there softly. She closed her eyes. Slowly he slid his hands down her arms and wrapped them around her lower back, south of the scars that had taken control of her life. He smelled of soap, laundry detergent, and something decidedly male.
Like a desert flower after the rain, Harper drowned in the contact. Her chest expanded, and she breathed deeper. Inexplicably, she felt safe in the arms of a man she hardly knew.
* * *
What was it about this woman? She tugged at him in a way no one had in a really long time. His thoughts wandered to his one disastrous attempt at a long-term relationship. A game changer for his love life ever since. Not once, since then, had he considered any kind of permanent relationship. Until now. Trent pulled her closer to him and took a deep breath.
The way her body fit against his perfectly, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, was so incredibly good it scared him. Lowering his head until his chin rested on hers, he appreciated every curve and line pressed against him. Her scent reminded him of summer air, vanilla, and strawberries. Fresh, clean, and mouthwatering. He felt her warmth against his chest, absorbed the slow and steady rise and fall of her breath. Christ, songs had been written about this very moment—and wasn’t he getting all poetic and shit?
She still hadn’t moved. Maybe he should just let go, but he really didn’t want this moment to end. Then he felt it. The smallest movement from Harper as just one of her fingers gently threaded through the belt loop of his jeans.
The small gesture of trust almost brought him to his knees. He swallowed hard as his hand slowly drifted up and down her back. The heat from that single finger meant more than the most passionate embrace. When she sighed and sank against him, he sent up a prayer of thanks to whoever might be out in the universe listening.
Her dark waterfall of hair was soft under his cheek as he pulled her closer, clenching his jaw and swallowing hard. Why did she affect him so much? His feelings were running wild, but was it just empathy for what she’d been through, or was it something more? Determined to keep his shit together, he swallowed hard. She had no clue how much that one finger on his belt had him churned up inside. Now was not the time to pussy out, so he tried hard to cool his emotions. Harper trusted him with the most significant part of her. How on earth was he going to live up to that responsibility? How was he going to prove to her that her faith in him was justified and that her courage wasn’t wasted?
Wasn’t this what his own tattoo was all about? It was part of him. Fortitude or courage being one of the four cardinal virtues shown in Paradiso in the Divine Comedy . The ability to confront fear and intimidation. And yet what did he know about it? She was the one standing in his studio sharing the toughest parts of her life with a stranger.
“I don’t want to move.” The whispered words drew him from his thoughts.
“So don’t.” He pressed a soft kiss into her hair.
“No one has hugged me in a very long time,” she said, pulling away to study him with those soulful eyes. “Thank you.”
“Any time. Tattoos and hugs. I’m great at them both. Just don’t tell the guys out there or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
He tried to sort through his feelings for Harper, shaking his head to clear it. The idea of doing her ink excited him as an artist. As a man, he appreciated the way she’d fit in his arms. And shit, didn’t it make him want to pound on his chest that she’d come to him for help. But if all he felt was compassion for the victim she’d once been, then he shouldn’t be holding her like this, no matter how perfect it felt.
* * *
Five hours later, as he nursed a shot of whiskey, he still couldn’t get Harper out of his head. The whiskey burned as it slid down Trent’s throat, a necessary evil to ward off the chills from drawing up Harper’s back. He had felt her
Like a desert flower after the rain, Harper drowned in the contact. Her chest expanded, and she breathed deeper. Inexplicably, she felt safe in the arms of a man she hardly knew.
* * *
What was it about this woman? She tugged at him in a way no one had in a really long time. His thoughts wandered to his one disastrous attempt at a long-term relationship. A game changer for his love life ever since. Not once, since then, had he considered any kind of permanent relationship. Until now. Trent pulled her closer to him and took a deep breath.
The way her body fit against his perfectly, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, was so incredibly good it scared him. Lowering his head until his chin rested on hers, he appreciated every curve and line pressed against him. Her scent reminded him of summer air, vanilla, and strawberries. Fresh, clean, and mouthwatering. He felt her warmth against his chest, absorbed the slow and steady rise and fall of her breath. Christ, songs had been written about this very moment—and wasn’t he getting all poetic and shit?
She still hadn’t moved. Maybe he should just let go, but he really didn’t want this moment to end. Then he felt it. The smallest movement from Harper as just one of her fingers gently threaded through the belt loop of his jeans.
The small gesture of trust almost brought him to his knees. He swallowed hard as his hand slowly drifted up and down her back. The heat from that single finger meant more than the most passionate embrace. When she sighed and sank against him, he sent up a prayer of thanks to whoever might be out in the universe listening.
Her dark waterfall of hair was soft under his cheek as he pulled her closer, clenching his jaw and swallowing hard. Why did she affect him so much? His feelings were running wild, but was it just empathy for what she’d been through, or was it something more? Determined to keep his shit together, he swallowed hard. She had no clue how much that one finger on his belt had him churned up inside. Now was not the time to pussy out, so he tried hard to cool his emotions. Harper trusted him with the most significant part of her. How on earth was he going to live up to that responsibility? How was he going to prove to her that her faith in him was justified and that her courage wasn’t wasted?
Wasn’t this what his own tattoo was all about? It was part of him. Fortitude or courage being one of the four cardinal virtues shown in Paradiso in the Divine Comedy . The ability to confront fear and intimidation. And yet what did he know about it? She was the one standing in his studio sharing the toughest parts of her life with a stranger.
“I don’t want to move.” The whispered words drew him from his thoughts.
“So don’t.” He pressed a soft kiss into her hair.
“No one has hugged me in a very long time,” she said, pulling away to study him with those soulful eyes. “Thank you.”
“Any time. Tattoos and hugs. I’m great at them both. Just don’t tell the guys out there or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
He tried to sort through his feelings for Harper, shaking his head to clear it. The idea of doing her ink excited him as an artist. As a man, he appreciated the way she’d fit in his arms. And shit, didn’t it make him want to pound on his chest that she’d come to him for help. But if all he felt was compassion for the victim she’d once been, then he shouldn’t be holding her like this, no matter how perfect it felt.
* * *
Five hours later, as he nursed a shot of whiskey, he still couldn’t get Harper out of his head. The whiskey burned as it slid down Trent’s throat, a necessary evil to ward off the chills from drawing up Harper’s back. He had felt her
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