Page 76 of Just One More Touch


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“Is that what I do?” I ask her and cock a brow.

“You act like you’re some hotshot who’s made it and doesn’t have to deal with the shit problems he creates and then gets mad when they come back and you finally have to deal with them.” Her voice rises as she talks, filling with more and more emotion.

“Go ahead and get it all off your chest,” I tell her, egging her on when I know I shouldn’t. “Tell me what you really think,” I scoff.

“You left me because you were a coward,” she sneers at me and then seems to realize what she said. She instantly backs down as she steadies her breathing, her shoulders rising and falling. She doesn’t look me in the eyes.

If I was a lesser man, I’d flinch from the venom in her tone.

“Is that really what you think of me?” I ask her, but I don’t wait for an answer. She just said it to hurt me.

This is why we don’t work together.

We push each other further and further just because we can. Driving each other into a darkness we’re desperate to be pulled out of. The worst part is that we each want the other to save us, yet we’re so damn willing to shove each other deeper into the abyss.

The realization takes the edge off my anger and I push from the desk, turning my back to her and running my hands through my hair as I stare at the ceiling. We were toxic for each other back then.Thisis toxic.

“Don’t turn your back on me,” Hally says with feigned strength and anger, but the underlying emotion is fear. Fear of loss.

“I don’t deserve this, Nathan,” she says and again, the anger has waned substantially, leaving vulnerability left in its place.

She’s afraid I’ll leave, but that’s never fucking happening again. I can deal with the anger. I’ll take it out on her a different way.

She grips my elbow and pulls me to face her and I let her. Staring down at her and containing everything I feel in this moment, all I can do is tell her, “You put a target on our past; you know that, don’t you? You put a target on me and my background.”

My voice is low and even and she wasn’t expecting it.

“I didn’t,” she says and her voice croaks and she swallows instead of finishing.

“You did,” I tell her as my anger raises, since she’s smart enough to know better. I won’t let her lie to me.

“I didn’t mean to,” she says as she stares back at me with contempt. “I didn’t mean to, Nathan,” she repeats and tries to calm herself down. She’s a whirlwind of emotion, chaotic and unsure of herself. That’s the Hally I know.

“I know you didn’t,” I tell her easily and it snaps her out of wherever she was in her head. I want to admonish her, tell her what she should have done and how she’s better than that, but it’s not what she needs. Not right now as her eyes get glossy with tears.

I don’t hesitate, I wrap my arms around her small body and pull her into me. Her fight is gone, and it’s my fault.

It’s all my fault.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers and then slowly, ever so slowly, wraps her hands around my waist and rests her head against my chest. Why does it feel so good to hold her close and know that my touch can soothe her?

It’s not fair. We’re set up to fail.

“Forgive me?” she asks weakly, and I can’t take it. I’m the one who needs to be forgiven. I reach up and brush my fingers along her throat before cupping her chin in my hand.

My thumb brushes along her bottom lip as I let the words fade in the space between us. I’m the one who needs to be forgiven. For everything.

I’m slow as I lower my lips to hers, but she’s quicker, desperate. And I love it. I love her when she does this. When she acts like she needs me more than she does her next breath.

“Lie down,” I whisper against her lips, and she falls easily onto the bed, her hands still in my hair and her thighs parting for me. The heat crackles between us.

I watch as her eyes close and her lips part just slightly, her chest rising and falling in a frantic rhythm. This is how she’s always given herself to me, with everything she has and full of vulnerability.

She’s perfect.

I leave an open-mouth kiss on her throat, feeling her body move beneath me, pushing against me and wanting more. My hands move of their own accord, knowing every inch as if she’d never left. As if she’s always belonged to me.

I unbutton her blouse slowly, my deft fingers slipping the buttons free one by one. Her hands trace along my knuckles as I do, her eyes glancing between my heated gaze and where my hands travel, slowly inching lower and lower. Her skin is soft and warm against my hands as I push the shirt aside and plant a small kiss and then another, lower and lower.

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