Page 57 of Revival

“What can I do?”

“For starters, you can get that ass back over here,” he growls. “I didn’t say I wanted you to leave.”

I bite my lip with indecision. Before I can respond, he speaks again.

“I’ll feel cooler when we get into the water.”

I survey the other guests milling about before leaning closer. “Have you thought of taking it off? I have extra sunscreen. We can load you up to keep your skin protected from the sun.”

Averting his gaze, he clenches his jaw. “That’s probably not a good idea.”

“It’s perfectly reasonable.” The distance closes as I scoot closer. “Nobody knows you here, and I think you’ll be more comfortable.”

“The heat is preferable,” he mutters.

“Spencer—”

“It isn’t pretty,Cort.” My name comes out with the callousness of a curse word.

“I think you’re beautiful.” I close my eyes briefly and grimace. “Handsome. I mean handsome. If you’re worried about what I’ll think, I can tell you right now that scars or no scars, I’m still going to be insanely attracted to you.”

The admission freezes the air between us.

He can’t honestly be surprised to hear I find him attractive. Not after all we’ve done together the last couple of days.

I forge on. “You should also know I’m the only person whose opinion matters on this boat.”

“They’re ugly.”

“It’s not nice to call other people ugly, Spencer. I know your mom taught you better than that.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “I meant the scars, Kitten.”

I cup the healing side of his face. His long, blunt lashes flutter as if he’s fighting against closing his eyes. Instead, he leans into my careful touch.

“Nothing about you is ugly to me.”

My thumb strokes along the broken, jagged lines of damaged skin across his cheek. A shudder ripples through him.

The acquiescence I’m looking for is a rusty nod.

Without breaking our connection, he reaches behind his neck and pulls the collar of his shirt over his head.

I’d find it fucking hot if this wasn’t such a monumental moment. As much as I want to drink in every ridge of his cut torso, there’s plenty of time to do that later. For now, I muster up as much sincerity as I can and hold our connection.

We break contact only as long as it takes him to drag the fabric off and drop it into his lap.

The first few seconds, Spencer doesn’t even twitch. It’s as if he’s waiting for the whispers and stares.

All the while, I stroke his cheek.

“Better?”

“Do—” His voice breaks gruffly on the word. He clears his throat and tries again. “Do you want to see them?”

“Do you want to show me?”

Another tight nod bobs his head.

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