Ten days there. One day back here. The contrast felt sharper than it should have. Strange how quickly I’d adjusted to trees and water and open sky instead of glass towers and concrete.
It was hotter here, too. Thick, city heat clung to skin. Maybe it was the density, all of us packed together, generating warmth. Or maybe it was my manic dancing.
I’d stripped down to a tank top and sleep shorts, refusing to turn on the air conditioning before June. Stubbornness had always been one of my more consistent traits. Sweat slid down my spine, and I ignored it.
I was halfway across the living room, still moving to a song only I could hear, when a sharp knock cracked through the noise and froze me in place.
The building’s front lock had been broken since I moved in, but I wasn’t expecting anyone for hours. I checked my tank top wasn’t too revealing and opened the door, prepared to be diplomatic.
My stomach dropped.
Eric stood with his arm braced against the wall, paler than usual, his forehead dotted with sweat. His hard stare couldn’t hide exhaustion so deep I worried he might collapse.
“Eric, what are you doing here?” I gasped. “Come in, you need to sit down.”
His eyes flashed with something close to anger. He stalked past me into my apartment without a word. I closed the door and turned to find him right there. In my space.
His stormy expression made me feel like I’d done something terrible. My actions probably warranted his wrath, but it still felt intense.
“Let me get you water, then you can tell me why you look ready to murder me.”
“No.” His glare was unwavering.
“Okay, well, at least?—”
“No, Jamie. Don’t move from this spot. I came here to tell you something, and you’re going to stand here and fucking listen.”
The command in his voice stopped me more effectively than his body blocking the door ever could. I’d seen Eric angry, protective, and controlled. I’d watched him carry fear and remain steady.
This was different.
Not out of control. Not explosive. This was focus—hard and unyielding.
He’d never been cruel, never careless with me, so there shouldn’t have been anything to fear. And yet the force of him, the way he occupied the space, pressed the air thinner in my lungs. Anxiety flickered under my skin.
So did something else.
New heat sparked to life within me as desire pulled my body tight.
“You can’t run away from me, Jamie. I won’t let you. You can’t just disappear without a word and think I won’t chase you down.” He was breathing hard, chest rising and falling sharply. “You left me unconscious on an operating table for fuck’s sake.”
The accusation landed heavy, but he didn’t shout it. He didn’t need to. The restraint in his voice made it worse. “My mother was in tears when she told me you’d come back here, and I was too drug-hazed to understand why.”
Any weakness from the procedure was buried under something stronger. He looked steady on his feet, jaw tight, shoulders squared like he’d forced his body to cooperate through sheer will.
“Worst of all, they wouldn’t let me out of the hospital. Wouldn’t let me drive to chase you down.” His eyes burned into mine. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“Eric.” My voice was soft, apologetic.
“I’m not done.” His savage growl had my mouth snapping shut. “I mean that, Jamie. I’m not done with you. And I’m not letting you be done with me either. I know you’re scared. You’ve dealt with more than most, and you probably think this thing between us was temporary. Or fake. Or just a distraction.”
His brow pulled tight as he dragged a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding through the movement. The sight of it, the tension in his forearm, the way his chest rose and fell, made my pulse kick hard.
“But it’s not” he continued, voice thick but steady. “It’s none of those things. Hell, I don’t think it ever was.”
For a second, the edge slipped. He looked at me fully, not guarded, not composed. “Jamie, beautiful girl, I’m in fucking love with you. I don’t want to lose you. I refuse to let you go.”
God, this man. He had no idea what he did to me.
