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With the softest of kisses Clark shuts me up, my eyes widening at the slight pressure of his mouth against mine, but the biggest shock isn’t the kiss, no, it’s the absence of fear, the crippling fear of being touched that never comes.
A second passes and Clark pulls away, regret filtering into his eyes when he sees the shocked look on my face.
“Fuck, I screwed up again, didn’t I?” That angular jaw of his clenches, tension overtaking his features. He really does look like a Greek God, a beautiful, tense, God.
Shaking my head, I say, “No… It’s not you. It wasn’t the kiss. It was…” Pausing, I stare into Clark’s gaze which softens as I say the next words. “I usually get scared when someone touches me, especially when I don’t see it coming. I thought I was going to freak out, but the fear never came.”
Of course Clark grins. “It’s my charm, it scares your fear away.”
I roll my eyes and bite into my lower lip to stop the smile I know is longing to appear. I cannot allow this guy’s ego to get any bigger than it already is.
“What does it mean? I’m still afraid of touch. I know I am, but I’m not… I’m not afraid of you.” The words roll off the tongue with ease.
“It means you trust me, that you know I will never do anything to hurt you. It means you should be mine.”
I blink, unsure if I just heard him correctly. “Be mine? Like, your girlfriend?”
“Yup, the first, the one, the only,” he answers flirtatiously, though it doesn’t match the heat flickering in his eyes, a heat that tells me he wants to devour me from the inside out. Part of me wants to test Clark’s theory, to see if I can let go of the fear, but another part of me is too consumed with fear, worry that we’ll discover I’m nothing but broken, and I can’t do that to Clark. I can’t vow to be with him, but not be with him. Clark deserves better, more and even if a sliver of me does want him I’m not selfish enough to give in to that want.
“We can’t,” I say, feeling my chest fall into my stomach the moment I speak.
Clark tries to hide his disapproval by getting up and shoving his hands into his pockets, giving me a grin that I’m sure has set many panties before ablaze.
“Your loss, sweetheart.” He wiggles his eyebrows before heading toward the door. “You know where I am if you change your mind,” are his parting words as he walks out of the bedroom, leaving me alone with my bleeding heart.
Whatever this is that I’m feeling it equates to wanting Clark and if there was ever any one I was going to try something with, it would be him.
The only man’s touch I can withstand…Clark Jefferson’s.
???
Later that night after a shower and lots of talking myself off the edge of a mental cliff that Ava and Vance show up. For the first time in a very long time, I force myself into a pair of jeans and a blouse that doesn’t look three times to big. My straight hair falls in soft strands down my back.
Clark’s eyes nearly pop out of his head when he sees me, and I won’t lie I have to wipe at the side of my mouth a little to make sure I’m not drooling. Goodness gracious, why does he have to look so good? He’s not wearing anything special, a North Woods University baseball t-shirt and a pair of worn blue jeans that hug his tone legs and butt perfectly. But he’s Clark, and he could wear a trash bag and make it look good.
He offers me his hand, which I take, appreciating his need to make sure I’m okay above anything else. At least I know when everyone else fails to get me there is one person I can count on. That is if I don’t make a mess of things by letting my feelings get involved.
“You look beautiful.” He leans down and whispers into my ear, his hot breath fanning against my skin, causing shivers to cascade down my spine. I don’t know how he can think of such a thing. I’m not wearing a speck of makeup, my hair isn’t done, and I’m not wearing anything that will show off my body. In fact, I’m dressed to conceal it, only stepping a little out of comfort zone with jeans and t-shirt.
“You look beautiful too, but more like a GQ magazine model,” I say back, peeking up at him through my lashes.
“Don’t inflate his ego any more than it already is, Emerson. The fucker might float away if his head gets any bigger,” Vance says boldly. Ava nudges him in the side to get him to shut up, but there’s no point anymore. I’ve come to realize in the short amount of time of knowing him that Vance doesn’t mince words.
