Page 38 of Loving You

“I’m not as in control as you might think,” he said, setting down his beer and slowly rising to his feet.

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, right. This is younotin control of your feelings?”

“Almost,” he gritted out.

I paused my pacing to face him with my hands on my hips. “I’m curious, Mr. Walker, was that glimpse of emotion I saw the other night at dinner the only time you’ve ever cracked? You’ve dealt with some hard shit, and yet, something tells me that was the first time you’ve ever spoken about it, let alone gotten choked up over it.”

“Well, Ms. Carrigan, if I were to have spoken about my shit earlier than that night, I doubt it would’ve been to you. You want to know why?”

Glaring, I edged around the table until my crossed arms brushed his chest. “Why?”

“Because the April I knew before wouldn’t have given a shit about myfeelings.She wouldn’t have stopped making sex jokes long enough to listen, and she damn sure would’ve been too busy talking about herself and her fun life and whatever hot guy she’d fucked the night before to let me get a word in edgewise.”

Each word of that description was like a separate knife to my chest. I’d wanted the world to think of me as the exact opposite kind of woman I’d been on the inside… except I didn’t like how it sounded when he put it like that.

I didn’t like the person he thought I was—whether it was my doing or not.

And even though I knew I was angry at myself for the front I’d put on and not at him for calling me out, I let my hands drop to my sides with a huff. “If that’s what you think of me, then why did you tell me all that stuff?”

“Because you’re not who I thought you were,” he all but growled, that same fire reappearing in his eyes as he dipped his head so low I felt his breath on my mouth.

I didn’t know how to take his words, but I couldn’t wrap my brain around them if I tried because the space between us was electric. Both of us mad, both of us breathing hard—though he seemed to be trying to appear composed. And it was suddenly clear that the confusing, misplaced anger I felt wasn’t anger at all.

It wasdesire.

And not only was that shocking, because I hadn’t felt desire this strong since before Cliff, but I also realized Eric wasn’t angry either. Frustrated, sure. But not angry.

He wanted me.

I wanted him.

It was an undeniable truth hanging in the charged air between us, and somewhere deep in my bones, I knew if I pushed him just a little harder, that control of his would crack… and that would result in me ending up flat on my back.

In a good way.

How was this possible? How was it possible that after what I’d been through, I was seconds away from intentionally pushing a man to let loose on me?

I wished I cared, but I didn’t. All I knew was that for some strange reason, I wanted to see this man break free of his irritatingly calm facade and do what his clenched hands told me he wanted to do.

Because those hands—Eric’shands—would never hurt me.

How did I know that with such certainty?

No clue.

Didn’t care.

But first, I needed to know if he’d been about to ask me to leave. And maybe depending on how I asked him… I could get more than a simple yes or no in reply.

“Did you skip trivia night so you could come here and kick me out?” I asked, a challenge in my tone and expression.

Thunder rippled off him in waves. “No.”

“Then why?”

“Because we need to talk.”

I took a step closer, heat pooling in my belly. “What if I don’t want to talk? Then would you ask me to leave?”

---