Or maybe it was a conscious one. It was hard to tell with her blood pounding in her ears and her brain turning to mush.
“Call it professional curiosity.” He glanced from her mouth to her eyes. “I find myself puzzled by what would make a fellow blackmailee cry into the kitchen sink.”
“I don’t think ‘blackmailee’ is a word.”
“Sonya…” Her name was a deep, raspy purr. His tone said he knew she was stalling.
“I was crying for a man I once knew. The one you reminded me of when you were…you. When you were Majid Abass. Before all the plastic surgery.”
“So…truly not the jewel thief?”
“No.” She swallowed.
“But you said you loved him.”
“I’ll never love any man the way I loved—”
There she went again, word vomiting the truth when she’d be better served with a lie.
Angel, who seemed to be the stillest man on the planet, grew stiller yet. Then, ever so slowly, his eyes slid back to her mouth.
“I am going to hug you now, Sonya.”
Breath shuddered from her lungs. “What? Why?” That wasn’t what she’d expected him to say, especially not after the way he’d been eyeballing her lips.
And, no, it hadn’t escaped her notice that his words were incredibly similar to the ones Mark had spoken that rainy night while they’d been crowded into that dark Parisian doorway. How could two men be so different and yet so much alike?
“Because you need it.”
And then…oh, and then he stepped forward and wrapped his big arms around her. It was like being hit with a live wire. A current blasted through her, burning her from the inside out.
She balled one hand into a fist so tight her knuckles cracked. The other squeezed her water glass so hard she was surprised it didn’t shatter.
“Relax,” he instructed.
“Why are you always telling me to do that?” She tried not to turn her head into his neck and snort in his spicy aftershave like an addict with a tempting line of cocaine. Memories of Mark tried to intrude, memories of how he’d eschewed cologne and aftershave in preference for lilac soap, but she shoved them away.
“You are strung as tight as a piano wire. It cannot be healthy.”
Wow. Great. The almighty Prince of Shadows was lecturing her on her health. All while hugging her. How bizarre was her life right now?
It wasn’t one of those half-hearted hugs either. It was a full-on hip-to-hip, chest-to-chest hug, arms tight and big, wide hand splayed against the middle of her back. Angel might be all aloof and untouchable, but when it came to a hug, the man committed completely.
Her heart threatened to pop like a balloon. A hiccup of anguish slipped from her throat. She couldn’t help herself; she melted against him. Soaked up his odd affection and let it fill all the cracks in her armor that had developed over the last six months.
She hadn’t realized it, but Angel was right. She needed a hug. Needed to feel human connection to remind herself she wasn’t alone in this.
Then she realized how self-indulgent she was being. How…weak.
Pulling back, she whispered, “Thank you. That’s enough.”
His brow pinched as he stepped away, breaking the connection of their bodies. She shivered as the room’s cool air rushed in to replace his body heat.
The pity she saw in his eyes had her grumbling, “When you look at me like that, I want to go crawl into bed and throw the covers over my head.”
“How do I look at you?” he asked.
“Like I’m pathetic. Like I’m a disappointment to you. But that’s crazy because you don’t even know me.” Her insides, which a minute ago had been so soft and gooey, were now crawling with tension.
