She opened her mouth, prepared to go, take a step back, give an awkward wave, pack up, leave. Crap, maybe theyshouldeach go their own way. Whatever was going on here was too complicated. She sucked in a breath to say so, but he broke through it.
“You’re a lot.”
Was that an insult? “A lot of what?”
His exhale heated her face, sent shivers to nerve endings, made her nipples ache. “A lot for a man who’s had nothing for so long.”
Ohhell.
She should step back and give him room.
Instead, she tightened her hold, gave him her weight, and took as much of his as she could.
“You thinkI’ma lot, Elias Thorne?” Her fingers spread wide, encompassing more of his broad back. He was huge, football-player massive. Rough and weathered and hard as stone.
But hell if she didn’t want to hold him tighter, hide him like he was precious, keep him from all the bad stuff the world had thrown his way.
She’d have stayed like that forever if he hadn’t finally released a shaky breath and disengaged himself from her embrace. Still close, but not touching.
“Thanks.” The word was more growl than language. “Needed that.”
“Are you with me, then?” She finally caught his eye. “Promise I won’t wake up in the morning to find you gone?”
“I wouldn’t do that to you. Wouldn’t just disappear.”
“But you’d rather be alone.”
“Rather be alone? No, Leo. I’d rather save your ass, though.”
“How about we save your fine ass, too, while we’re at it?” she whispered, her fingers lifting to touch him again, then falling without having dared. Funny, given what a daredevil she usually was.
“Fine?” His eyebrows flew so high, they almost melded with his hair.
Pressing her lips together on a smile, she shook her head. And then, because she’d do something stupid if they didn’t leave soon, she took a step back, breathed in something other than him, took another, and another, until finally she tore herself away.
***
The wet, muddy terrain kept them from speaking again, which was good. Better than talking about whatever the hell was happening between them.
Though it didn’t stop Elias from thinking about it.
Obsessing, Karen had called it, back when they’d been together. Before she’d turned her back on him, joined in the world’s accusations.
Traitor. Murderer. Child killer.
He’d become a pariah once they’d gotten him in their sights. Worse than that—they’d painted him as something evil, turned his life inside out, stripped away his family’s privacy, made everything he’d ever accomplished out to be part of some sinister plot.
They’d destroyed his relationships, cut his bonds, worn away any trust he’d managed to forge.
Once they’d done that, really isolated him, without anywhere to turn but home, they’d killed his parents.
And blamed it on him.
His jaw hardened, teeth clamped together, working to maintain his inner calm.
You’re obsessing again, E, Karen used to sing.It’s just a case. Can’t you leave work at work and hang out with me?
I am hanging out.
