Page 85 of Unspoken Words
“I know this is a shock, but—”
“Wait a minute!” Jackson closed the door behind me. “You two know each other?”
My knees gave way, and I stumbled before gripping a leather chair pushed in at the table, my pulse racing, my skin no longer icy. Heat brewed at the base of my neck, and I continued to shake my head in disbelief.Saxon can’t be him. How the hell can Saxon be him?
Blinking, I opened and closed my mouth then finally managed to push words past my trembling lips. “I … I can’t do this. I’m sorry, but I can’t work with you.”
Turning around, I went to leave but collided with Jackson. He steadied me with his hands, concern etched onto his chiselled face. “What’s going on?” His eyes flicked from mine to Connor’s.
“It’s fine. Everything is fine. Ellie and I just haven’t seen each other in years.”
Everything is fine? Fine? Is he fucking kidding me?
I snapped my head in his direction and glared, a look that scorched him instantly but then ignited his damn delightful dimples.
My jaw dropped. My fists clenched.
“Jackson, would you mind giving Ellie and me a minute? I need to explain a few things to her before she explodes and burns this entire building down.”
Jackson’s gaze landed on my simmering face. “Sure thing,” he uttered. “There’s a jug of water on the table if you need it.” He let go of my shoulders and looked toward Connor. “Just buzz me when you’re ready.”
I watched him exit the room, and before I could spring forward and follow him, the door closed, trapping me inside.
“Ellie, before you—”
“SHUT. UP,” I growled, fury slicing the air around us like a razor sharp knife.
He did as he was told but my body sensed him moving closer, goosebumps rising on my arms and the back of my neck.
I spun to face him, my chest tight with pain. “Don’t. Please,” I begged. “Don’t come any closer. I’m barely standing right now as it is.”
“Then take a seat.” His voice was as soft as his smoky eyes but it did nothing to ease my turmoil.
“No, Connor. I’m not staying.”
I’d barely finished my sentence before he was on his knees at my feet, his hands holding the backs of my thighs, my stockings and skirt bunched in his grip. “Don’t go. Not yet. Please just hear me out first.”
I stumbled in shock and tried to step back, but he held me tighter. “Connor, what the hell are you doing? Let go!”
“Promise you’ll hear what I have to say before leaving.”
I kicked his knee. “No!”
“Ow.” His lip quirked. “You wear heels now?”
I kicked him again. “Yes.”
“Goddamn it, Ellie. Stop.”
“Let me go.”
“I will. I swear it. Just hear me out first.” Connor’s eyes were wide and watering, his grip no longer intense.
“Fine,” I huffed, pushing his hands away and finally stepping back. I hadn’t felt his touch in years. It was too much. I needed distance.
Smoothing my skirt down, I took another step back. “But make it quick. I’ve wasted enough time already.”
He rose from the ground like a crane and reached for a guitar propped against the wall. He rested his arse on the edge of the conference room table, sat the guitar on his thigh and tuned the strings.
