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Because the instant he’d looked into this woman’s honey-colored eyes, he’d wanted to lose himself, absolutely and completely, inside of her. He’d wanted her with such blazing force it almost pummeled him to the ground. He felt that now. But it was stronger. Pulling him out from the place where nothing mattered, the blessed place where he didn’t give a shit.
Something in her gaze snared and trapped him. There was passion there, in those eyes. Kindness. Compassion. And something deep and wounded. So deep and wounded, Cade could almost feel it in his own soul. If he still had a soul. So deep and wounded, he wanted to reach out and touch it, cup it, care for it, kiss it.
Wanting had never been as painful as it was now. He throbbed with the need to sink himself inside her, but he also trembled with the same force to touch her soft skin with his fingers, to tip her face back and look into her eyes, make her smile up at him, as if her smile suddenly mattered to him.
His self-loathing increased tenfold.
He had no right to feel this. He didn’t want her compassion or her smiles. But there was something so female about her that called to his male. He really hadn’t gotten a lot of hard-ons since his wife died. He was, like his friends said, a living corpse.
But corpses couldn’t smell a woman’s soap or shampoo or something fruity in the air. Corpses didn’t tense
up and feel every muscle contract. Corpses didn’t get this hard, this fucking fast.
He didn’t want to want anything. Much less her.
The fact that she had come here, making him think idiotic things about the softness of her skin, made him want to break her. Didn’t she see what he so clearly saw?
How pointless it was? How a little bitty person like her could do nothing to stop a monster so relentless and powerful?
“As I told you before, I’m from the Lincoln Heights Breast Cancer Foundation, seeking donations for not only our members, but locals in our area who lack insurance to cover their treatments…”
He watched her speak while a ton of sensations roiled inside of him.
Her sleek, winged eyebrows arched over clear amber-gold eyes and were framed by thick, spiky lashes that tilted attractively up at the corners. Her nose was delicate and slightly upturned, her face heart-shaped, and her mouth was small but pouty, and very, very pink.
He didn’t understand why.
Why he wanted her more than anything he’d wanted in years. More than dying.
Suddenly, looking into those eyes that were brave and at the same time scared and vulnerable, he wanted to strip her bare and lose himself inside of her, and help her, protect her, and destroy her, all at the same time.
He hadn’t fucked in years. Years. He hadn’t wanted anything but not to feel. Now he wanted to bury all of himself, every ounce of anguish, inside of that healthy, glowing, sweet body, until she stopped saying that word: cancer.
Just hearing that word made him seize up like he’d been dragged to the depths of hell. An image of Laura, young and dying, came to mind. And he was so angry to be reminded of it, he still wanted to yell at this woman and fling his laptop to the wall.
“… hoping that with the knowledge that your donation could be tax deductible—”
“Who do you think you are?” His whisper was barely audible as he slowly started walking toward her, watching her eyes go round. “Where in the hell do you get off?”
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t just come here and talk to me about cancer and make me feel like it’s my fault!”
Her eyes tripled in size. There was no mistaking she was afraid of him as she stood up on quavering legs and started backing away. “I never said it was your fault, Mr. West. All we want is your help. We can’t find the cure yet, but we can definitely boost survival rates. You could do so much for us!”
She laced her hands together as if in prayer and gave him a face that only made him wonder how she looked when a man made love to her, a face which made him want to get her naked and make her look up at him in just that way she was looking at him now. Like he was everything she’d ever wanted and more than she’d ever need.
God.
Had she any idea of what beast she was awakening?
And he was not talking about cancer here!
She thought she was doing the world a good deed … well, she was in for a sorry reality check. She wasn’t taking his millions. She wasn’t taking a damned penny; she’d unsettled him enough.
He caught her before she could retreat another step, and the touch of his bare hand on her bare elbow zapped straight to his balls. It made him hold on to her tighter as his cock twitched painfully inside his pants. “I work like a lunatic here,” he said warningly. “I don’t give away my money, even for pity. But I’ll tell you what. You want my money? I’ll gamble you for it. How about that for your charitable donation?”
Her spine shot up straighter as if the mere thought of him gambling his money away, instead of donating it, affronted her. “I’d be very happy to take your money from you, but I don’t have funds to play your little game.”
