If she kept rocking like this, she’d come apart on him, and he wanted it, wanted her to let go, to mark him with her pleasure, proof that he could give something good to someone who deserved it. He pressed harder, grinding his thigh up and in, and her whole body jerked, the sound she made sharp and desperate. She clutched at his shoulders, nails digging deep through the flannel. Her head fell back, mouth gone slack, and the sight of her—eyes closed, lower lip wet, skin electric beneath his hand…
Fuck. He was going to come in his pants. Just from this. From her riding his thigh, fully clothed.
He jerked his knee away, breaking the contact like a snapped cable. Gasped for air, the world spinning as cold air rushed between them.
She shivered, lips parted and wet from the kiss, eyes enormous in the cold Montana dark.
What the fuck was he doing? Taking advantage of her vulnerability, her fear? She’d come to him for protection, for safety, and here he was, pawing at her like some animal.
“I can’t.” His voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. “I can’t do this.”
Confusion and hurt flashed across her face as she sat up. “What? Why?”
He stood up, adjusted his still throbbing cock, and put some more distance between them. “You’re scared. Vulnerable. Not thinking clearly.”
“Excuse me? I know exactly what I’m doing.”
“Maggie…” How did he explain? How could he make her understand that he only wanted the best for her, and he wasn’t it. He wasn’t even in the same fucking zip code as the best. “I— I can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“This.” He gestured between them, his movements jerky, uncoordinated. “Us. I’m not... I can’t be what you need.”
“How do you know what I need?” Her frustration bled through into her voice loud and clear, but he still went to the stairs, needing even more distance.
“You won’t even give us a chance!” she accused when he didn’t respond. “Why?”
She was right. He wouldn’t for so many complicated reasons he couldn’t voice. So he settled on the easiest. “I’m damaged goods, Maggie.”
“So am I.”
“Prison broke something in me that can’t be fixed. I’m not... whole. I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what? Care about someone? Because it’s too late for that. You already care.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“But it is. It really is that simple. You think I don’t know broken?” The chair creaked behind him as she rose from it. “You think I don’t recognize the difference between damaged and destroyed? I rebuild things for a living, Anson. I know when something’s worth saving.”
“Not me.” He turned away before she could reach him. If he let her touch him again, he wouldn’t have the strength to walk away. “I’m not worth the effort.”
“Anson—”
“Getting cold.” He jerked his chin toward her cabin door. “Go inside.”
He took the porch steps two at a time, needing to get away before he crumbled completely. Behind him, he heard her sharp intake of breath and the soft curse that followed.
“My door will be open if you change your mind.”
But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. If he stayed, he’d take what she offered, and she deserved better. She deserved someone whole, someone untainted by the past, someone who could give her more than broken sentences and scarred hands.
The taste of her lingered on his lips, sweet and devastating, and his cock was still uncomfortably hard. With every step, he wanted to turn back, to tell her he didn’t mean it, that he’d try to be what she needed.
But he kept walking.
He reached the forge, lungs burning from the cold air and something that felt too much like panic. Inside, Bramble lifted his head, ears perked in question.
“I fucked up,” he told the dog, shrugging out of his coat. “Big time.”
