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be true.” She sighed, exhausted.
    Uncurling her feet from under her, she stood to go run a shower. She’d shut off most of the lights in the living room, leaving a single lamp beside the sofa lighting the space. Her mind drifted back to Matt. Scarred Matt. She wished she could have helped him see that those scars didn’t make the man, that the man he was inside mattered more.
    Kayla had tried to get her to stay. Jessie felt bad, but if she stayed, she’d seek out Matt and he was too scared to see beyond his scars to open himself up. Then again, so was she.
    Her doorbell rang. Hopefully it wasn’t Rissa coming to tell her how she needed to cut her shit and finish her vacation. She really could do without having the “you’re stressed out” talk. Her throat closed up when she saw him standing there.
    “Matt?”
    He held a bouquet of yellow roses toward her. Anxiety filled his gaze.
    She took them out of his hands and studied his tense stance.
    “I’m sorry,” he blurted out.
    “Um, do you want to come in?” Heartbeats pounded so hard in her chest she felt lightheaded.
    He strode into her apartment, filling up her living room with the scent of his fresh cologne. Her mouth watered as she took in the way his jeans fit his ass. Hot damn. The leather jacket and black T-shirt reminded her of a biker badass.
    She cleared her throat, placed the flowers over the coffee table, and studied him. “What are you sorry about?”
    “I was stupid.” He gulped, curling his hands into fists. “I didn’t want to see pity in your face when you saw my scars. I’ve been so self-involved in my own world of keeping others from feeling sorry for me, that I didn’t stop to think maybe you wouldn’t.”
    She took a tentative step toward him. “I would never feel sorry for you. You have scars. We all have them.”
    With a shaky breath, she lifted some of her tank top to reveal her side. Large scars lined the area down from her ribcage to her hip.
    He frowned as he stared at the jagged lines. “What happened to you?”
    “When I was a little girl, we visited some family in the country. The boys were all climbing this thick, tall, tree.” She dropped her tank back into place and took another step, until she stood before him, watching him as she spoke. “My little sister, Rissa, asked me if I could do it.”
    His gorgeous eyes never wavered from her face. Interest brightened the blue depths. She snorted. “It was the big sister challenge. I got to the top without a problem.” She licked her lips, lifted a hand to his chest and placed it over his heart. “But on my way down, I slipped and landed on a broken bottle.”
    His eyes went wide. “Christ!”
    “It embedded into my side.” The tripping of his heart under her palm felt soothing, intoxicating. “My dad took me to the hospital and said ‘You’ll be scarred, but that scar means you dealt with something and became strong because you survived it.’’’
    She watched the emotions play out in his eyes. Fear. Concern. Hope. “I don’t need to see your scars to know you’re a survivor.” She glanced at his mouth and was tempted to kiss him. “But you shouldn’t hide behind them.”
    Slowly, she slid her hands down to the edge of his T-shirt and under to feel his stomach.
    He cupped her face in his hands and he kissed her, a powerful, emotional kiss that crushed her insecurities and flooded her with hope. He curled his tongue around hers, driving her arousal higher. Passion burnt in her core. Her pussy slickened with need. He pulled away from her, eyes glittering with desire.
    She panted breaths into her lungs, watching him remove his jacket. Oh boy. He grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and started to pull it up.
    “Let me,” she said, taking hold of the material.
    She drew the cotton up and over his head until he was only wearing those ass-hugging jeans she wanted to tear off.
    His hands clenched at his sides. That wouldn’t do. Locking her gaze with his, she leaned