He takes a step closer.Not touching me, but close enough that I have to tilt my head back to keep eye contact.
"If someone's looking for you, I can help."
"You don't even know me."
"I know enough."
"You know nothing."
His gaze holds mine."I know I'm not going to let whoever this is get to you."
My breath catches in my throat.
He means it.I can see it in his eyes.This man I barely know is standing in my living room at three in the morning, making promises he has no business making.
And God help me, I want to believe him.
"You should go," I say, but my voice comes out wrong.Too quiet.Too unsteady.
"Probably," he agrees.
He doesn't move.
Neither do I.
The air between us feels charged.Dangerous.Like something is about to break.
"Timothy," I start, but I don't know how to finish the sentence.
His gaze drops to my mouth.
Everything in me goes still.He reaches up and cups the back of my neck with one hand.His palm is rough and solid, and the touch sends a jolt straight through me.
Then his mouth is on mine.
The kiss isn't gentle.It's hungry and desperate, and I'm kissing him back before my brain catches up.His other hand goes to my hip, pulling me closer, and I go without thinking.My hands find his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the thin cotton of his shirt.His tongue slides against mine, and I make a sound I haven't made in months.Want.Need.I've been so numb for so long, and now I'm feeling everything at once.
He walks me backward until my shoulders hit the wall, and then he's pressed against me, solid and real.His mouth moves to my jaw, my neck, and I tip my head back to give him access.His hand slides under the hem of my tank top, fingers splaying across my ribs, and I arch into the touch because I want this, I want him, I want to feel something other than afraid.
"Carla," he says against my skin, and the sound of my name in that voice unravels something in me.
His mouth finds mine again, harder this time, more demanding, and I'm drowning in him.His hand moves higher, thumb brushing the underside of my breast, and for a second it feels good, it feels right.
And then it doesn't.
Randall's hands.Randall's weight pinning me down.Randall's voice telling me to stop fighting, just relax, you know you want this.
I shove at Timothy's chest.Hard.
He steps back immediately, hands up, eyes searching my face.
"Stop," I gasp."I can't.I can't do this."
"Okay," he says.Just that.Okay.
He's breathing hard, but he doesn't come closer.Doesn't ask why.Doesn't push.
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold it together."Sorry.Shit.I'm sorry."
