Page 20 of Under Control

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered, needing answers.

Carrick flashed her an expression that screamed he might be doubting her sanity. He tightened his grip on her, telling her things that he clearly couldn’t say.

She knew that feeling.

Absently, she ran her hand up his biceps and shoulder toward his neck and the rough stubble on his cheek. A tattoo that clearly sprawled across his chest poked out of the V-neck of his long-sleeved shirt—some sort of dark writing, but she couldn’t see more than a few edges. It was a tattoo that was as mysterious as he was. In that moment, gazing back up into his dark blue eyes, a strange feeling overtook her. She wanted him to kiss her more than anything. There was just something so raw between them in that moment. She needed to feel himcloser. She needed something to believe in.

But he never would. He was too damn professional.

She bit her lip, pleading and begging him with her eyes. Surrounded by the bathroom fog, she angled her chin up toward him.

Please, Carrick.

He didn’t miss her movements when she shifted in his arms, but he seemed to snap out of it. Blinking rapidly, as though he were trying to regain consciousness, Carrick reached to the towel bar, grabbed a towel and roughly shoved it at her.

“Checkout’s in twenty,” he growled, turning on his heels.

As he left her alone in the bathroom, tears welled in her eyes once more. His clear rejection drove hard pain up her chest, making it hard to breathe. Alarm bells rang through her mind and a realization washed over her. She knew nothing about the man. In that split second, Danica made a promise to herself. She would gain everything she could from him, but she would not, under any circumstances, let herself become vulnerable with him again.

It was too damn dangerous.

Chapter Eight

Danica

The passenger side of the red pickup truck wasn’t uncomfortable, but Danica sure was. Right then, after what had happened in the bathroom, sitting beside Carrick was the last place she wanted to be. She crinkled her nose as the bright Northern Californian midday sun shone through the windshield and washed over her face. They’d been driving—in silence—for hours through the interior wine country.

“So, ready to talk now?” His casual tone nearly toppled her over. “I’m going to have to make a decision soon…and a plan.”

Unfortunately for him, every limb in her body still screamed from what had happened in the bathroom—how he’d come so close then abruptly torn himself away. It was damn clear to her that it was a metaphor for whatever it was between them—that the piece of her that had even been thinking about opening up to him had just as abruptly slammed close.

So she clenched her teeth, looked out of the window and tried to figure out how to respond.

Carrick broke the brief silence. “Well, look at this. I almost forgot. Reach back and grab that small black bag behind my seat.”

She turned, saw a black fabric handle and reached back to grab it.What is he up to?Bringing it forward, she ran her fingers over the zipper.

“Open it.”

She flickered her gaze up, trying to read him. He never let on much. So, she opened the bag, curious as a kitten. She couldn’t conceal a gasp when she realized what was inside.

Pulling out her white ice skates, she burst, “I thought I’d never see these again!”

A wide, self-satisfied smirk crossed his lips. “We couldn’t allow that.”

She ran her fingers along the metal blades, clearly realizing how much care he had taken. He’d cleaned her skates so they wouldn’t get rusty.

“Thanks,” she replied softly, putting the skates back in the bag and tucking them back beside her backpack. “My mom bought those for me.”

She almost allowed herself to feel the kindness of the moment, until she realized it was just another ploy to butter her up. He needed something from her.

Carrick continued, seeming to know he had her just where he wanted her, “I can’t figure out why all this bullshit just to get you down to LA. What’s the big fucking deal about this wedding?”

Heat began to rise up Danica’s neck, but she wanted to remain circumspect. However, something about Carrick’s demands made it hard. She always struggled to remain cool under intensity like that. She was just too sensitive.

“It’s not about the wedding, Carrick,” Danica retorted. “It’s about the Russian community coming together, andwhois going to be there—who he wants to see me. That’s how these things work—and it’s always been like this.”

And that’s why I can’t escape.

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