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So what had gotten her in a snit?
It just wasn’t like her to be annoyed at something and not speak her mind. She had encouraged him to do so when troubled, so why, when something obviously troubled her, didn’t she speak to him about it?
She walked ahead of him, and where usually her steps were light, she now more stomped.
“Women,” he mumbled.
She spun around. “You have something to say, speak up.”
She looked ready for a fight, and he had no intention of obliging her. He simply shook his head.
She turned with a huff and almost stumbled. He was at her side in an instant, his hand reaching for her arm.
She slapped it away. “I can manage myself.”
Trey stepped back, surprised by her terse response.
She continued walking, and he thought it wise to remain walking behind her. When she was ready, she would talk with him and let him know what had her angry. He wished he could sense the problem, but he couldn’t. So he would wait.
Bliss almost stumbled again, and, again, she pushed him away.
She was not watching her steps as keenly as she usually did, and so she suffered for it, but he had no intention of warning her to pay attention.
When she tripped the fourth time, he didn’t bother to offer assistance, and she swung around and glared at him.
“You would let me fall?” she accused.
Trey had had enough. He marched over to her, grabbed her around the waist, and yanked her up hard against him. “Now you will tell me what has you so agitated that you snap at me like a harping wife.”
She poked him in the chest. “You left me tormented, and it haunts me.”
He shook his head. “What do you mean? I’ve done nothing to you.”
She gave him a hard shove, and he released her. She stepped away. “Aye, you’re right about that. You did nothing.”
He went to take hold of her again, and she pushed his hand away.
He would have none of her rejection. He grabbed her around the waist once more though this time he tightened his hold on her. “I will not let you go until you explain.”
Her eyes ignited with fury, but it wasn’t anger he saw in them; it was passion.
“You touched me, made me ache for you, and left me wanting. And now that ache will not leave me.”
He shook his head. “I would remember touching you.”
“How could you?” she said, shaking a finger at him. “When I turned around in your arms, you were asleep and I”—she shook her head—“I was left aching for you.”
He stared at her, bewildered. He didn’t recall touching ... suddenly he remembered. “I thought it was a dream.”
“It wasn’t,” she said, her voice turning soft. “You touched me like I’ve never been touched. You made me feel things I’ve never felt, and you made me want you like I’d never thought possible.”
He ran his finger gently along her cheek. “I am so sorry. I never meant—”
Her face drained of all anger, though passion still stirred in her eyes. “I am the one who should be sorry. I don’t know what happened to me. I woke angry at you and feeling unsettled. Instead of talking with you, I wanted to ...”
“Punish me?”
She pressed her hand to his chest, and said softly, “No, I wanted you to finish what you started, but...”
