Page 25 of Broken Trust
Her lashes were clumped with the last of the tears she refused to let fall.
Stubborn, fierce, beautiful woman.
His arms didn’t want to give her up, but he forced them to loosen.
When he started to shift her from his lap, her hand came up to fasten around his shirt. The tight grip might as well be around his heart.
Fuck, if they started this, he wouldn’t be able to stop it.
Gently, he hooked his knuckle beneath her dainty chin and lifted her face to his. A force bigger than him made him dip his head. Before his lips could crash over hers, she slipped from his lap to the mattress.
He kept one palm at her nape like a claim or a promise—or both. “You’re right. Not like this.” If he was taking her to bed and showing her what two years away from her did to a man, she wouldn’t be crying tears. She’d be crying his name.
She didn’t respond, but she didn’t move away from his touch either.
“You slept what—two hours last night?” His voice pitched low.
She scrubbed her hands over her face. “I got enough.”
He angled her chin so she had to look at him. “You’re running on fumes and pride. Not a viable fuel mix.”
“I’ll manage.” The glimmer in the deep green pools of her eyes had his gut clenching with desire.
“Until you face-plant into your keyboard. Again.”
Her lips flattened. “That never happened.”
“I’m pretty sure it did, right after you claimed you were resting your eyes that day.”
A spark lit in her gaze, the first sign she was climbing out of the pit and back into herself.
Christ, he wanted to capture those sweet rose-pink lips and make her gasp.
He cast around for some distraction from the throb of his cock behind his fly. “You seemed really worried about the dog. Did you have a dog?”
She hunched her shoulders, and she shook her head. “I never thought I could have a dog with my lifestyle. I’m never in one city for long. Short leases, odd hours. Dogs need stability. But I always thought I’d like to have a dog someday…when I settle down.”
“What kind of dog?” He stretched his hand along her nape, stroking his fingertips over her soft skin.
“Something small. Cute. Fluffy.” The tears in her voice started to fade. “A girl dog.”
“Got it. Cute, fluffy, bossy.”
“Why would it be bossy?”
“Any dog you own will be bossy.”
Her eyes warmed and color crept back into her cheeks. He only planned to take her mind off what just happened in Canada,not paint a picture in his own head of Elin curled up on the sofa with her bare feet tucked under her and a puffball of attitude snoring on her knees.
Or of his hand resting on both of them. But once the image dropped into his mind, he couldn’t shake it.
He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. For a second, he just let himselflook.The op of the last hour dimmed until all he could see was her mouth—soft and stubborn—and the green fire in her eyes that he could fall into and never surface from.
He let his fingertips drift lower along the elegant line of her throat. Her pulse jumped.
Long seconds ticked by. Neither spoke. Neither moved.
And the air pulsed with the kind of tension he knew ended with her naked beneath him.
