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Instead of feeling sickened by his words—if that was his intent—my nipples tightened, and I felt the blood rushing in my veins as he approached the kitchen.
Lungs burning, my fight-or-flight instincts kicked in. He watched me as he moved around the island, but it was different than usual.
I felt…hunted.
I veered the other way, rushing off and through the door into the dining room.
His hand snapped at mine, and he almost caught me. I let out a shocked laugh as I sped up, rushing around the table.
As I made it to the doorway, my mind raced with the peculiarity of what was happening, and it keyed me further into the fact that my husband wasnotokay.
Hearing his heavy footsteps behind me, I rushed inside the living room. I made to run between the sofas, but he followed me, cornering me, until I was backed up against the window.
My heart was pounding like crazy from the run and the weird adrenaline rush this had triggered, and because windows and I were friends, I'd admit, my core started to ache.
Standing there, in my birthday suit, completely naked as I stared at my also naked husband, I had no idea what was happening when I found myself getting turned on, but Eoghan wasn't similarly afflicted—his cock wasn't even hard as he approached me.
This wasn't about sex.
So what the hell was it about?
I felt the glass against my spine, so cold against my heated flesh, and I slid to the side as he came nearer.
This was Eoghan.
He'd never hurt me.
Pissing me off was another matter entirely.
Whateverthiswas, it was about him.
Whatever it was that was keeping him up at night. That had him flinching at sounds and wearing sunglasses outside even though it was getting dark at six.
“Eoghan. What’s going on?”
“Inessa,” he crooned, like I was the wild beast here, not him.
Something flickered in his eyes, some warmth, like he was coming back to me. As if he’d been somewhere else.
I knew he had PTSD—whether he thought he did or not was another matter entirely—but this was the first time it had manifested like this.
It spoke of my confidence in him that I took a leap of faith.
Literally.
I hurled myself at him, and while he jerked in surprise at the move, he managed to steady himself but it was too late.
We fell backwards thanks to my tackling him like we were playing a goddamn game of football, with the only consolation being that there was a soft landing as we collided with the sofa.
Then, he was on top of me, looming over me, his face an inch away from mine.
Brennan had taught me enough self-defense moves that I could reverse this position if need be, but Eoghan whispered, “Imagine being at the end of my crosshairs. Imagine not knowing that your life was about to end. Imagine not knowing that I see every move you make.
“Instead of landing on a sofa, you get a bullet to the chest or worse, to the head.” His mouth tightened as he pressed his forehead against mine. “Can you imagine that?”
So that was what this was about!
He was scared of losing me.
