Page 28 of Emi's Hero

With butterflies beating their wings against her insides, safe wasn’t what she was feeling at that moment.

The former marine, with his broad shoulders, friendly blue eyes and sexy smile, had her pulse pounding through her veins.

Was she afraid of him?

Her pulse wasn’t pounding because she was frightened.

No.

It was pounding because he’d stirred in her something she’d thought long dead after years of being under Fallon’s control, her body used, her soul crushed.

George made her feel human. Worthy of care and concern. And maybe...someday...loved.

“Emi?” George’s voice sounded louder. “Are you okay?”

The doorknob turned.

Emi stood transfixed. A flashback of dread froze her feet to the floor as the door opened slowly.

Her heartbeat banged inside her chest, and her breathing became erratic.

Every time the door opened to the cell she and Sara had shared in the compound, she’d dreaded what came next. Most often, it was one of the staff bringing their meals. But in those weeks when Fallon had stayed at the compound, it was often a guard there to lead her to his boss.

A head appeared around the edge of the door. Instead of a guard, it was the ruggedly handsome face of the blue-eyed man who’d dragged her out of the cold ocean water and up onto his boat and had brought her back to life when her body had given up.

He frowned when he spotted her standing there. “Emi?”

She pressed a hand to her chest, willing her pulse to slow.

When she didn’t answer, he entered the room, carrying a tray. He set it on a table and hurried over to where she stood, still unable to move.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, coming to stand in front of her. His hand rose to brush a strand of her hair away from her cheek.

His touch was so gentle that she barely felt it. At the same time, she was hyper-aware of his fingers on her skin and the electric sparks shooting across her cheek and throughout her body.

“Are you still with me?” he whispered the same phrase he’d used before when she’d been lying on the bench in the boat, half-drowned and nearly unconscious.

With her voice still locked in her throat, she nodded.

His knuckles brushed across the line of her jaw. “Did I scare you?”

She forced a shrug, even as her body trembled.

“I’m sorry. When you didn’t answer, I worried you were hurt.” He started to drop his hand.

Emi captured the hand in hers and pressed it to her heated face, his cool touch immediately calming and, at the same time, causing a surge of excitement through her.

How could she even be interested in a man after the eight years of hell she’s spent in Fallon’s compound?

Because George had never demanded anything from her. He hadn’t forced her to do anything. She was free.

Free to choose where she went.

Free to choose who she wanted to be with.

Free to choose her future.

“I’m okay,” she murmured, finally able to push air past her vocal cords, yet unable to release her hold on his hand, she pressed it to her cheek.

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