He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not

you lose your footing or something?”
    “Or something,” he mumbled. He climbed the last few steps and swept his hand out for her to precede him down the hallway.
    She was still ensconced in his master bedroom, which meant he would be going into the guest room he was staying in.
    Unless she did something about it.
    Now that she knew he was affected by her display, she was going to press her advantage. At the entrance to the guest room, she stopped and turned. She raised a hand high on the doorframe and leaned a hip against the wall.
    His eyes widened and his gaze dipped down where the shirt rode high on her thigh. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he jerked his gaze back up to meet hers. “Goodnight, Amanda.” His voice was raspy and hoarse.
    “Aren’t you going to give me a goodnight kiss?”
    His brows climbed into his hairline. “A kiss?”
    “Just one. Well, unless you want more than one. I suppose that would be okay.”
    “Unless I want . . .” His brows drew down in a frown. “Are you teasing me?”
    “Maybe.”
    His gaze bored into hers as if he could divine her thoughts if he looked closely enough. But he still didn’t make a move toward her.
    She stared back and realized this was the moment she’d been both yearning for and dreading since she’d first met him, since she’d first felt his strong, gentle hands grasp her shoulders and pull her back from a world of darkness, since she’d first heard his deep, sexy voice telling her what she’d longed to hear. You’re safe .
    She wanted him, more than she’d ever wanted anyone or even thought she ever could want anyone. But it wasn’t enough. He had to want her just as much, and that meant he had to be able to look past her scars. He’d already seen her at her worst, seen how confused and scared and irrational she could sometimes get when her fears overwhelmed her.
    He hadn’t run. He was still here.
    There was another hurdle to overcome if there was even a chance that there might be something deeper between them. Until this moment, she wasn’t sure she could face it, but now that the time was at hand, she knew she was ready.
    She just didn’t know if he was ready.
    “Logan,” she whispered as her hands moved to the top button of her shirt.
    He swallowed, hard, and his gaze followed her fingers as she opened the top button and glided her fingers down to the next.
    “Yes?” he rasped.
    “The scars, they’re—”
    His eyes looked up at hers. “You’re beautiful, Mandy. All of you.”
    “But you haven’t seen—”
    “I’ve seen everything that matters. You matter.”
    She blinked back the tears in her eyes. Then she grinned and dropped her hands. “Well, in that case, if you’ve seen everything that matters—”
    “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to see more.” He reached down and whisked her shirt up over her head, throwing it to the floor before she realized what he was doing.
    She froze before him even though her instincts told her to grab the shirt and hide the ugly, puckered scars that crisscrossed beneath her breasts all the way to her navel.
    He looked her over with the intensity of a hawk, not missing a thing. “You’re amazing, Mandy. Perfect.” When his eyes finally met hers, the raw hunger and anticipation in his gaze reassured her in a way that words never could.
    How he could see her battered and scarred body and still look at her with such appreciation was a miracle she wasn’t going to question. Instead, she simply gave thanks and sank into his kiss when his lips touched hers.
    Suddenly his hands were everywhere, sliding across her skin, cupping her breasts, spanning out across her lower back to cup her buttocks, pressing her tightly against his erection.
    He broke the kiss, panting for breath. “If you want me to stop, tell me now, while I still can.”
    She watched his chest heave, listened to his ragged breathing, and felt an answering tightening in her lower belly. He looked pained, like he was struggling for control. She smiled and reached out her hand and splayed her fingers across the hard muscles of his chest.
    “Don’t stop.” She leaned forward and lightly sucked the curve of his neck where it met his shoulder. She ran the tip of her tongue across his skin, reveling in the salty flavor.
    His sharp intake of breath was her only warning. Suddenly she was in his arms and he was striding down the hall toward the master bedroom.
    When he reached the bed, he stripped off the covers with