Page 172 of Breaking the Rules

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But that would have meant admitting what had happened.

And I couldn't.

I can barely think it now.

I linger in the shower, water pounding the tension from my back, until someone is knocking on the door.

Hunter is saying something.

I turn the water off and wrap myself in a towel.

He knocks again. "You okay?" His voice is soft. Caring.

He's only asking about the shower. About why I'm spending an hour locking myself into the bathroom.

He's not asking about his bullshit rejection.

But I still want to pour my heart out.

His proximity brings safety.

When I close my eyes, I can see myself in that chemise. In front of him. Inviting him to touch me.

Fuck, I want that so badly.

I want that to be okay.

"I have to get ready." I cinch the towel tightly.

"That isn't an answer."

He isn't getting one.

I suck a breath through my teeth. Muster all theI don't give a fuckI can manage. Step into the hallway.

He's standing in jeans.

Only jeans.

He slides one hand into his front pocket. Runs the other though his hair.

His pupils dilate as his eyes trace my body.

It's different than with other guys.

I want him staring.

I want him tearing off my towel, wrapping his arms around me, pinning me to the wall.

Erasing that awful memory.

That can't be that last time someone touched me.

It can't.

His eyes fix on mine. They're so blue and piercing and full of hurt.

I want to wipe it away.

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