Page 151 of Unlock My Heart

No escape, being that he’s behind me.

Feeling Fabien’s gaze on me has a warm flush starting at my neck and creeping down my chest.

“I’d follow this perfect ass anywhere,” he murmurs.

“Keep it up, and I’ll lead you into traffic,” I warn, and that gets a chuckle out of him.

A crack of thunder has me jumping, and Fabien appears beside me with his hand extended. “You can take it; I won’t judge you for it,” he encourages.

No, I do plenty of that myself.

I find myself wrapping my tiny hand into his.

“So soft and delicate⁠—”

“And breakable?” I fill in for him.

“And yet here you stand.”

The house rattles with a lightning strike that feels a little too close for comfort, and I find myself being wrapped in Fabien’s strong arms.

I lift my gaze to meet his. He’s looking at me like I really am everything. “I’ll never be your peace,” I blurt out.

For some reason, he finds that funny. “No, I’d imagine not.”

That rewards him with another chest smack.

With a grin, he takes me by the hand, leading us to the kitchen.

“Sit,” I tell him, feeling flustered as I go about fetching the leftovers and making him a plate.

I stick it in the microwave, and now with a lack of busyness to hide behind, I’m feeling exposed.

Fabien makes no effort to fill the uncomfortable silence, watching me as if his life depends on it. He doesn’t know that he should be watching me that closely, because his life may very well depend on it.

There it is again, that feeling awfully close to guilt gnawing at me.

“Something on your mind, piccola volpe?”

My spine straightens. “Not a thing.”

“Really? Because you seem pretty wound up,” he comments.

“It’s the storm,” I say with finality, wanting to shut down this line of questioning.

“I know a way to help you relax.”

That gets an exaggerated eye roll from me. “Let me guess: your cock is involved.”

“No. Do you want it to be?” He lifts an eyebrow.

I stick my tongue out at him, and he snaps his teeth. I’m too far away for him to reach me, and so I stick it out again for good measure.

“Stop waving the red cape at me,” Fabien teases.

“So you admit that you’re bullish?” I challenge.

He flinches. “Never been the smartest man in the room.”