Page 48 of The Wrong Husband
I take another sip of the caffeinated nectar and feel myself slip a little more in ‘like’—not going to use the other L-word—with this walking dopamine hit with a jaw that seems to be carved by someone with a scalpel knife and too much time.
"Happy to see me?" he drawls.
"Of course, not,” I try to huff, but my words come out soft and melting.
"Liar,” he says in a husky voice, carrying within it the implication of all the dirty things he could do to me. I shiver.
I become aware of the butterflies in my stomach… And all because I’m sitting so close to him. Ugh!
To disguise how turned on I am just by being in this enclosed space smelling of his dark scent, I toss my head. "Did you just diagnose that with zero lab results? Impressive."
"So, youwerelying."
"What gives you that idea?" I take another sip of the chai, then place the cup in the holder.
His lips quirk. "You have a tell."
"A tell?"
"When you’re trying to be evasive, you like to use medical jargon to confuse the other person."
"I do?" I chew on my lower lip.
“Also, when you’re nervous you wrap your arms about yourself."
“Oh.” I look down to find my arms are, indeed, around my waist. I drop my hands in my lap.
As for the medical jargon? He’s right. It’s my fall back. Something I do by default. It used to annoy Drew, but I would laugh it off. Because, as I've recently come to realize, I was trying to drive him away.
"Where did you go to?" He leans over and tugs on my lower lip, pulling it free from my teeth. His touch shoots an incendiary signal across my nerve endings. Like a distress flare from a stowaway marooned on an island who's spotted a ship on the horizon. Is that why he came into my life? Because he heard my cry for help and responded to it?
He must sense some of my conflicting emotions, for his eyebrows knit. "Are you okay?"
I lean away, so he’s forced to drop his arm. "Being with you confuses me. It makes me want things I didn’t think I could have."
"You can have anything you want. You deserveeverything."
The vehemence in his words makes me raise my gaze to his. I see the sincerity in his eyes, and a pressure knocks behind my eyes. It’s ridiculous that this man, whom I barely know, can move me so deeply with his words. When the man I tried to convince myself I loved never once evoked such feelings in me.
"Hey." He reaches over and pinches my chin, so I have no choice but to turn my head in his direction. I keep my gaze averted, though.
"What is it, Phe?" His voice is tender, and there’s a gentleness to his tone that further undoes me. Why does he affect me somuch? And this, despite the fact he was sent to spy on me by my brother, and he didn’t share that with me earlier. I try to pull away from him, but he doesn’t let me. "Tell me what you’re feeling."
Oh, I want to.So much.Perhaps, it’s the understanding in his eyes. Perhaps, it’s just him taking up all the oxygen in the enclosed space of this car.
"Fever"—he lowers his voice to a hush—"talk to me."
That edge of dominance in his voice spurts a frisson of need under my skin. My blood heats. My lower belly clenches. Before I can stop myself, I murmur, "You don’t even know me. How can you surmise that I deserve anything?"
He notches his knuckles under my chin, so I have no choice but to look up and into his eyes. The burning intensity in them makes my heart stutter. My breath comes in small pants.
How is it that a simple look from him has me wanting to obey him?
It wasn’t like this with Drew. I never felt this need to make him happy. I never cared enough to want to please him.
With Connor, it’s different. He doesn’t just stir something inside me—he unleashes it. Every look, every touch, every word from him crashes into me like the monsoon breaking over parched earth. Sudden. Overwhelming. Impossible to ignore. He doesn’t wash over me gently—he drowns out everything else. And I want to let him.
It’s wrong to compare them. My guilt where Drew is concerned is only amplified by how powerfully attracted I am to Connor.
