Page 103 of Into These Eyes
She’s leaving early. A jolt of disappointment spears through my middle. I’ve missed our morning ritual. Missed the way we stand side-by-side, me purposely positioned in between her and the cutlery drawer. The way she always touches me to get to that drawer. The way she smells so warm and cosy straight from her bed. How we gaze into each other’s eyes and reveal what we have planned for the day. It might only last a few minutes, but it’s enough to make sure I’m out of bed on time every morning. Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve never experienced a better start to the day.
Now, as pathetic as it is, a sense of deprivation washes over me.
“Gotta go,” she mutters as she hurries past the breakfast bar without glancing my way.
“Good luck,” I call after her.
Not even a glimpse of eye contact. Worse than deprivation, that feels like punishment. And there’s only one reason she’s different this morning. Because of a kiss that didn’t happen. Bit by bit she’s been letting her guard down, letting me see the real her, not just the woman who’s strong, but the woman who’s warm and vulnerable. We’d connected on a deeper level last night and I fucking know she felt it too. She’d wanted that kiss as much as I did.
When I hear the laundry door close, I turn to the coffee machine, check the bean situation, and press the button. While the loud rumble fills the kitchen, I try to shake off my irrational reaction to her cold shoulder treatment.
“Sorry.”
I whirl around to find her standing there, her coffee and bag nowhere to be seen, her hands clutching at each other as if she doesn’t know what to do with them.
“I … I meant to say thank you, for last night,” she says, her eyes just as indecisive as her hands.
My lips twitch. So, while I’ve been standing here thinking about her, she’s been busy thinking about me.
She cares. Idomean something to her. Otherwise, why bother coming back?
“You don’t have to thank me for that,” I tell her. “I enjoyed learning about your family, seeing how cute you were as a kid … and still are.”
I expect her to hurry off to work now she’s said what she came back to say, but she hesitates, her eyes flitting over my entire body before they finally land on mine. She takes a couple of steps closer, allowing me to see what I couldn’t before. Like always, she’s the picture of professionalism, but she can’t hide the heavy fatigue weighing her down this morning.
“That’s not why I wanted to thank you. And it’s not why I’m sorry.” Now her lack of sleep is coming through in the huskiness of her voice. As sexy as it sounds, it proves she can barely muster enough energy to speak.
I shake my head, and take a few steps toward her, aware that she no longer seems to be in a hurry to get to work. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. And whatever it is you’re trying to thank me for, I don’t need it.”
“It doesn’t matter whether youneedit or not.” Her eyes flash with defiance. “Youdeserveit. So, thank you for putting me to bed last night. I feel like an idiot for falling asleep at the table, but I appreciate you checking on me. And—”
“Jamie—”
“Not finished,” she says sternly. “And I’m sorry … about the phone call.”
I’m stunned she’s mentioned it. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t be. I hadn’t left any doubt in her mind about my reaction to that call. I’d stormed off to my bedroom like a child. In mydefence, I’d been crushed when that hateful piece of technology interrupted us. And I can’t tell her that the moment I entered my room, I threw open my sketchpad and drew the desire in her eyes, the heat that made me certain she wanted me to kiss her.
Before I can ask why she feels the need to apologise for that phone call, she sways on her feet. Actuallysways.
That’s it. There’s no way in hell she’s driving to work. I’m here to protect her. Whether that involves keeping her safe from an outside threat or from herself, it makes no difference. She’s not going to like it. She’ll have to relinquish that control she holds onto like a barrier. Too bad, because when it comes to her protection, I’m in charge.
“Give me your phone,” I demand, holding out my hand, waiting for her to flare up. I haven’t spoken to her like this before, but I need to make it clear who’s calling the shots right now.
Her tired eyes widen. “Excuse me?”
As I move toward her with commanding purpose, she retreats from the kitchen until her back hits the hallway wall. I’m right in her space, bracing myself with a hand beside her head, my other still out, waiting. “Unlock it and give it to me. I’m booking you an Uber.”
“I can drive myself like I always do,” she states flatly.
“You’re fucking exhausted, Jamie. You shouldn’t even be going to work, but I know you won’t let your clients down, so there’s no point trying to keep you home. The best I can do is make damn sure you get there and back safely. Now give it to me.”
Her jaw tenses as she glares up at me. “It’s in the car.”
“You’re breaking your rule.”
“What?”
“About lying,” I remind her. “You’d never leave it somewhere you can’t hear the bloody thing.” I lean away a little, casting mygaze down her body. She needs to know I’m fucking serious. “I’m happy to search for it.”
