I swallow hard, and he feels it beneath his fingers. “They did?—”
“I should’ve made it slower.” He whispers. His thumb presses gently against my pulse point, and I know he can feel how fast my heart is racing. “I should’ve made them suffer more for what they did to you.”
The violence in his voice should scare me.
It doesn’t though, and I can’t explain why.
“They’re dead.” I whisper. “That’s enough.”
His eyes meet mine, and the intensity in them steals my breath. They’re a deep amber green, and up this close I can see the flecks of gold in his irises.
“No.” He says softly, his voice rough. “It’s not.”
I’m painfully aware of how close he is. How I can feel the heat emanating off his body in waves. And how he smells exactly like the jacket I still haven’t thrown away. Woody, warm, and incredibly masculine.
I study his face, and my eyes catch on the fresh scar above his eyebrow. It’s a stark reminder that we both didn’t leave that night unscathed.
“You should step back.” I manage, but my voice comes out breathy.Weak.
“Should I?” He asks, his thumb still on my neck, still feeling every frantic beat.
“Yes.” I say, but even I can hear that there’s no conviction in my voice.
Echo doesn’t move. He just keeps looking at me like he’s trying to memorize every detail.
“Your pulse is racing, Bambi.”
“That’s because you’re scaring me.”
“Liar.”
My breath catches because he’s right.
I’m not scared.
I’m something else entirely. And given the fact that I know what he’s capable of, that’s really fucking disturbing.
A throat clears behind us, and we both turn to see a woman in her 70s standing at the other side of the counter. She’s clutching a book to her chest and looking deeply uncomfortable as a blush spreads across her cheeks.
Echo steps back smoothly, as if he wasn’t just invadingevery inch of my personal space, and steps towards one of the bookshelves.
I know how intense that felt to me. I can only imagine what it looked like to her.
I ring her up quickly and am eternally grateful for her silence as she hands me her card and I slip her receipt into her bag.
She turns around, and Echo stupidly, ridiculously gives her a wink as he waves her goodbye. The poor woman literally gasps and stumbles over herself as she heads for the door.
I cut my eyes at Echo and follow her out, just to make sure she makes it to her car okay. She does, and when she slips into the driver’s seat and I see the huge smile on her face, I can’t help but find what Echo did a little endearing.
I step back into the store, looking for the menace, and surprisingly, I find him browsing in one of the aisles.
“What are you doing?” I ask, studying him warily.
“Shopping.” He says, his voice returning to that casual tone. But when he glances at me, there’s something heated in his eyes that makes my stomach flutter.
This is insane.
He moves to the paranormal romance section, and I feel myself following him. I watch him, completely off-balance, with my hand pressed to the side of my face that still feels the phantom of his touch.
