Page 122 of Hold Me Until Morning

It would be a mistake, falling for him.

But God, how was I supposed to stop myself when he eased back a fraction to gaze down at me, his hand soft where he set it on my cheek?

Tender as he whispered, “So fucking gorgeous, Hailey. I don’t think you know. I don’t think you have the first clue what you’re doing to me. The way you’re making me feel. The way I think you always have.”

A hint of uncertainty pulled to his strong brow, like he was trying to place where this feeling had come from.

I ignored the guilt that pressed at my ribs and brushed my fingertips down the scruff on the side of his face. “I think it’s you who’s ruining me.”

He smiled in that playful way. “Oh, darlin’…you’re all wrong. You are something I never expected.”

He took my hand and kissed across my knuckles.

My heart ached.

There was no question I was letting this go too far. This emotion that wound me in a fist and prodded me toward the type of pain I couldn’t take.

But I couldn’t let him go, either.

Not yet.

Not when he was looking at me like that.

I urged him up to sitting then climbed to my knees, totally bare and not even caring. I eased up between his legs that he had bent with his feet planted on the mattress.

Cody grinned as I reached for the hem of his shirt. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

His voice was all mischief and seduction.

“I figured since I am naked, this is only fair.”

Except it wasn’t fair at all. Not when I peeled his shirt up and over his head and the man was sitting there with his chest bare, all those colors and designs dancing over the bristling muscle that ticked and flexed underneath.

The man so powerful.

Want trembled my thighs.

But he was more than this gorgeous exterior.

More than I’d imagined.

I’d thought him shallow.

A jerk.

So careless in his actions that he didn’t care who he hurt as he barged through his days seeking pleasure.

But I knew he was more than that. I could see it in his eyes and feel it whispering through his spirit.

I think I’d known it then, too, but I’d been so riddled with guilt that I couldn’t see through the pain.

I reached out and ran my fingertips over the clock that rested over his heart.

The disfigured hands set in a mournful cry that I couldn’t quite hear.

“Why does this sing of sorrow?”

If I wasn’t paying such close attention, I might not have noticed the way he flinched. The misery the connection caused.