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Her lips parted just a little, like he’d blindsided her. And so just to drive home his point, he did something he’d feared doing earlier. He took a step closer. Made it clear that despite his reservations, he would lower his defenses if that’s what it took to break through a few of hers.
But the change in proximity made his fingers ache to reach out and touch her.
“Don’t.” She sucked in a shuddering breath, like the command hurt her about as much as it did him. “Please.”
His thoughts flashed to what he knew about her. The violent circumstances that had exiled him to Harlow. The years of wondering what had happened.
“It’s your family again, isn’t it?” His voice rose, but she didn’t reply, wouldn’t even look at him. “Emilia, are you in danger?”
His heart clamored, and his mind fumbled with every worst-case scenario. All while her eyes dulled with a hard edge, her skin turning ashen. “I’m fine, Blaine. Just… Everything’s fine.”
A terse laugh tore through his throat. She’d always been a terrible liar, and right now, that lying only made a fool of them both. What wasn’t she saying? What were the consequences if she did speak up?
He prowled closer, his motivation more to do with intimidating her into talking than trying to touch her. If she didn’t speak, he couldn’t help. “Tell me.”
Her gaze shot back, hot and hostile, though the rest of her body pressed deeper into the counter. “Leave it alone, Blaine.”
“Tell me what’s happened.” He shifted closer, his voice a low growl, all while she squeezed her lips into a defiant line.
Well, he could do defiant too. He took his final step and closed the space, bringing his body within less than an inch of hers. She cut the silence with a sharp intake of air, warmth radiating off her body and onto his in a luxurious wave.
She felt that wave too. From him. Her shaken reaction said as much. And like him, she felt more than just warmth. She felt the charge pinging between them.
Fuck.
Even as he sought to get the information he needed to help her, he had to wrap his fingers into tight fists to keep from taking her in his arms. From lifting her onto the sink and letting nature run its course.
Hell. What was that about?
He crushed the desire as quickly as it started. This wasn’t the time to get horny over some woman he hadn’t seen for an entire decade.
She’s not just ‘some woman’ though, is she?
Right. Even that admission scrubbed at him like extra coarse sandpaper over cheap pine, which made staying away from her even more critical. She needed his help without him lusting over her. He needed to find out what trouble she was in to satisfy the dumbass need to throw himself at anything posing a threat to this woman.
Shit. I really am pathetic.
Her gaze ignited from wide-eyed confusion to twisted anger, and she brought her palms to his chest, attempting and failing to push him away.
She shoved again, her delicate build working against her.
“Look around you.” He held firm, even though her expression darkened further. “Who else are you going to talk to?”
“I don’t want to talk.” More pushing, and her words shot out in a slap of loud defense. She used her balled-up fists now to beat at his chest. “Stop. Move out of my way.”
“No.” He grabbed her wrists. “And being angry doesn’t give you the right to hit me.”
“You’re the one not letting me leave.” She swung her captured wrists side to side but wasn’t strong enough to break free. “I said, move.”
“I heard you.” He lifted his voice to meet hers. “First, tell me what’s happened.”
This time she gave no reply. Well, unless a solid kick to his shin counted as no reply. Instant pain coursed through his leg, and his eyes stung from the sharp agony. He did his best not to grunt, or swear, or double over, half-expecting to see a visible dent in his leg the moment he looked down.
With her point made, he moved back, though the sheen across her forehead might have left anyone thinking she was the one who’d been attacked. Thank goodness, he’d heard Wayne and Jacob leave some time ago. Otherwise, there’d be all kinds of strange chatter at the shop tomorrow.
Shit! He replayed what had just happened. There’d been her refusing to talk, him moving in closer, her telling him to back up, and him not complying. Then she’d snapped. Understandable, yes, but her physical lashing out was still disproportionate, and he’d never in their time together given her a reason to feel threatened.
His gaze dropped instinctively to her hand and stopped at the still-healing graze over her knuckle. His stomach sank. “Is that how that happened?”
