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Shane came up to her and stole a kiss while she was musing. “Morning,” he said. “Sip?”
She held the coffee cup up to his lips, but he took it from her hands and turned it so he could put his lips where hers had been before he drank. “Sweet,” he said with a wicked gleam in his eyes before he gave the cup back to her.
“I don’t know how you can say that,” she argued. “I don’t put sugar or sweetener in my coffee.”
“I know.”
He raised and lowered his eyebrows suggestively, and then she got it. “Oh.” A flush of warmth spread through her body, as if she’d been the one on the treadmill.
The smile was suddenly wiped from Shane’s face, and he went completely still. And Carly saw the goose bumps forming on his arms. “Son of a bitch!” he whispered in a furious undertone. She put her coffee cup down on the nearest surface and placed a hand on the tense muscles of his left arm. His skin was warm to the touch, but she knew to him the room was suddenly freezing.
“It’s okay.” She didn’t know what else to say to him. She wanted to reassure him somehow, but all she could say was, “It’s okay, Shane. You’re okay.”
The seconds ticked by like hours. Thirty seconds, she reminded herself feverishly. He’d told her the episodes lasted roughly thirty seconds, then the symptoms disappeared like magic.
She mentally counted—one thousand eighteen, one thousand nineteen, one thousand twenty—and had just passed twenty-seven when the goose bumps beneath her fingers vanished.
She let out the breath she’d been holding, sucked in air and let that out, as well. She opened her mouth to say something—anything—when, with a muttered oath, Shane pulled away from her and stalked out the door.
She went after him. He was not doing this. He was not going to lick his wounds in private, like some kind of alpha wolf, and if he thought he was, he’d better think again. “Shane!”
She caught up with him as he was stripping his clothes off in the master bathroom. The shower was already running, warming up the water, but Carly grabbed his arm when he went to step into the shower stall. “You’re not doing this,” she told him fiercely.
“Not taking a shower?” He peeled her hand off his arm. “Sorry to be the one to break the news to you, but I usually shower after a hard workout. Most men do.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” She grabbed his arm again and shook it. “You’re not running away and dealing with this on your own.”
His face was closed, his eyes hard. “One, I’m not running away. Two, I’m dealing with it the only way I know how.”
Damn you, she wanted to say. Damn you for being such a stubborn, pigheaded man. Instead she said, “Talk to me, Shane. Please. Tell me what you’re feeling.”
“I’m not feeling anything except exhausted from twenty-five chin-ups, a hundred push-ups, a hundred sit-ups and an hour on the treadmill. And sweaty. I’m feeling sweaty, too. Does that satisfy you?”
It would have hurt less if he’d slapped her. She let go of his arm and stepped back away from him. “Fine,” she said, forcing the words past stiff lips. “You win. But then you always do, don’t you? Everything has to be your way or the highway.” Emotions rose up, choking her, and she couldn’t say anything more. Then she turned and walked out, refusing to let herself look back at him.
* * *
Shane thrust his head under the punishing shower spray, letting the hot water pummel him. He soaped himself all over, scrubbing his hide as if he could scrub away the memory of Carly’s face, pale and still, from his mind. As if he could wash away the memory of her stricken eyes as she said You win.
He’d hurt her, and that was like a dagger to his heart. The fact that he hadn’t meant to hurt her cut no ice with him. A man didn’t hurt a woman—that had been engrained in him as far back as he could remember. Not physically—never physically—but not emotionally, either.
Emotional distance. That’s what she’d insisted on four nights ago, although he’d known from the start it was a crock—Carly could no more maintain an emotional distance than he could fly unaided. But had she known somehow this was coming? Had she sensed that if she didn’t keep an emotional distance, he’d inevitably hurt her as he’d just done?
