Page 25 of Forbidden Intent

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The second she walked into the studio, I knew something was wrong.And I’m desperate to figure out what it is.I want to break down her defenses and know what’s going on in that beautiful head of hers.I’ve never wanted to know a woman as strongly as I want to know Tamsin—not just intimately, but on every level possible.I want to know her thoughts, fears, dreams.And more than anything I want her towantto tell me those things.I especially want her to tell me what’s got this panic-stricken look lurking in the background of her gaze.I’ve been watching her for weeks and could read every expression on her face as clearly as words on a page, but this one is new and I don’t like it.

She may have turned me down when I asked her out and I’ll respect that, but it doesn’t mean I can stop caring about her.

We take a few silent steps as I try to figure out the best way to ask her what’s wrong without making her feel pressured to answer.

Finally I cave and simply ask, “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” she says.

Usually when people say everything’s fine, everything is certainlynotfine.This case doesn’t feel any different.Fine feels a lot like bullshit.

“You sure?Because you seemed kind of upset when you walked in.”

“What makes you say that?”she asks, glancing at me quickly before averting her gaze.

How much do I confess here?I don’t want to come off as a creep, although the amount of time I spend thinking about her sometimes makes me feel like one, especially after she turned me down.I should move on, fuck some random to get her out of my goddamn head.

If only it were that easy.But in the few weeks that we’ve been around each other, I’ve not been able to think about anyone but her.

She’s captivated me in a way no woman ever has.

But that doesn’t necessarily mean I want her to know how much I watch her every reaction, how her brow furrows when she’s concentrating and she sticks that pink pen of hers between her lips.Or the way she bobs her head to our music when she’s really into the song.Or how her eyes truly are the windows into her soul because I can always tell what kind of mood she’s in the second she walks in the door based off how her eyes look.

So do I give myself away or downplay my infatuation with her?

I play it safe.“You just seemed upset.”

Truthfully, her eyes were slightly red-rimmed and puffy like she’d been crying, and when she looked at me, it was like a punch to the heart—like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to run away or be saved.

When she still doesn’t say anything, I fight my disappointment that she won’t open up to me.I don’t know why it bothers me so much, but it does.Maybe because it means she doesn’t trust me.

After what happened with my brother, trust isn’t something I give very easily, so I can understand her hesitance.We haven’t known each other that long.But there are also those people you just have that instant connection with—there’s something that immediately puts you at ease and makes you feel like you’ve met a kindred spirit.

I felt that the first time I met Tamsin.Her voice washed over me like warm water and I instantly felt like I had to know her.

That feeling hasn’t gone away since.And her silence is just another reminder—as if her rejection wasn’t—that she doesn’t feel the same way.

Fuck, I have to find a way to get over this woman.

We go inside, the silence like a lead weight between the two of us.She orders the drinks, with me adding my order at the end, and then we wait until they’re ready.Time feels as if it’s moving like sludge, but I can’t for the life of me figure out how to make it go any faster.I don’t know what to say to put her at ease with me or trust me enough to tell me what’s really got this sad, lost look in her eyes.

As we wait, I keep glancing over at her, our gazes clashing multiple times, and it gives me some hope that maybe she does want to tell me after all.That maybe the silence is killing her too.

But she never speaks, apart from thanking the barista once our drinks are ready.Then she grabs two while I take the other two and we walk out.I follow her, hating this situation more and more with every second that passes.

This isn’t like me.I’m not the guy who acts like a pathetic puppy dog over a woman.I’ve never been afraid to go for what I want, so what is it about Tamsin that makes me pause.Why am I so hesitant to push her into giving us a chance?

A rush of wind circles around us, swirling Tamsin’s hair around her shoulders and whipping up a strand across her face where it sticks to her lip gloss.Before she can reach up and grab it, I move to hold the bottom of both coffees in one hand and take my now free hand to brush aside the lock of hair.

Her hazel eyes snap to mine, and it’s in that moment I understand how a man can totally lose himself in a woman because I’m dangerously close to becoming that guy—if I haven’t turned into him already.There’s so much in her expression—want, fear, desire, longing.Things that I know she can see in mine if she looks close enough.

Her breath catches and before I know it, our bodies are nearly flush, her chest brushing against mine and my hand resting against her cheek while our eyes speak words neither of us are able to.Her cheeks are flushed, and not from the slight chill in the air.I slide my thumb across her cheek, unable to break our stare but aching to touch her more.

That voice in the back of my head that’s been guiding my behavior with this woman from the very beginning speaks up and tells me to slow down, even though that’s the last thing I want to do, especially now.She might’ve rejected my date proposal, but she’s feeling this just as much as I am.She can’t hide it.

I won’t force myself on her—there’s a special place in hell for men who do that shit—but I’m not giving up on her.There’s something here, even if she’s not ready to admit it.

Her eyes dart back and forth between mine.“I want to,” she whispers, her voice on the edge of breaking.She closes her eyes as if in pain.“I want to tell you.”When her eyes open again, her shoulders fall and her body screams resignation, even if her beautiful hazel eyes are begging for me to stay here with her.

“Tell me what?”I ask, dropping my voice so the volume matches hers.

She shakes her head and her eyes begin to water, making my chest ache for all the pain she’s trying to carry on her own.“I can’t,” she says at the same time that she pulls away from me.She walks into the studio, never turning around, but I watch her the whole way, more determined than ever to not give up on her, on what we could be for each other.

All she has to do is say the word and I’m hers.

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