Page 48 of Brutal Savage

“I’m fine.” I swipe at my eyes. “I fell during my run. That’s all.”

I try to walk away, but in an instant, his arm curls around my stomach and he turns me to him, my front landing right against his.

His eyes sink into mine, my lungs stilling, refusing to allow a breath.

In this moment, I almost forget everything that happened. Everything except the way he’s looking at me, like he wants to keep me safe.

This sudden feeling comes over me, like if I were to fall, he’d be there to catch me.

And that’s the scariest thought of all.

Because that means I’d have to trust him.

His palm cups my cheek, a gentle thumb stroking the corner of my mouth. “Who hurt you?”

“I…I…”

“Just give me a name, and you’ll be reading his obituary.”

My heart, it practically bursts. He sounds like he means it, and I wish it were that easy.

“It was no one. I fell.” My emotions tighten in my throat as I meet his imperious gaze, not wanting to fight his hands on me anymore.

It feels too good to be touched by him, to be held this way.

“Elara, I know you didn’t fall. I know you’re scared of someone. Don’t lie to me. All you need to do is give me a name.”

My tears return, treacherous and wild, running down my cheeks. I want so badly to trust someone. To not be alone in this.

But I can’t. I can’t trust anyone with what I’ve done, the people I’m running from. Especially him. He’ll either use it against me like Jerry did or turn me in to the police. I am Brody’s teacher. He wouldn’t want someone like that teaching his son.

“There is no name. I fell. I swear.”

His eyes narrow and his thumb rolls across my lips. “It’s only a matter of time until I get you to trust me enough to tell me who’s hurting you, Ms. Hill.”

Warmth cruises over my barren and hollow limbs, filling me with oxygen.

“Good luck with that, Mr. Quinn.”

“Mm.” He pulls his body even nearer, until I can feel how strong he is, how hard his muscles are.

I inhale sharply, a throbbing pulsing between my thighs. He must notice the change in me because his smirk widens and his mouth moves just a little closer, warm breaths twining with mine.

I want him—no, need him—to kiss me.

To make me forget.

“You’re trouble,” he whispers, his mouth stroking mine, a growl emanating from his rumbling chest.

“I thought a man like you liked a little trouble.”

Deep, raspy laughter rolls out of him, the fingers of his other hand running up my spine before they get lost in my hair.

I moan low as he snaps a fist into my waves, tilting my head back. His lips land on my throat, kissing up to my jaw, teeth nipping and sucking along the curve.

Every inch of me aches for him, for this undeniable yearning coursing between us.

He yanks my head back even more, staring down into my eyes. “Who hurt you? Just tell me so I can help you.”

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