She closed her eyes against the feeling of sinking that took hold each time he touched her.
“No. I…” Memories battered the edges of her mind, trampling through her disordered understanding, rioting to be heard if she could only figure out how. “It’s not real. I know it’s not real, but…”
“What’s not real?” he asked.
Breaking her vow not to scare Cole away by doing what she’d longed to since first setting eyes on him, she kissed him. Those inviting lips, chiseled cheekbones, and the lids of his bad-boy eyes. She tasted him…and…she remembered.
A savory mixture of needing and wanting and having burst to life within her. It wasn’t a beginning, the molten desire that consumed her. It held the full-on rage of completion. It was a craving for something she’d denied herself for too long, something that could own her forever, in ways that would refuse to let her go.
Her hands brushed up Cole’s arms. She clung to his shoulders just as she’d promised herself she wouldn’t. Her heart beat wildly against her ribs, her body betraying her, until all of her was throbbing as if they’d just made love.
“Shaw?” His grip on her tightened in a predatory way. “No.”
Then he was pushing her back.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Humiliated, she made herself stay perfectly still as he slid her feet to the ground.
He would go away now for sure. He’d go away and always think of her as the crazy woman who’d thrown herself at him with absolutely no provocation. She’d accosted him. And where a minute ago she’d bristled at the effortless superiority he’d exuded when he’d waltzed in her front door and once more began asking questions, she couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving now.
She swayed, the effect of her near-sleepless night and the onslaught of anxiety she’d been enduring since her nightmare suddenly overwhelming her.
“Damn it.” The gruff edge to his voice could have been understanding. More likely, it was pity. “Let’s find you somewhere to sit down.”
She gasped when he picked her up, cradling her close, her knees draped over his arm. She tensed to resist, as she had in the kitchen. But her butt nestled so perfectly against the taut muscles rippling beneath the T-shirt he still wore without a jacket, despite the winter temps outside. She found it impossible to push herself away. He walked the rest of the way to the office, as if he’d been there countless times before. He nudged the half-open door wide with the toe of one boot and carted her toward the enormous leather chair behind the mahogany desk.
She expected him to put her down and to back away nervously. Instead, he laid his bag aside and sat. He curled her into his lap as if he wasn’t any more ready to let go than she was. Her head nestled beneath his chin as though it had been crafted to fit precisely there.
“Are you okay, darlin’?” he asked, and it was him saying darlin’, in this room, while she was safe in his embrace, that shredded the rest of her control.
She melted against him, into him, useless tears leaking from the corners of her eyes no matter how hard she tried to blink them away. She had never felt weaker, more defeated, and she had no idea why.
Why now? After weeks of successfully battling the all-consuming emptiness inside her, why did Cole have to be there to witness the last of her defenses come crashing down?
It made no sense, except that he was holding her again, stroking her back and her hair with gentle hands. He was murmuring soft, understanding things, and he knew how to say each word to touch her deep inside. His hold and the contours of his long, lean body were a perfect fit for every part of her. She couldn’t get close enough.
And yet, bizarrely, it made her hurt, feeling his boundaries evaporate along with hers. It made her miss something that didn’t exist outside the chaos in her mind. Except he seemed to be feeling the same things, too. His hold on her was tightening, even as his fingers brushed like a whisper at the moisture on her face.
“Don’t cry,” he said. “It’s going to be okay, Shaw. I won’t let him hurt you anymore.”
It was a simple promise. But his words were moving in her mind, through her memories, unsettling and refocusing things, sending her spiraling into the darkness that had eclipsed her past…
…She was eighteen again, waiting in the office and terrified. She was a teenager with no control, nowhere to run, and no way to avoid the menacing presence in her life. But she wasn’t going to let him see her fear. She wasn’t going to cry one more time.
She was a Cassidy. She could be as powerful and strong as she needed to be. And she’d never needed that legendary Cassidy grit more than this moment.