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She smiled sadly, curling into herself even more. “I know.”
29
As he got closer to her apartment, Julian couldn’t resist putting his hand on a sleeping Skylar. He felt her body rise with her even breaths and sighed.
What the hell were they doing to one another?
When Hardy Priese had called to invite him to dinner, of all things, Julian had accepted out of sheer curiosity. And when the man had mentioned Julian doing an article for him or perhaps even handing over his money for Priese to invest, Julian had wanted to laugh out loud and then tell the man to go to hell. The only thing that had stopped him was the knowledge that Priese was Skylar’s boss, and he might, knowing they were even remotely connected, take Julian’s actions out on her. Then he’d remembered how the man had treated Skylar at the awards banquet before her speech, and he’d figured, what the hell? Priese knew how wealthy and powerful Julian was, so why not give him a little incentive to treat Skylar with more respect by telling Priese that he was involved with her and not just that, but she was his girlfriend.
It was the least he could do for Skylar, given how much he’d hurt her when he’d told her he was passing on his second opportunity to make her come. Her hurt hadn’t been about the sex. It had been more than that. It had been about their connection, the one they’d both felt at the Masquerade Party. It was about severing that connection and, in doing so, leaving a hole in them both that might never be filled.
He swiped a hand over his face, feeling tired to his bones.
He looked at Skylar again. Her position and her white-blond hair hid most of her face, but he caught a glimpse of the tip of her nose and her pouty mouth. She was still curled in on herself as if she needed to protect herself from not just him but the entire world. He sensed it was a position she was familiar with, and he fucking hated that.
He remembered how she’d reacted the last time he’d tried to make her come, how he’d begun to suspect that someone had hurt her, and the return of that suspicion had him gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles whitened and his blood simmered with rage. He’d written multiple stories about women who had been harassed or sexually assaulted and how the effects had insidiously infected their lives for years after. Some healed, but some never did. And seeing Skylar curled so protectively around herself brought forth a painful wealth of emotions that he’d lived most of his life avoiding.
No, not avoiding. He’d thought himself incapable offeelingthem.
Turns out he was wrong.
He barely knew Skylar except for what he’d dug up on her so far. He hadn’t even fucked her. And yet he knew without a shadow of a doubt—he would kill to protect her. Maybe even to avenge her.
His utter certainty in this regard told him once again that things between them had gone too far. That if he continued to see her, she’d soon hold the power to destroy him.
And that, he couldn’t allow.
Not when he’d survived so much already.
He should keep going. Finish the drive to her place, shake her awake, escort her to her apartment, and leave her there.
He should forget what he’d impetuously and so dramatically said about getting to the heart of her.
He didn’twantto get to the heart of her because he couldn’t give her his.
He’d learned a long time ago what he was good at, and being loved and loving in return wasn’t it. His body, his mind, his wit, and his skills in bed, yes—those were things that served him and those around him well (excluding the immoral scum whose crimes he took great pleasure in exposing, of course). They were all he had to give, even if with Skylar, he sometimesfeltthere was more to him. Sometimes felt like his heart hadn’t been completely pummeled to dust the way he’d thought. Sometimes felt like if he just fed his heart—more blood, more sustenance, more Skylar—it would begin to pump and beat in a way it hadn’t for a very, very long time.
He’d seen the way Skylar had reacted when Regina had approached him.
She’d known who Regina was to him, and she hadn’t been able to handle it.
Few women would, of course, but other women didn’t matter to him.
For some inexplicable but also undeniable reason, Skylar did.
She’d ceased to be a challenge. A mystery. A puzzle to solve and then fuck. At least she’d stopped beingjustthose things. Now she was the woman he desired. The woman he respected. The woman he wanted to protect and shelter and care for and make laugh. The woman he wanted to spar with and argue with and challenge. The only woman in the world who, for the first time in almost twenty years, he trulydidwant to get to the heart of.
But as jealous as she’d been of Regina, her acting out based on that jealousy had revealed her utter disdain for Julian and his past.
She’d never be able to truly accept that he’d been an escort and still respect him. Still want him. Still, if it came to that someday . . . love him.
Eventually, she’d remember what he’d done, who he was, and she’d leave.
So it was better that he didn’t try to regenerate the organ beating inside his chest.
Only common sense that he didn’t entertain the notion, let alone speak of it.
Safer if he didn’t admit that perhaps Margaux had been right about fate.
