Page 28 of Erik's Salvation
It was only that thought that had the dust of reality settling in the air around them.
They didn’t fit. They wouldneverfit. Because he wasn’t capable of being what she needed. He wasn’t capable of being what anyone needed.
Like her touch suddenly burned him, he lowered her to her feet and stepped away. “Jesus. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Fuck, there wereso manyreasons why he shouldn’t have done that. What the hell was wrong with him?
At her silence, he forced himself to gather the strength to look at her. He regretted it instantly. Her lips were red, her hair ruffled, and her eyes hot and hooded.
“I—” She stopped, as if she didn’t have words.
He wasn’t sure if he expected more fight from her. Maybe anger tinged with hurt. He got none of those things.
Instead, she stepped back. “I’ll go now.”
She shoved her feet into her wet shoes, lifted the bag, her keys, and his umbrella, and left.
And he remained, standing there, forcing the chaos that was his mind to accept that he couldn’t have her. That she’d never be his.
CHAPTER9
“Let me get this straight—the man gives you a kiss that almost has you orgasming there against the wall, then tells you not to come back?”
Hannah swirled the vodka soda in her glass, letting the truth in Brigid’s summary sink in. “Yep.”
Brigid’s jaw dropped, while Henry just looked confused. She’d dragged her friends to the bar because she needed her drinking buddies and their sympathetic ears. Two days had passed since the kiss, and she was still struggling to comprehend how good it was.
“Oh, and that’s not the only thing.” Hannah held up a finger. The very same finger she’d jammed against Erik’s chest. “I woke the next morning to a knock on my door. It was Erik’s mechanic, telling me he’d fixed my car and returned it to my house. And he refused to bill me, saying it was ‘taken care of.’”
On one side, it was a huge weight off her shoulders, knowing she had a working car and the bill had been paid—but, on the other, it wasn’t Erik’s responsibility. She’d pay him back. It may take her a while, but she would.
Henry sighed. “I need to get myself a sexy neighbor with money coming out his ears.”
“No, you don’t. The man’s mood swings are giving me whiplash. He’s nice one second, an asshole the next, then kissing me like it’s our last day on Earth.”
No man should be able to kiss like that. Like he was claiming her. God, she still trembled at the very thought of it.
She gulped down some more vodka soda. Alcohol tended to make blood sugar drop, so she needed to take it easy. That meant no overindulging while she felt sorry for herself.
Tatum’s was a bar in Redwood that was attached to a hotel. There were other bars, but this one tended to be less busy and a bit more upper class, something she liked to pretend to be every so often.
“So you haven’t seen him since?” Henry asked, sipping his martini, eyes wide like he was watching a movie unfold. It wasn’t really a movie, more of a train wreck.
“Oh, I’ve seen him.” Brief glimpses when he’d occasionally step outside his house. “Yesterday when he got home, he was all sweaty with a bag over his shoulder and some boxing gloves poking out.”
It was the sexiest damn sight she’d ever seen. Her ovaries had gone into overdrive.
“And you said he’s a government contractor, but the actual title of his job is classified?” Brigid asked.
“Yup.”
“Maybe that’s code for wife and kid elsewhere.” Brigid cringed as the words left her mouth. “That would explain him being attracted to you but barely able to touch you.”
Her heart thrashed against her ribs. Would he? “No. He can be an asshole, but he’s not at dirty scumbag level.”
At least, she was pretty sure he wasn’t.
“I didn’t think Peter Howser was at scumbag level,” Henry sneered, lifting his beer to his mouth. “Yet there he was.”
