Page 39 of Double Standards
Axel’s lips twitch, revealing the barest hint of a smile. My heart stutters because it’s the first time I’ve caught the glimpse of warmth behind the cold exterior.
“Something like that.” He shrugs, feet shifting nervously like a kid caught in the act. “He might have made me see sense.” His lips lift ever so slightly, a glint of white shining through those perfect lips. But I can see the hesitation, the anxious light that glistens in his eyes.
If there’s a time to clear the air, it’s now. Axel seems… calm enough to listen.
“It wasn’t what it looked like,” I assure, reaching out to take his hand. His palms open and accept mine, warm and steady. His eyes rake over me, protective but cautious. I sense a tug, a battle between pulling away and holding on.
Under the streetlamps’ golden glow, the barriers around him begin to crumble—walls built from years of pain and solitude, protection from the rest of the world falls away.
“I know.” His voice is heavy with understanding as he turns, hand in mine, leading me down the wooded path.
We walk in silence, the wind threading through the branches above. Axel towers over me with his six-foot-two body of tense muscle. His brow furrows with something close to peace.
“Daniels came to me.” My voice breaks the quiet. “He threw cash at me to drop you as a client. He wanted me off the case.” I can hear the shake in my voice, the worry that sets in as Axel’s glare burns sharp. But slowly the flame softens, shifting to amusement.
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I fired you.” He bumps myshoulder with a playful grin that sends flutters through my stomach. This lighter side of Axel is unsettling, yet oddly comforting. While it should make me nervous, instead I feel like this side is only reserved for certain people. And I’m starting to think maybe, I’m one of those individuals.
“Axel.” I raise a brow, half-scolding, to match his ease.
“I’m joking.”
I hum, eyes locked on the path ahead. “Though he seemed pretty pleased with himself. Guess he thought he’d got to me.”
“Why offer you money?” Axel’s voice is firmer now.
I pull my hand away, heat flashing across my skin where his fingers linger.
“I don’t know.” I snap. “I don’t need the money, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Without warning, Axel spins me toward a tree, pressing me against its rough bark. My breath catches in my throat, the air draining from my lungs, replaced by the sharp scent of his cologne.
His smile is thin—almost cruel—but there’s a gentleness in the way his hands grip my waist. “Then what do you need?” he breathes.
I press my hands against his chest, tilting my head up, stopping just shy of his lips. “I know better than to tell the likes of you what I want.”
He steps back, cool air rushing between us. Relief floods me because I can finally breathe.
But Axel isn’t done. We continue walking, his pace more determined now. “Why were you storming out of your apartment?”
The park’s edge nears and nerves spike. It shouldn’t bother me to be seen with Axel—I’m his lawyer after all—but I can’t shift the unease.
“Coop and I fought,” I finally answer.
“About?”
“Doesn’t matter.” I shake off the anger. Axel doesn’t need my mess.
“It does to me.” His hand grabs my forearm, firm but gentle. Then he moves a hand to cup my cheek. The streetlight’s glow softens his dark eyes as he searches my gaze.
“Are you hurt?” Concern laces his question and my heart stutters under the gentleness of his thumb tracing softly over my skin.
My hands move automatically, guided more by instinct than thought, sliding over his—warm, rough, and trembling with the restraint he’s barely holding on to. I curl my fingers around his and ease them down, slow and deliberate, like calming a storm with touch alone. The contact sends a pulse of something sharp and electric through me, but I don’t flinch. I just hold on until his grip loosens beneath mine.
“It’s not like that.”
He sighs. “Would you tell me if it was something else?” he accuses.
I look up, startled by the question. I don’t even know how to answer that. Axel isn’t exactly top of the list of people I’d confide in, but something tells me I could. If I wanted to.
