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Great! I haven’t even processed the whole Glenn thing, and now I must deal with Brett?
“Sure.” I take a step back. Aware escaping Brett is near impossible. Even if my head wanted to, my body would fight me and lose.
He looks around my place, paperwork and brochures scattered everywhere. “Looks like you’ve been busy.” He circles back to me.
His eyes settle on my face.
Breaking free of his gaze, I glance around my apartment. “You could say that.” I smile at the lie. I’ve been thinking about him and Glenn’s disappearance.
He walks over to my kitchen table. “And here I thought…” He looks down at a brochure. He picks it up. “You were trying to avoid me.”
“Why would I do that?”
Ignoring my question, he opens the brochure and looks at it. “How’d it go with the detective?”
Okay. He wants to get right to it. Well, so do I. “He just wanted to know if I had any idea where Glenn might be.”
“And?” Not meeting my watchful eyes, he closes the pamphlet. “Do you?”
“No.” I swallow hard, unable to stop myself from asking the question I need to know the answer to. “Do you?” I inhale my next breath and hold it, waiting for his response while wishing he’d look up at me but fearful of what I might see when he does.
He calmly sets the brochure back on the table, taking his time to respond as I suffocate for the answer. He taps the table with the tip of his finger.
“Is that why you’ve been evading me?” His long lashes lift. His powerful stormy eyes meet mine, pushing the air free from my lungs.
“No,” I say, the long-winded exhale shaking my body. “Like I said…” I pause as he starts to move toward me. “I’ve been busy,” I whisper. His scent, presence, and power overshadow everything.
How can one man shut me down like an unplugged appliance?
He steals my power. Turns off everything that makes me work.
I’m conflicted. I love it but hate it.
I like when I don’t feel anything but him.
His energy is all I need to function.
All I need to breathe.
I’m not used to having that kind of power taken from me. Yet I want to hand over the switch when it comes to him. I want him to maintain control. I want him to start me. Every feeling, I want it to come from his power.
Some may say it’s dangerous, but I think it’s freeing.
Staying away from him for the past week has been hell.
His intense energy reaches me. Fills me everywhere.
The overload pushes my back into the counter.
He stops in front of me, raiding my personal space. I welcome the invasion and hold his gaze as he looks intently down at me.
“When I was younger…” He pauses, his view dropping to my mouth. “I’d be up in my bedroom listening to my parents fight. The screams. The slamming of doors. It sometimes went on for hours. Then I’d hear his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. I’d pray he didn’t come to one of our rooms. I’d sit waiting in fear.” His dark eyes slowly rise to mine. “Is that how I make you feel, Cassie?”
Stunned by the question, I imagine that scared little kid. He thinks I’m afraid of him like he was his father. Is that why he believes I stayed away?
Is it? I don’t know the answer. I’ve been searching for it all week.
His hand lifts. The soft and gentle touch of his thumb running down my cheek awakens me to the answer.
