She shut down and spoke coolly. “Thank you yet again for trying to save me, but I’m okay. No need for your armor tonight. Sorry for the drama.”
His gaze narrowed. His eyes shot streams of sapphire fire. “Don’t play games with me, Gen. What happened tonight on your date? Why did I come home to find you crying your heart out?”
If she stayed close to him, she’d only humiliate herself. Beg him to want her, and then there’d be no going back. She swiped at her eyes and got up from the bed, needing the distance. “Just let it go. I’m a girl, dammit. Sometimes I cry, and I like to do it in private without an audience.” She turned from him so he couldn’t see her face. “I don’t want you here tonight.”
“Tough shit.”
She spun back around and gasped. The rage was good and clean and sweet, pushing away her silly tears and the pity party she despised. “You have no right to interfere,” she snarled. “I gave you space when you wanted to go fuck your date! I didn’t ask you a million questions or invade your privacy.”
“You didn’t find me crying either. I know you, Gen. I’ve watched you cry over hurt animals, abused children, and those awful chick flicks I hate. This was different. This was a cry from your soul, and I’m gonna find the motherfucker who did it and kill him.”
Her eyes widened at his casual statement. Possession and determination carved out the lines of his face. He still sat on the edge of the mattress, staring at her, refusing to cower or give in to her demands. What a good . . . friend.
She took a step forward and practically spat in disgust. “I told you, nothing happened. It wasn’t David or Charles or anyone, and I’m not talking about this anymore. Get out.”
“No.”
“Get out!”
“No. Did he try to make a move on you? Did you freak? I knew this wasn’t a good idea. You’re not ready for sex without commitment, and if he couldn’t handle it I’ll teach him a lesson for the next time.”
She snapped. Somewhere the thread had gotten plucked so thin there was nothing left holding her to sanity. A sheen of pure red hazed her vision as she teetered on heels too tall and cool for her and gave him the humiliating truth.
“I was the one who wanted him!” she screamed. “You want to hear the whole story? He was perfect. Charming. Sexy. I felt more powerful and energized than I have in a while, so I invited him to my house to sleep with me. And you know what he said? Wanna guess?”
Wolfe remained silent, his gaze trapping her and refusing to let go.
“He said no thanks! He said he married the first time and ended up divorced because he didn’t feel a wild passion for his wife. Said she was nice, and a good conversationalist, and funny. Everything I was. But not sexy. Not enough to tempt a man to lose his mind and heart to her. So there’s that. I failed again. I’m good as a companion, and a colleague, and a friend, and that will have to be good enough.” She let out a wild laugh and pushed her curls back, not caring anymore that she was a mess. “So David was right, and nothing’s going to change it. Not a stupid tattoo, or a matchmaking service, or a wax.”
He made a move to get up, but she lost it, knowing once she spotted the pity in his eyes she might never be the same. “Don’t you dare feel sorry for me! I need you to leave. I’m begging you to go out the door and give me time. Tomorrow I’ll put myself back together and everything will be fine.” Her voice broke but she pushed on. “I just need some time alone. To process. Please, Wolfe, please just go.”
She had nothing left, so she turned and walked toward the window. He didn’t move from the edge of the bed. Didn’t breathe. She pressed her forehead to the cool pane of glass and prayed to finish this awful night in isolation. Tomorrow she’d get her shit together and it would be okay. But tonight all bets were off, and she felt dangerously out of control . . . on the pinnacle of something so fierce she didn’t know how to handle it.
The mattress creaked. Shoes hit the floor. She held her breath and waited for the blessed silence, but instead of heading out, he stopped right behind her. His body heat roped her in and pulled tight, like a helpless calf at the rodeo. She held the windowsill in a deathlike grip, sensing him closing the distance inch by precious inch, until his chest pressed against her back.
“Look at me.”
The rough growl was full of danger, command, heat. She was helpless to disobey, leaving the safety of the window to turn and face him full-on. He reached out and tipped her chin up.
Blistering, raw lust shot from his eyes. As if they were glowing from under the sea in the Caribbean, she tumbled into the depths of a gaze that promised everything with a Warning: Danger label attached. His grip tightened, refusing to allow her to retreat, and he crowded her space by taking another step between her thighs. The sill dug into her lower back. His scent drowned out everything but the need to touch him, feast, taste—the delicious mix of lemon and soap and cotton surrounding her.
“I need you to listen closely, because I’m only going to say it once. Understood?”
Her lips parted. This was no friend. This was a deadly man with an agenda. Transfixed, she nodded, unable to form words, mere prey beneath the command of a dangerous predator.
“I’m done with excuses and conversation and politeness. I’m over this bullshit of you questioning the power you have to grip me in a vise so tight I can’t even breathe without wanting you with my last breath. I’m tired of walking around with a dick that won’t go down when I catch your scent, or look at your sweet curves, or imagine being buried deep within you. Are you still listening, Gen?”