Page 22 of Saved from Obsession

There’s no response at first, so I knock again, this time calling her name. I try to keep my voice low and gentle, just loud enough for her to hear it, and say, “Georgia, I just want to make sure you’re okay. Can I come in?”

When she doesn’t say anything my stomach sinks—I want to be there for her, but I’m not going to force it. After a few seconds of silence go by, I try again. “I’m here if you want to talk, or you just want some company. But if you want to be alone, that’s okay, too.”

I can still hear her crying, little gasped sobs that tear at my heart. Then a soft, “Leo?” comes through the door.

“Yeah, it’s me.” I lean my head on the door, closing my eyes as I try to figure out the right thing to say. “I just… I’m here for you. For company, to talk, to cry on, whatever you need.”

There’s another pause, followed by the light tap of footsteps. Then the door opens to reveal Georgia in front of me—red-eyed and tear-streaked and still breathtakingly beautiful. “Leo.” Her voice is small and strained, whispered through trembling lips. The fear and exhaustion in her eyes almost drops me to my knees.

“Ah, Georgia.” There’s no question of what I need to do.

My arms go around her without hesitation, pulling her into my chest, tucking her head under my chin. She shudders against me and wraps her arms around my back, clutching the back of my shirt with an iron grip. My neck goes damp, her tears hot on my skin.

I rub one hand up and down her spine while I stroke her hair with the other, long strokes from her crown to mid back. The longer I hold her, the more she sags into me, until I’m holding most of her weight in my arms.

How long has it been since she had someone to support her like this? Someone to carry some of the weight when it’s too much to bear on her own?

“What can I do, Georgia?” I keep rubbing her back, trying to massage out the tension knotted into every muscle. “How can I help?”

She sucks in a shaky breath—her tears have slowed but her breathing is still ragged—and tightens her hold on me. “You are.”

It’s not enough. I don’t want Georgia crying to begin with. I don’t want her terrified and traumatized and trying to hide her tears.

After a few more stuttering gasps, she tilts her head back to look up at me. Her eyes are a vivid blue rimmed with a long brush of damp lashes. “I’m just so tired. Tired of being scared, never knowing what’s coming next. I don’t know what I did to deserve this. And I feel so alone.”

“You’re not alone.” My voice is rough, sandpaper over gravel. “You haveme.”

She blinks at me, her eyebrows arching up in confusion. I’m not sure what I’m saying either—that she has me as a protector? Or is it something much more than that?

“Leo?” Her lips are parted, rosy pink and full and still damp from her tears.

Words have escaped me. My mind is split in two directions, both sides battling for dominance. Half sayskiss her. Do what I’ve been thinking about for weeks now. Taste her lips, let my hands slide beyond the base of her spine to touch the curves that keep taunting me.

But then the other. She’s a client. I made a promise to protect her. Not to let my own desires take priority over her needs. And just because I think she’s attracted to me doesn’t mean she wants it to be more. After all she’s been through, who am I to assume that Georgia wants to be anything other than friends?

Then she kisses me.

It’s tentative, just a light brush of lips lingering on mine. Her eyes are still open, watching me with a guarded uncertainty. She’s scared, but she’s doing it anyway.

Once her mouth is pressed against mine, the rest follows instinctively. I trace the seam of her mouth with my tongue, lightly nipping at her full lower lip, tasting the mix of sweet and saltiness there. She opens for me with a tiny gasp of need, her fingers digging into my back as our kiss deepens.

As Georgia stretches up to meet me, her breasts press against my chest, the tips already hard and aroused. A little hum of pleasure vibrates into my mouth and I immediately imagine how it would feel around another part of me.

And damn. Now I’m not just hard, but throbbing, aching for her.

Iwantto pick up Georgia and take her over to the bed, peel off her clothes and kiss every inch of her body.

But the responsible voice in my head takes over, saying the same words on repeat.She’s a client. Don’t take advantage of her vulnerability.So I drag my mouth from hers, peel her body from mine, and take a few steps away to regain my footing. Georgia stares at me, her lips kiss-swollen and cheeks flushed, pupils still dilated with need.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” I regret the words as soon as I say them.

Georgia flinches and takes a little step away from me. Her brows draw into a small V before she says quietly, “I thinkIwas the one who did it.”

Shit. Now she looks hurt, dismay washing across her features. I stumble for something else to say. “I mean, you’re a client. And we aren’t supposed to get involved—”

“It’s fine.” Everything goes flat, her voice, her expression—wiped of all emotion. The only thing she can’t hide is the pain in her eyes, darkening them to a stormy blue. “I understand. I’m sorry.”

Dammit. “It’s not like that, Georgia.”

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