Page 52 of Mine For The Winter

He put his arms around her as she started shaking, her tears wetting his shirt as she fisted the fabric. He stroked her hair, her back, then her hair again, feeling the pain of her emotions twisting his heart.

“I’m so angry at you.” Her voice was muffled by his body. “You stupid ass.”

“I know. I know.” He slid his fingers through her hair, feeling the gloss of her curls. “And you should be.”

“You left me.”

“I couldn’t stay.”

“I had to clean it up. The mess. All on my own.” Another sob. Stronger this time.

“I know.”

Finally, she looked up. Her eyes were rimmed red but still so beautiful it took his breath away. Tears sparkled like diamonds on her cheeks.

She was close enough for him to feel the heat of her soft breaths on his skin. For him to see the colored flecks in her eyes.

For him to want her more than he wanted anything in his life.

But she was the one thing he couldn’t have.

He cupped her cheek, feeling the dampness of her tears on his palm. “I’m so sorry I hurt you,” he whispered, pressing his brow against hers. They were so close he could feel the flutter of her eyelashes. Her grip on his shirt tightened, her fingers grazing his nipples.

“I’ll talk to you,” she said.

“What?”

“If I can’t pay you back with money, I’ll pay you back with that. I’ll talk to you about the past. Do whatever you need.”

“No.” He didn’t want it that way. It felt like a dirty deal. “You don’t have to talk to me just because you think you owe me something. Because you don’t. You owe me nothing.”

She swallowed, her eyes not leaving his. “But that’s what you want. To talk.”

“Yeah, but not this way.”

Kelly shook her head. “I don’t understand you.”

“That makes two of us.” He gave her the softest of smiles. Then leaned forward to press his lips to her brow. “I want you to talk because you’re ready. Not because of this.” He’d messed up so much, he wasn’t going to mess this up, too. She was vulnerable and angry and for once he was going to be the better man.

“What if I’m never ready?”

Then I’ll never get over it.He pushed that thought away, because he was right the first time. She owed him nothing. Especially not the forgiveness he longed for.

“I’ll live with it.”

This time she was the one to cup his face with her palms. He stayed still as a statue as she slowly leaned forward, her lips a breath away from his.

Heat rushed through his body as she closed the distance, softly pressing her lips to the corner of his.

And still he didn’t move, even though every part of him wanted to. Wanted to kiss her until she was breathless. Wanted to push all of the papers off her desk, lifting her onto it, and kissing her until she was needy and begging.

But he didn’t. Because he was older. Wiser. Knew what an asshole move that would be.

She was upset and wanted comfort, but she hadn’t learned that comfort came in different guises.

It came in hot sex and needy kisses. But it also came in hugs. Soft, loving ones that didn’t let go until you could breathe again. Ones that made you feel safe and on edge at the same time.

Ones that made you feel alive.

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