Page 38 of The Locksmith's Promise

He shook his head as he pulled his hand away and leveled me with his gaze. His dark, sober eyes left no room for doubt about his determination.

A tiny frisson of alarm skittered up my arms.

Leaning forward, he set his empty mug on the coffee table.

“See,” he began slowly. “That’s not going to work for me.”

I frowned, anxiety pulling out her needles to knit my intestines. “What do you mean, that’s not going to work for you? What about me? What about what works for me?”

He dipped his chin, shame or regret or maybe both staining his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Maggie. I’m being selfish. And I’m going to continue being selfish because the last time I felt whole was the last time you hugged me.”

I stared back at him, my eyes skittering back and forth between his.

While my heart broke for him, I couldn’t be responsible for his happiness. Along with everything else I carried, it was simply too heavy.

But God help me, I wanted to hold him.

Make him whole in a way he’d never been.

It had been too long since I’d felt whole myself.

“I know I don’t deserve you,” he continued quietly, his gaze steady. “But if you let me in, I’ll make sure you never regret it.”

I opened my mouth, but my protest died in my throat.

Rising to his feet, he leaned over me and cupped my face in his hands.

Eyes wide, I stared up at him.

Watched with bated breath as he lowered his head and pressed his forehead to mine.

Then he raised his chin so that his lips hovered a bare inch above mine.

Heart thudding in my chest, I slapped my hands over his.

I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so alive, every one of my senses on fire from the touch of his hand, the light in his eyes, the warm, light, soapy scent of his skin.

“Oh, God,” I panted, unable to pull away.

His hands trembled under mine.

I was rapidly losing control of the whole situation.

No.

I’d already lost it.

I can’t.

Voice shaking, he whispered, “Maggie.”

Inhaling sharply through his teeth, he dropped his hands and tucked my hair behind my ear before stepping back. “I won’t push you. Not too hard.”

I snorted, blowing out a breath while I pressed the palms of my hands to my thighs to stop them from shaking.

His retreating footsteps sounded through the kitchen then stopped.

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