Page 18 of The Image of You

She sighed, crumbling a cracker over her plate. “My mother only understands what she wants to understand. I worked five nights in a row. My shifts are normally four nights on, three nights off. But I had to work an extra one because one of the girls was sick.”

“Then why can’t she understand you needed sleep? She’s your mother, for fuck’s sake.”

She cast a look at me over my language, but I ignored her.

“It’s complicated. She’s always annoyed with me, no matter what I do.”

That puzzled me, and I studied her guarded expression. “If you think that will scare me off, you can think again.”

She pushed her plate away in exasperation. “Why is it so important for you to know all this?”

I picked up a small piece of cheese, placing it on a cracker. I held it to her lips. “You’ve hardly eaten anything. Open up.”

I waited patiently until her lips parted, and I slipped the morsel in.

“I want to know all about you.” I tore a slice of bread and dragged it through the olive oil and balsamic vinegar I had mixed on a plate. I waited until she swallowed and held it up for her, smiling in satisfaction as she accepted it. I would happily feed her all night if that was what it took to make sure she ate.

“I may be far more trouble than I’m worth.”

Those words made me frown.

“I doubt that.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” she said, then paused. “I wasn’t going to come back.”

“I figured that out, but you did.” I took a deep swallow of my wine. I needed to know. “Why?”

“I couldn’t–I couldn’t stay away,” she admitted. “I tried, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I swore I’d only check on you and then leave.”

I stood, cradling her face between my hands and kissing her, unable to bear one more moment without doing so. “I don’t want you to stay away,” I murmured against her lips. I didn’t understand the draw I had to her, but it was there. I was certain she felt it as well, but she was fighting it.

She shivered, the smallest breath of a sigh escaping her mouth as I kissed her. I rained light whispers of kisses on her mouth, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, finally nuzzling her forehead. I wrapped her up close and rocked us for a minute, before helping her off the stool and guiding her over to the chair. Once she was sitting, I fetched our freshly topped-off glasses of wine, pulled up the ottoman, and situated myself in front of her.

“Talk to me.”

She hesitated, so I gathered up her hands, kissing the soft knuckles. “Tell me your story.”

“My dad died when I was eight.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t remember a lot, but I remember his hugs, his laugh, and the way I felt so safe when he was around. He was larger-than-life.” She tugged on her hair, smiling ruefully. “I got his hair.”

I curled my finger around the silky texture of her long tresses. “I like it.”

“I think my mother would prefer it to be like hers.”

“Why? It’s gorgeous.”

“It stands out. She prefers it if I blend in.”

I rolled my eyes. “You are too special to blend in. She needs to open her eyes and see that fact.”

“Thank you.” She frowned. “Adam, we barely know each other. Are you sure you want to hear this? It’s not your usual let’s get to know each other conversation. It’s…personal and not exactly pleasant.”

I studied her nervous posture. She was right; this wasn’t the sort of conversation I would have with someone I had just met. But Ally was different—how or why, I still didn’t understand, but she was. I wanted her, and in order to have her, I had to hear this.

I pressed a kiss to her lips. “I’m sure. I want to know. Hot getting-to-know-each-other sex will be far more enjoyable, I guarantee you that…but we’ll tackle this first.”