Page 8 of At the Edge of Surrender

His words shards that coasted through the dense, dense air.

“Emery,” I whispered.

Something flashed through his expression. “Well, Emery, it doesn’t look like we’re celebrating tonight, so here’s to not drinkin’ alone.”

Leather creaked as he sat forward in the chair, and the man stretched out his glass to clink it against mine. The faintest grin danced over his lush, tempting lips.

The man a dose of wicked bliss that would likely be fatal in the end.

I softly tapped my glass to his. “To not drinking alone.”

I tipped the glass to my lips. A fire charged down my throat as I took a sip, but it was different than what I had been drinking.

Smoother.

Almost sweeter.

I let the flavor roll around on my tongue before I mumbled, “Not cheap tequila.”

He canted his head to the side. “Figured after whatever kind of night you’ve had, you deserve the best.”

I wavered before I finally forced my appreciation off my tongue. “That was kind of you. All of it.”

My voice took on a deep sincerity as I glanced at the door.

Electric green eyes sparked beneath the warm light emitted from the fixture hanging above the desk. “Not gonna sit around and watch some asshole try to take something someone doesn’t want to give them. Especially when they’re clearly having a vulnerable moment.”

“Is that what I look like? Vulnerable?” I didn’t mean for it to come out a challenge. But I couldn’t stop it. That armor I’d worn for years hardening around everything that wasvulnerable.

His gaze roamed over me.

Slowly.

Meticulously.

Fire flamed in the middle of it. Tension binding the air as he dragged his attention all the way down then slowly back up to my face. “You look like a whole lot of things.”

He eased forward a fraction. “A warrior. A fighter. A fiery temptation sitting on that couch, though it appears to me someone attempted to put that flame out.”

His voice scraped across my flesh. A rough caress I was foolish enough to want to feel over every inch.

His tongue stroked out across his plush lips before he continued, “You look like the perfect kind of fantasy that I have no right dreaming.”

My stomach pulled tight. A foreign sensation that should be impossible to feel.

But it was there, flickering beneath my skin.

A slow burn that I’d never experienced before.

He kept inching forward, the wheels of the chair bringing him closer as he angled my direction.

My breaths turned jagged and shallow.

Less than a foot away, he reached out and brushed the pad of his thumb along my cheek, so soft I thought I might crumble beneath the tender touch. “But most of all…right now…you look fuckin’ sad.”

My spirit flailed. A silent cry that erupted from somewhere deep inside me. Lurching toward this stranger who saw me. One who’d noticed and recognized.

This stranger—this stranger I should be terrified of—but one who instead elicited a buzz that burned through my body. “You want to tell me what put that expression on your gorgeous face?” He kept running his thumb over the apple of my cheek.

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