Page 45 of The Way We Touch
Her slim brows furrow, her hand still wrapped in mine. “How old were you?”
“Twelve.”
“I’m so sorry, Logan. Didn’t you have anybody?” Her thumb moves lightly from the knuckle of my forefinger to my thumb, and I try to remember.
Have I ever had anyone until this moment?
“Yeah, ahh… I had a really nice housekeeper named Anita. She would bring me leftover cookies after her kids had birthday parties. I think she felt sorry for me.”
My gaze moves from our hands to her eyes, and she’s so sad.
“Shit,” I laugh. “And you thought you were dark. This is ridiculous. I want to kick my own ass right now.”
“Stop it. You’re not ridiculous. I hate that for you.”
Releasing her hand, I circle the bar so I can stand in front of her, between her legs. She’s still sitting in that chair, and her head is at my chest. I want to lift her onto the counter so our faces will be level. I want to lift her arms around my neck and kiss her like I’ve been dreaming of doing every damn night since I got here.
“Football became my family, and I became a dick.” Leaning down, I trace my nose along the side of her hair, inhaling her delicious scent.
Her breath quickens, and her hand is on my stomach again, half-heartedly holding me back. “Why do you do that?”
“To protect myself. I locked up my feelings, and I dated models or socialites who wouldn’t ask too much of me or get too close. If they did, I’d shut it down and move on. I wasn’t letting anyone hurt me again.”
I grew up to be exactly what my father taught me to be, cold and distant. Pursuing cold and distant relationships that wouldn’t challenge me.
I blamed the women for using me, for not caring enough, for only wanting to build their brand or steal a pinch of my stardom for themselves. The truth is, it was me. I chose them precisely because they wouldn’t ask for anything I didn’t want to give, and with each passing year, I turned into him more and more, growing more and more miserable as the years rolled by…
Until Garrett brought me here, to this place. To her.
“You have a pretty clear picture of yourself.”
“I didn’t until now.” Another hit of lavender. “Until you knocked me on my ass and burned all that shit out of me.”
“Stop it,” she laughs, pushing me gently. “I didn’t!”
“Garrett said seeing a real family would get my head straight, and he was right. I’m seeing a lot of things I didn’t know I wanted. Things I didn’t even know I was missing.”
“Logan,” she whispers, and the pressure of her hand against my stomach increases, as if she’ll make me stop.
Fuck, I don’t want to stop. “I really want to kiss you right now.”
Her chin lifts, and our eyes meet. The pull between us is so strong, I swear it sparks. My entire body sparks. It’s a heat unlike anything I’ve felt—right up there with that ghost pepper I accidentally ate.
Her pink tongue touches her bottom lip, and my dick is fully hard in my jeans. “Is something stopping you?”
“Other than you?” I lean closer, tracing my lips lightly across her temple.
She shivers, and the fist in my chest tightens. I am hesitating because of her, and it’s not just her hand on my stomach.
Dylan is everything I want, from her sassy little attitude to her sexy little body. I love her humor and her caring, the way she takes care of her brothers and her niece and Craig and that restaurant. Even her obsession with those fucking killer peppers fascinates me.
I want to protect her from anything that might hurt her, and it fucking terrifies me. If I keep going down this road, I can only see two outcomes—I’ll come back with something real and lasting, or I’ll come back with permanent scars, more painful than the ones I already have.
“And if I wasn’t stopping you?” Her voice is sultry.
Our eyes meet, and I level with her. “I’ve never felt like this before, Dylan, and I’ll never forgive myself if I let you down.”
“How would you do that?”