deeply those blue eyes and those thick, sculpted forearms had etched themselves into my mind. It was only when I saw him again in the flesh that I realized how much I’d been replaying the memories... and the memories didn’t do him justice. He’d seemed big outdoors, at the park, but here in this confined space he seemed huge. He was wearing an eggshell-blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up, and the contrast between the blue and the tanned, hard flesh of his arms was amazing. The attraction was so strong it was almost frightening, as if just looking at him short-circuited every rational part of my brain. Did I actually dare to touch him?
He shifted his weight on the seat, about to push the door open and climb out. Did I dare not to?
I reached out and brushed my fingertips against his shoulder. He was incredible: so solid, powerful muscle bunched and taut under warm skin. I felt him stiffen at my touch…and then he relaxed. Only minutely and he let out a little hiss of frustration as it happened, as if he didn’t want to relax, as if his body was obeying me despite his wishes. He was fighting it: I’d bought myself a second or two, then he’d be out of the car and gone.
“I can’t sleep,” I blurted.
He said nothing. He was still gripping the handle and the door was open a half-inch. I could see a couple of Secret Service agents turn towards the car, unsure whether my visitor was about to leave.
“I can’t go out,” I said. “I’m not just scared: I can’t. I can’t make my feet move to walk towards a crowd. I can’t function like this. And it’s getting worse.”
He was still facing away from me but, if I angled my head just right, I could glimpse his reflection in the door’s glass. His jaw was set and I could see that massive chest rise and fall as he drew in angry, shuddering breaths. I knew I should be scared of him, especially when he was in this mood. He could twist around and lash out with one of those big fists and just one hit would be enough to do me serious damage. But I wasn’t scared. I don’t know why, but I had this deep, unshakeable certainty that he’d never, ever hurt me.
“I’m sorry I dug into your background,” I told him. I meant it. As soon as I’d seen the pain in his eyes, I’d regretted it... and I’d just wanted to take that pain away. “But I needed to know if you could help me. I think you can.”
Still he didn’t turn around. But in the reflection in the glass, I saw him close his eyes.
“I have nightmares and, when I wake up, I can still feel them. I can feel the knife going in or the bullet hitting me or the rope they’re using to strangle me.” I swallowed. “Sometimes, they do worse things. I wake up and I can still feel the guy on top of me—”
He suddenly snapped around to face me, eyes open, and gave me a look of pure, murderous rage that made the hint I’d seen before seem like nothing. It was so fierce, so uncontrolled and base, I felt it as a scalding heat against my skin. But again, it didn’t feel frightening because it didn’t feel like it was me he was mad at. It was like walking into a nuclear blast, gale-force winds made of fire that would annihilate everything in their path... but the energy was directed around me, slamming into the faceless men who pursued me and turning them to ash. The mere idea of someone hurting me, violating me, even in a dream, was enough to make him want to kill.
And that was exactly what I needed. It was the first time since the park that I hadn’t felt totally alone. I stared right back at him as all that rage flooded around me and prayed that he understood.
Kian let out a long, slow breath as his anger cooled, his eyes never leaving mine. And just for a second, I saw it in his gaze: he did understand.
But then he pushed open the door, bathing me in night air that felt shockingly cold. He was out of the car so fast I barely had time to react. I lunged across the seat after him, already missing the
He shifted his weight on the seat, about to push the door open and climb out. Did I dare not to?
I reached out and brushed my fingertips against his shoulder. He was incredible: so solid, powerful muscle bunched and taut under warm skin. I felt him stiffen at my touch…and then he relaxed. Only minutely and he let out a little hiss of frustration as it happened, as if he didn’t want to relax, as if his body was obeying me despite his wishes. He was fighting it: I’d bought myself a second or two, then he’d be out of the car and gone.
“I can’t sleep,” I blurted.
He said nothing. He was still gripping the handle and the door was open a half-inch. I could see a couple of Secret Service agents turn towards the car, unsure whether my visitor was about to leave.
“I can’t go out,” I said. “I’m not just scared: I can’t. I can’t make my feet move to walk towards a crowd. I can’t function like this. And it’s getting worse.”
He was still facing away from me but, if I angled my head just right, I could glimpse his reflection in the door’s glass. His jaw was set and I could see that massive chest rise and fall as he drew in angry, shuddering breaths. I knew I should be scared of him, especially when he was in this mood. He could twist around and lash out with one of those big fists and just one hit would be enough to do me serious damage. But I wasn’t scared. I don’t know why, but I had this deep, unshakeable certainty that he’d never, ever hurt me.
“I’m sorry I dug into your background,” I told him. I meant it. As soon as I’d seen the pain in his eyes, I’d regretted it... and I’d just wanted to take that pain away. “But I needed to know if you could help me. I think you can.”
Still he didn’t turn around. But in the reflection in the glass, I saw him close his eyes.
“I have nightmares and, when I wake up, I can still feel them. I can feel the knife going in or the bullet hitting me or the rope they’re using to strangle me.” I swallowed. “Sometimes, they do worse things. I wake up and I can still feel the guy on top of me—”
He suddenly snapped around to face me, eyes open, and gave me a look of pure, murderous rage that made the hint I’d seen before seem like nothing. It was so fierce, so uncontrolled and base, I felt it as a scalding heat against my skin. But again, it didn’t feel frightening because it didn’t feel like it was me he was mad at. It was like walking into a nuclear blast, gale-force winds made of fire that would annihilate everything in their path... but the energy was directed around me, slamming into the faceless men who pursued me and turning them to ash. The mere idea of someone hurting me, violating me, even in a dream, was enough to make him want to kill.
And that was exactly what I needed. It was the first time since the park that I hadn’t felt totally alone. I stared right back at him as all that rage flooded around me and prayed that he understood.
Kian let out a long, slow breath as his anger cooled, his eyes never leaving mine. And just for a second, I saw it in his gaze: he did understand.
But then he pushed open the door, bathing me in night air that felt shockingly cold. He was out of the car so fast I barely had time to react. I lunged across the seat after him, already missing the
Similar Books
