He doesn't let go.
Instead, his grip tightens. He pulls me closer. So close I have to brace my free hand on his shoulder to keep from falling into his lap.
"You're lying," he says.
"I'm not."
"You are." His voice drops. Rough. Raw. "Because if that's all it was—if I'm just a convenient cock you used to get off—then why are you shaking?"
"I'm cold," I lie.
"Bullshit."
His free hand comes up. Cups my jaw. Tilts my face toward his.
"You want to know what I think?" he asks.
I don't answer.
"I think you're scared." His thumb traces my bottom lip. The same lip that was wrapped around his cock minutes ago. "Ithink you felt something when you were on your knees for me. Something that terrified you. So now you're trying to run."
"I'm not running. I'm going to sleep."
"Same thing."
"It's not?—"
"You're running," he cuts me off. "Just like I've been running. From you. From this. From whatever the fuck is happening between us."
My heart pounds.
"Nothing is happening between us," I say. "You made that clear. This marriage is a transaction. The kiss was a mistake. Remember?"
"I was wrong," he says.
I go still.
"What?"
"I was wrong." The words seem to cost him something. His jaw clenches. His grip on my wrist tightens, then loosens. "About the kiss. About you. About all of it."
I don't know what to say.
"I don't know how to do this," he says. His voice is rough. Broken. "I don't know how to let someone in. I don't know how to want something without destroying it. I don't know how to be the man you deserve.
"But if that's what you want," Bruno continues, his voice dropping to something barely above a whisper, "then go to bed. Sleep. Forget this happened."
His thumb traces my jaw one more time.
"I won't stop you."
His hand falls away from my face.
His grip on my wrist loosens.
I could pull free now. Could step back. Could climb into that massive bed and pretend the last hour never happened.
That's what he's offering me.
