Ashlynn’s face pinched in confusion.

“It’s my responsibility to get right with him.”

Clearly she wasn’t happy with that information, but Leyton owed Max that much. The man had saved his life, given him a job, trusted him, loved him like family. It was the least he owed Max.

“Why’re you so loyal?” she asked, hands on her hips.

Leyton had known the question would eventually arise, and he only had one answer for it. “Because he saved my life.”

“By bein’ your friend?”

“By bein’ my family,” he corrected.

“After he killed your father?” she countered.

Feeling the same surge of defensiveness he always felt when it came to Max, Leyton took a deep breath. “He saved my life.”

“Because your father was gonna kill you,” she said, as though she knew it all.

Leyton stared at her for a moment. “Because I was gonna kill myself.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly. He knew she remembered that night he’d arrived at her parents’ house. With two black eyes, a broken nose, and a shattered cheekbone, he’d been pretty fucked up. But that had been the least of his worries that night, only no one knew that but him and Max. It was never mentioned again that Leyton had been planning to take his own life, and for that, he was grateful.

She seemed to consider that for a moment before nodding her head. “Call him.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Her forehead creased, and Leyton fought the urge to sigh. This was much more difficult than simply giving in. For him, if it were mere lust that drove him to her, he could’ve dealt with the consequences. But the issue was far more complex, and he didn’t think Ashlynn even realized it.

“Do you love him?” Leyton asked, walking over to the decanter of scotch that was sitting on a table near the window.

“Love who? My brother?”

“Jase.”

He didn’t turn to look at her, but he knew she was glaring back at him. He could feel her eyes boring holes into the back of his head.

“I don’t think that’s relevant,” she finally said.

Leyton retrieved the drink he’d poured and then walked to the sofa. He nodded toward the opposite one, encouraging her to take a seat, but she didn’t sit, so neither did he. Instead, he confronted her head on. If he was expected to talk to Max, to put his own emotions on the line, it was time he and Ashlynn got a few things straight.

“Do you love Jase?” he asked again, not accepting her previous evasive response as an answer.

This time, since he was looking at her, he noticed the sadness in her eyes. “Why does that matter?” she asked softly.

“He loves you,” Leyton declared.

“He does not,” she disputed. “You don’t know him well enough to determine that.”

“I think I know him pretty damn well,” Leyton refuted, remembering last night.

“Because he let you fuck him? You think that you know him?”

He’d definitely pushed a button, inciting her defenses. If he wanted to move this forward, he had to explain. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“So? And that changes anything?”

It was obvious she wasn’t going to give him a straight answer, but Leyton wouldn’t be able to move forward until he had one.

“I’m not willin’ to talk to Max if you’re just wantin’ a fly-by-night fling, Ash.”

“Who said I did?”

Leyton cocked his head to the side and waited for her to elaborate.

“Sex, Leyton. That’s all I need.”

He knew better than that, but he chose to keep his mouth shut.

“Do you have a problem with sex?” she asked. “Do you think you have to love someone to sleep with them?”

“No,” he told her simply. “I don’t.” Figuring he needed to put a piece of himself out there in order to get one back from her, he decided to tell her how he saw it. “But when it comes to you, it won’t just be sex. Not for me.”

“Are you tryin’ to tell me you love me?” Ashlynn frowned. “Don’t be naïve, Leyton.”

“I do love you,” he admitted, swallowing hard as he did.

Ashlynn pivoted and walked back to her desk. “Forget I said anything. Clearly you and I aren’t on the same page here.”

Leyton could’ve easily walked away, and he knew Ashlynn would’ve let him. He could’ve taken his loyalty with him and walked right out of the room, never looking back, and Ashlynn would’ve never brought it up again. She was stubborn like that.

But that wasn’t the way he was programmed.

Yes, Leyton loved her. Was it easy to say? Fuck no. But it was the truth, and he had never lied to her before, and he damn sure wasn’t going to start now.

Downing the last of his single malt, he placed the empty tumbler on the table and walked around behind the sofa, closer to the windows. Rather than adjust his suit jacket, he took it off completely and laid it over the arm of the sofa as he moved toward her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, pretending to be interested in whatever was on her laptop screen as she bent over her desk.

Unhooking the cufflinks on his shirt, he placed them in his pocket while she glanced his way, eyeing him speculatively. One by one, he released the buttons on his dress shirt, then let the fabric hang open as he came to stand behind her.

Gripping Ashlynn’s hips, he spun her so that she was facing him, her ass on the edge of her desk.

“We’ve all got scars,” he said softly.

Her eyes widened as she stared back at his chest. He was laying himself bare for her, letting her see all of him. He’d made a habit of ensuring people didn’t get close enough to see his scars—not those on the outside and certainly not those on the inside. Sure, Ashlynn had glimpsed his once upon a time, but he’d made a point never to let that mistake happen again.

They all had their own scars, their own painful reminders. While hers were on the inside, his weren’t. Not all of them, anyway.

“Touch me,” he instructed.

Her eyes glazed slightly, and she bit her plump lower lip.

Taking a step closer, he forced her legs wide as he pushed her skirt up her thighs, allowing him to insert himself between her thighs. Shrugging out of the shirt, he dropped it onto the credenza behind him. “I said touch me.”

He watched as her throat worked when she swallowed hard, but again, she made no move to do as he’d told her to.

Reaching for her wrists, he placed her palms flat against his chest, directly over the old scars from the cigarettes his father used to put out on him. Leaning down, he brushed her ear with his lips. “Touch me, Ashlynn. I won’t tell you again.”

Her fingernails dug into his pecs, but she didn’t move her hands when he released her wrists.

“Why’re you doin’ this?” she whispered.

“Because I know it’s easier for you if you’re in control. I know what you’ve been through, understand that you want to be the one holding the reins. But, little girl, that’s not how this works.”

“It did last night,” she retorted.

“I hadn’t made up my mind what I wanted last night, so I let you lead.”

“But now you know?” she asked doubtfully, her eyes locked with his.

“Now I know,” he confirmed. “And I want you to touch me.”

“Why?”

He met her gaze. “Because this is what you get. Scars and all.”

Her smooth palms glided across his chest, down his stomach, but before she could go lower, he shook his head. Surprisingly, she changed the direction of her hands, lightly caressing his chest, his shoulders, down his biceps. Her fingers grazed all of his scars while her eyes followed their path. When she eased out from between him and the desk, he didn’t try and stop her.

“Your father did this?” she asked softly.

“Yes.”

The moment she was behind him, he closed his eyes, content to feel her explore him. Soon, her lips joined her hands as she kissed his back. It was clear she was tracing the scars with her tongue, but he didn’t let his mind wander elsewhere. He had long ago stopped living in the past. For years he’d been embarrassed by what his father had done to him, what he’d let the man do. But he’d learned from the experiences and learned to accept who he was.