She looked past me toward the tree line, still jumpy. “I thought I saw someone.”
“Probably just a shadow,” I said, glancin’ over my shoulder anyway. Habit. “You shouldn’t be out here alone, not this late.”
“I wasn’t ready to go inside.” Her voice cracked around the words, soft and raw. “I just needed to think.”
I nodded. “Yeah. I figured.”
The night pressed close around us, heavy with the smell of pine and wet earth. Somewhere, a frog croaked near the pond, breakin’ the silence.
“I don’t know what to think,” she said finally. “About what I saw. About you.”
“That why you’re out here—runnin’ from me?”
Her head snapped up. “I’m not running.”
“Then talk to me.” I stepped closer, slow enough she could pull away if she wanted. She didn’t. “What you walked in on, it wasn’t what you think.”
“She was naked, Chain.”
“I know.” The words came out rough, even but tight. “And if I could erase that image from your head, I would. She came in tryin’ to stir shit up, tryin’ to tempt me to fuck her. I told her to get the hell out. Fired her on the spot.”
Her eyes searched mine, doubt flickerin’ like a heartbeat. “Ruby told me that.”
“Then you know it’s the truth.” I dragged a hand through my hair, fightin’ the frustration that kept clawing at my chest. “You think I’d ever touch that woman again after you?”
Her breath hitched, a soft sound in the dark. “I don’t know what to think anymore,” she whispered.
I took another step, closin’ the space between us until the heat of her body met mine. “Then don’t think,” I murmured. “Just look at me. Do you see a man lyin’ to you right now?”
She didn’t answer, but her gaze didn’t move either.
The air stretched tight between us, thick with everythin’ we hadn’t said. Her hands trembled once, then steadied against mychest like she couldn’t decide whether to shove me away or hold on.
“You scare me sometimes,” she admitted.
I tilted my head. “Yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because you make me feel things I don’t know how to handle.”
I exhaled slow, the sound rough. “Guess we’re even then, darlin’.”
She didn’t move. Not when my hand slid from her arm to the curve of her waist, not when I bent low enough for her breath to brush my lips.
“Say the word,” I said, my voice barely more than a growl. “And I’ll back off.”
But she didn’t. Her breath hitched again, mouth partin’ just enough to make my pulse kick hard.
“I shouldn’t want this right now,” she whispered.
“I know.”
Her fingers curled tighter against my chest, like she meant to push me away, only she didn’t. She stayed.
The silence stretched, hummin’ with tension, with restraint, with every second she didn’t walk away.
And then she leaned in, just enough for her forehead to rest against mine, her voice barely audible.
“I hate how much I want you.”
