Page 34 of Pretty Little Thing

Say wait if he goes too far.

Say stop to make him stop.

No, there was something else.

“Nora?”

Several bright bursts of light invade my vision and my knees give out beneath me.

Breathe.

He told me to breathe.

A strong arm wraps around my waist before I even touch the floor. Clive yanks me back up, hoisting me into the air and cradling me in both arms.

“Nora?”

His voice sounds faint and distant even though I can feel his lips moving on my cheek.

“Stop,”I murmur.

My eyes focus on his chiseled face as his smile stretches to one side.

“Way ahead of you,” he says with a laugh. “Are you okay?”

I glance around, squinting beneath the bright purple light. A larger crowd has gathered around to watch and I cringe in embarrassment. “Uh-huh…”

Clive looks up and nods at another man in a black shirt nearby. The man immediately starts waving people away, insisting that they give us our space.

“Come on,” Clive says, still carrying me. He walks us over to a bench against the nearest wall and he sits down beneath the dim, gray lights, keeping me close. “I didn’t think Ms. Nora Payne would have such a low tolerance.”

“I don’t,” I say, my cheeks burning. “I just… forgot to breathe.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says. “It’s all part of the learning process. I’m just happy I caught you in time.”

I look down, suddenly very aware of his hands on my body. He keeps one clenched beneath my knees with the other wrapped around my back, his fingers dangerously close to my breast.

And my hands — Oh, god. I’m touching his chest. It’s thick and flexed like some kind of… sports… person…

Athlete! That’s the word.

My mind starts to clear up and I look around the quiet corner of the room. We’re all by ourselves over here. Everyone else found something more interesting to watch, I guess. Or that’s just the kind of respect people treat you with around here. Either way, I’m happy they moved on.

I clear my throat. “Well, I can’t say I’ve been cradled like this in… twenty-five years, or so,” I joke.

“Didn’t want you to hit your head,” he says. He looks at the seat. “And I didn’t want to lay you down because I’m not sure when this bench was last cleaned, so…”

“Right. Smart.” I swallow hard, getting lost in those bright, blue eyes. How did I never notice before that they were blue? “I think I’m good now.”

“You sure?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

I slide off his lap onto the bench and he lets me go. My body instantly wants his hands back. I almost feel unhinged without them. Like a ship with no anchor.

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