She kneels to pick up the lotion she dropped, and I freeze.
I've seen a lot of wounds and scars in my time. I don't know that I've seen anything close to what's on her shoulder, peeking out of the tank top.
"What the fuck happened?" I crouch behind her and instinctively touch the knotted scars on the back of her shoulder.
She knocks my hand away. "None of your damn business." Katya starts to rise. I grip her arm, keeping her in place. My knees drop to either side of her thighs to aid my balance. Too interested in the old wound, for once I don't notice our bodies touching or how close I am to her.
"This is why you limp," I guess. I run my fingers down her back, following the feel of the scarring through her shirt. It stretches diagonally from her left shoulder to her right hip.
She's stiff, tense. "You noticed?"
"I notice everything. What the fuck did this?"
There's a brief hesitation then Katya tugs her arm free. She pulls the back of her tank top over her head, exposing the damage.
Speechless, I rest a palm on her back. The scar tissue is as wide as my extended hand, from the tip of my pinkie to the tip of my thump. It covers most of her back. The skin is warm and soft despite how ugly it looks.
"There was a fire in the family ski lodge when I was nine," she said tersely. "It's what killed our mother. I got trapped under a super heated steel beam. Cut right through me. Spent six months on my belly in the burn unit."
"And I thought getting shot was bad." Knowing this doesn't make up for her being a bitch. It's giving me a little more insight into why she's got this shell around her.
"I'm sure it is." Her voice has a slightly breathless quality in it, one I'm not expecting to hear. Almost like she's … affected by my touch.
Which makes no sense. This woman hates me with a passion I've never reserved for anything. My gaze travels down her narrow, feminine shoulders to her shape. Trim torso, tucked waist, perfectly rounded hips. She smells more of her own scent and less of other products this evening, a smell I find myself leaning forward to breathe more of.
Shit. No. She's not remotely interested in me, and I'm not in her. At least, I will continue to tell myself this.
"I can't believe you noticed." She sounds upset.
"The scars? This is the worst shit I've ever seen."
Katya pulls her tank back on, pushing my hand off her back. She twists to glare at me, face red. "That is the rudest thing you've said yet!"