Page 41 of Nothing to Fear

“You can do this. Your hair changed, not who you are. I see you, Willow.”

She blinked up at him. He wiped the tears still streaming with his fingertips while keeping an arm around her.

“Same hazel eyes that can’t decide if they want to be brown or green.” He brushed his knuckles across her cheek, a whisper of touch, and she leaned into his caress. “Same kind spirit.”

Her sobs slowed, her breathing steadied, her body growing calmer.

“Same brilliant mind. You’re a survivor. I see you.”

He skimmed her lower lip with the pad of his thumb, heat burning his face. She stilled, like she was holding her breath the same as him. He’d been attracted to scores of women…and then there was this.

Not mere attraction but a draw far stronger and more intense.

Kissing her would be a catastrophic mistake. An epic disaster. But only a blind monk would have the willpower to resist.

Her hands flew to his cheeks as she rose on her tiptoes and yanked his mouth down to hers. Their lips locked—his ability to think rationally shut down on impact—and their tongues tangled in a sweet, filthy slide of a kiss.

His heart kicked into a frantic pounding like machine gunfire against his breastbone.

On a sharp, mingled breath, it turned deeper, hot and hard and hungry.

Her supple body pressed tight to his, her leg hooking on his hip like she wanted to climb him. All her soft warmth ground against the growing bulge in his pants. Every single point of connection sparked more heat.

He had to stop this, stop her, stop himself somehow.

Then she slid her hand along his torso, down to his erection. He nearly burst from his skin. Gripping the nape of her neck and her hip with his other hand, he jerked her closer. The hard suction of her mouth, the way she licked and laved, tied him up in knots.

Shuffling her back against the wall, he palmed her ass and caressed her breasts, flicking a thumb hard over her nipple.

It registered on some distant level when the thin mesh of her bra tore in his rough hands that he was being too aggressive. But her moans grew throaty and her hips rocked against his.

The absolute last thing he’d do was take her in a rush, in a bathroom, without condoms, when he needed to protect this scared, trusting woman from any danger. And that included him.

His alarm beeped like a time bomb, and the fantasy detonated. This wasn’t make-believe with no consequences to actions, and this wasn’t a mission where the fallout didn’t matter.

In an act of sheer will, he ended the kiss. Their breaths came in ragged pants. There was too much space between their lips and at the same time not nearly enough.

She had the most beautiful mouth, lush and pink. Every atom of his being longed to hold her, taste her in a way that would erase necessary boundaries, but he had better sense.

“I’m sorry for taking advantage of you.” He’d underestimated his weakness and overestimated how far out of control things could spin in five minutes.

“No, you’re not taking advantage.” She drew her mouth dangerously close to his, leaning into him, and he was in misery.

Torn.

“I am. You’re upset, vulnerable. You needed comfort, not canoodling.” What kind of lowlife was he? With a hot stab in his gut, he dropped his arms and staggered away. “That was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened.”

He cut his eyes from the hurt, confused look on her face and left, slamming the door shut behind him. His conscience was lead-heavy, and that sensation he was losing rushed up again. He wished he could push a button, turn ice-cold and disconnect, but his usual self-distancing techniques were failing. He holstered his Maxim, grabbed the extra 9mm from his go bag, and got the hell out of the bedroom.

* * *

Willow leaned against the wall. The ghost of Gideon’s kiss haunted her lips, the taste of him plaguing her tongue. Fingers shaking, she traced her wet mouth. A cruel echo of sensation throbbed between her legs. She closed her eyes, still feeling his arms bandaged around her, his hot hands on her bare skin. His fingers tight across her nape, running along her spine, clutching her bottom, kneading her breasts, pinching her nipple—causing a pain that hurt so good, her whimper poured down his throat.

In those few heated moments, she’d forgotten the fear, the dread, her sick father home alone, the uncertainty of the future, her utter lack of control in this uncontrollable nightmare.

Gideon had filled her up with something intoxicating and intense, the most intimate experience she’d ever had. Nothing else had existed besides the desire running liquid through her.

And for some reason, he still walked away.