Page 11 of Her Sort of Scoundrel
What are you trying to do, seduce me?
Ice poured down her spine as the memory of his words from that day long ago echoed in her head.
“What do you want, Dash?” she demanded with a light push against the hard wall of his chest.
“To talk—”
“No, that’s not it.” She pushed, her palm warming from the heat of his body. “You’ve barely spoken since you crashed into my party.”
For a moment, she thought she’d done it. Sparked to life a bit of the man she used to know.
He stared down at where her hand pressed against his shirt front.
Fiona felt his heartbeat thud, strong and fast, beneath her palm. She did have an effect on him, and that gave her some measure of satisfaction.
Now if he’d just show her.
“I’m sorry for crashing into your party.”
“Stop apologizing!” Fiona threw up her hands and spun away from him.
“What else do you want me to do?” He circled her upper arm in his hand to keep her from stepping away.
Fiona turned back to face him. “Tell the truth. You want something. That much I can sense, though this obsequious version of you is far less charming than you think it is.”
“I’m not trying to charm you.”
“No, of course not. That might put you right back into the awkward situation you found yourself in two years ago.”
When she didn’t approach again, he tugged her closer. She let him.
“You said you did not wish to discuss that day, but let’s.”
Fiona closed her eyes and steeled herself, clenching her jaw, and telling her damned watering-pot tendencies not to dare rear their head.
“I wanted something you did not,” she managed, though she’d tensed her jaw so tightly it nearly hurt to get the words out.
“Is that what you think?” He sounded far more shocked than he should have, seeing as he’d been the one to reject her.
“It’s what you said.” Fiona glanced down at where he held her and considered yanking her arm from his grip.
“I never imagined you could be such a fool.”
“How dare you?” Fiona did pull away from him, but it only caused him to take a step closer.
“I want you,” he rasped. “I always have.”
For a moment, the world seemed to tilt off kilter. She shot a hand up to her cheeks because they were damp, and she swiped angrily at a tear that had escaped.
In her blurry vision, the warm, spice-scented tower of the man she’d tried so hard to loathe drew closer.
Then, curse him, he wrapped her in his arms. And it was bliss.
No one had held her in so long. Not like this—to offer comfort simply because she needed it. But he was the last person she wanted to pity her.
“Let me go,” she said weakly, quietly.
He moved to obey her half-hearted demand, and she gripped his shirt front to keep him near.
