Page 49 of Fighting for Ella

Not that he’d stopped there.

After the shower, he’d dried her off, helped her get dressed then carried her back downstairs to feed her. Carrying her had just been so she didn't have to walk on her feet when he knew they had to be bothering her. Definitely not because he just liked the feel of her slim body in his arms.

Definitely not.

At least if he was lying to himself.

When he’d made sure she’d eaten a decent meal he had intended to leave so she could get some rest. People were watching her house so he knew she was safe and if he stayed any longer he knew it would be even harder to walk away from her once the mole was caught and she was able to find her footing again.

Then she’d asked him to hold her while she fell asleep.

She’d looked so sweet, so innocent, so unsure of herself. He could tell it had taken all the courage she had left to ask. It was hard to ask for help when you needed it, and he respected that she’d twice been able to ask him to give her what she needed.

He’d been helpless to say no.

His intention had been to lay there until she fell asleep and then slip out of the bed and spend the rest of the night in her spare room or on the couch in her living room.

Only as soon as he had her in his arms, he’d been unable to move, and he must have wound up falling asleep holding her. There was just something about this woman he couldn’t seemto walk away from. She was strong and determined, she cared about the people she loved, she was loyal and intelligent, and sweet and innocent even despite the world she knew existed through her work at Prey.

Ella Whitlock was the whole package, only he wasn't looking for a package to keep.

If Miguel thought there was any way he could keep things casual with Ella, maybe even hook up with her a few times without feelings getting in the way then he’d go for it.

That could never happen though.

He was already catching feelings.

Feelings he couldn’t afford himself.

Not if he wanted to protect Ella and keep her safe.

And he did. There was no way he would allow his personal demons to infect someone so sweet and pure. Someone who had already been through so much and had even more she would have to deal with once the full impact of everything that had happened sunk in.

Maybe if she hadn't traipsed off to Mexico, ready to sacrifice herself to save everyone else, he might have given in to the attraction he had been sure wasn't one-sided, but not now.

Now Ella needed him to be strong.

Needed him to keep things in perspective.

Hurting her was out of the question, and if he allowed himself to get in any deeper, he risked falling for her for real. Allowing those feelings he was already catching to develop into something he wouldn't be able to ignore.

If that happened and he and Ella fell for one another, and he lost the tight grip he retained on his addiction, he would drag her down with him. Knowing he had destroyed something so bright and good would also destroy him, and he’d tumble further and further down into the addiction hole until he was in so deep that he’d never be able to climb out again.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he whispered as he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair off her cheek. Her hair felt like silk, and her cheek like the softest satin. Staying there would be so easy, allowing himself to fall for her would be much easier than he thought it would be.

All his life he’d found it easy to maintain an emotional distance between women that weren't part of his family.

Until one woman stood before him in the jungle, shaking and crying, lying to him to get away because even though she’d come mere seconds away from being raped she was determined to follow through with her plans.

“Miguel?” Ella asked, voice husky with sleep as she blinked and shifted so she was looking up at him.

This was it.

Time to break his own heart to protect a woman he’d never expected to fall for. But he was falling, and this was the only way to protect Ella. Given enough time, he’d wind up hurting her, he was sure of it, positive that sooner or later genetics would catch up with him and he’d wind up like the deadbeat dad who abandoned him or the druggie mom who lived only for her addiction and not her two little boys.

“Sorry, El, I have to go,” he said softly. Miguel wasn't a monster, he knew that Ella was floundering right now, felt all alone, and he had no intention of telling her he would be there for her only to then bail.

He’d be there. He’d just have to do it more carefully.

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