Page 25 of Rescuing Sophia

“We can’t do this.” His voice is rough, strained with effort.

“Why not? We both want to.” Hurt and rejection wash over me like a cold wave.

Blake’s hands clench into fists at his sides, his muscles taut with the struggle to rein in his desire. His eyes darken, and his jaw tightens. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to step back, creating a wider gap between us.

“You have no idea how much I want you.” His voice is low and raw, as if every word costs him monumental effort. “But we can’t.”

“I’m not some fragile thing. I know what I want.”

“You’ve been through a traumatic experience. You need time to heal. Not…” He backs away, maintaining the distance between us.

“Don’t tell me what I’m thinking or what I need. You have no idea what I need.” My anger flares, and I step closer, my hands clenched at my sides.

“It’s not about want. It’s about what’s right. You’re under my protection. It would be taking advantage.” Blake puts distance between us.

“Taking advantage?” I laugh bitterly. “I’m not some delicate flower you need to protect.”

Blake’s expression hardens, his jaw clenching. “I know you think you want this, Sophia. But this—us—it can’t happen. Not now. Not like this.”

“Why?” I blink furiously to keep my tears from falling. “So that’s it? You’re just going to push me away? Because you’re protecting me? From who? Myself? Or you?”

He hesitates, the silence between us crackling with tension. “I’mprotecting you from me,” he finally admits, his voice a mere whisper.

“What do you mean, from you?”

His gaze darkens, and he takes a deep breath. “I’m not gentle, Sophia. I’m afraid I’ll be too rough with you. You’ve been through so much already; the last thing I want is to hurt you. I’m going to do the sensible thing and walk away.” He moves toward the door, his hand on the knob. “I’m sorry, but this is how it has to be.”

“You have no right to tell me what I want. Or that what I want is wrong. You know what’s funny? You may have rescued me, but I’m still not free to do as I please.” I close the distance and poke a finger at his chest. “You don’t get to tell me how to feel. You don’t get to tell me what I want.”

“You sure about that?” His voice is hard and challenging.

“Damn sure.”

“You sure you’re not using me to feel safe?”

I am using him, but not for that. I don’t have the luxury offeeling safe.

I stagger back, speechless. “Where the hell do you get away saying that?”

“Aren’t you?” Blake’s eyes are cold now. “Isn’t that what you’ve been trained to do? Use your body to get what you want?”

His words hit with the force of a punch, knocking the wind out of me.

“Is that what you think? This is different.”

“How? How isthisany different?”

“Because for the first time,thisis what I want.” My voice rises, trembling with outrage. Anger and hurt swirl inside me, burning hot. “For the record, I wasn’t trained, I was forced…” Fury rises within me, white-hot and cold as hell. “Repeatedly. I learned how to survive and endure what was done to me.”

It was only after that—once I was broken—that I was trained in the art of seduction, but there’s no reason to mention any of that to Blake.

I stare at him, daring him to say anything.

Blake’s eyes widen as the gravity of his mistake sinks in. His facepales, the coldness in his expression giving way to horror. He steps back, his mouth opening to speak, but no words come out.

Anger drains from his eyes, replaced by guilt and remorse. He reaches out a hand, trembling slightly, and his voice breaks as he finally speaks.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…” His voice trails off, and he stands there, helpless, realizing the full weight of his mistake.

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