Giving In(22)
She dropped her gaze because he was right. She didn’t have the confidence she should. But damn it, she wanted it. Wanted it so badly she could taste it. She wanted to take on the world and grab on with both hands. Wanted to be someone unafraid to walk into a room like she owned it. But she’d learned from a very young age to be as unassuming as possible and to draw as little attention to herself as possible. It was a matter of survival. Of self-preservation.
As if reading her thoughts, he reached across the table and twined their fingers together. What did it say about her that it no longer startled her when he touched her? That she’d come to like it. Crave it even.
“You’ll get there, baby. It won’t happen overnight, but you’ll get there. I see inside you to the real you. I know she’s there just waiting to break free. And she will. One day.”
“How is it you know so much about me?” she whispered. “Things I don’t even know myself? You haven’t worked with Dash that long.”
He smiled. “I watch people. I study them. It’s helpful in my line of work and, well, in life, for that matter. I’m good at reading people. Knowing when they’re sincere and when they’re just bullshitting me. And my instincts tell me that you’re a fierce, brave woman who’s faced a hell of a lot of adversity in her life but who’s come out stronger for it.”
She laughed, the sound brittle and not at all joyful. “Stronger? I disagree there. I’m scared of my own shadow. Or did you forget that I handcuffed you to the bed last night?”
His expression grew tender. She’d grown to love the way his eyes warmed when he looked at her just so.
“And yet you took them off,” he pointed out. “You trusted me enough to take them off when you were at your most vulnerable. I’d say that was very brave of you.”
She flushed because he had a way of turning around every argument she posed. Made what she deemed as weaknesses, strengths. If only she had as much confidence in herself as he apparently did.
“I’d like to take you to dinner tomorrow night,” he said casually. “And not a business dinner. A date. You, me, no office talk. Just us and we see where this takes us.”
“There is no us,” she blurted, stunned by his invitation.
He arched an eyebrow. “I spent last night in your bed, baby. I’d say that makes us something.”
“You didn’t give me a choice!” she sputtered. “That’s hardly the basis of a date!”
He smiled. “So forget last night then if it bothers you so much. But you know and I know that I’ll be back there. It’s only a matter of time.”
Her throat threatened to close off. She could barely breathe around the knot growing larger by the second. This man thoroughly intimidated her. She found it telling that he didn’t scare her. Not physically. She knew in her bones that he’d never lift a finger to her. It seemed to enrage him, the thought of anyone or anything hurting her. But there were other kinds of hurts. Some more painful than even the physical kind.
“I won’t play games with you,” she whispered.
His eyes lost the playful, flirty glimmer and his expression grew suddenly fierce and very serious.
“This is no goddamn game, Kylie. Not to me. Never to me. You are not a game. You aren’t a challenge, a notch on my bedpost. I don’t fuck around. I haven’t fucked my way through countless women and I’m not some bored bastard who sees getting with you as a victory.”
She was speechless. Utterly speechless. Her hands shook so hard that she had to put her water glass down because liquid sloshed over the rim, spilling onto the table.
“What do you want from me?” she croaked.
His gaze was direct and unflinching. Grim and unrelenting.
“You. Just you, Kylie. And everything you have to give.”
She was light-headed from holding her breath for so long and she forced herself to breathe as spots appeared in her vision. She had to hold it together and not melt down right in the middle of the restaurant.
“I don’t have anything to give you,” she said softly.
For some reason the starkness of her statement made her want to cry. Tears burned her eyelids but she refused to let them fall. She had nothing to offer this man. Any man. But certainly not someone like Jensen who could have any woman he wanted. Who would never have to look far for female companionship. There was probably a line outside his bedroom door.
“You’re wrong,” he said just as softly.
He didn’t expound. Just kept staring at her with that intense gaze, his eyes never leaving her face, taking in every thought, every reaction. She was certain he could see the tears glittering in her eyes, burning, begging to fall free. She swallowed hard, her head aching with the effort not to allow him to see how affected she was by . . . him.