Giving In

TEN

KYLIE wiped her hands down her jeans, removing the dampness from her palms. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, critically surveying her appearance. This was stupid. Utterly ridiculous for her to be so worked up over a date.

Women dated. People dated. And now, apparently, she dated. It was an absolutely ordinary occurrence in the world. Except that her world and the rest of the world were two entirely different things. In her world, she didn’t date. Didn’t pursue relationships or encourage men’s attention.

Only now it would seem she did indeed date and she was in fact trying to gain the attention of Jensen.

She couldn’t figure out if it annoyed her or pleased her, this tilting of her universe. On one hand she was actually looking forward to the evening with Jensen. Craved his company and how safe and comforted she felt around him. Was she simply using him because he was a security blanket of sorts? And would she chicken out the minute things became more intimate?

Because she sincerely doubted Jensen was just signing up to be a source of comfort. He was a man. An attractive, mouthwateringly gorgeous man. Of course he’d expect sex at some point. He’d pretty much said as much. The question was how patient he’d be.

She wasn’t opposed, in theory, to the idea of having sex with him. The idea appealed. But what appealed more to her was her being capable of having a physical relationship with him. Of being able to overcome the panic that such an idea instilled within her.

So, in fact, it did mean that she was using him. For all the wrong reasons.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to stop being so analytical. Did it matter why she wanted to be around him? Did it matter the reasons why if they ended up having sex? To most men reasons would be very far down their list. They wanted sex. Most red-blooded men did. It was the women who got all touchy-feely and analytical over the reasons behind sex.

Jensen wanted her. He’d made that clear enough. But what exactly did he want? How much? Would he be satisfied with physical release? Hot sex? Or did he want more? Something she couldn’t give him?

Her head was spinning and she was making herself crazy over a simple date. She’d changed clothes four times, each time deeming herself too obvious. Too blatant, like she was seeking his approval. But what normal woman wouldn’t want to look good for her date? Especially a man like Jensen who oozed sensuality just by breathing.

She’d finally opted for jeans and a comfortable top. Casual. Not too desperate. She wanted to appear as though she were comfortable with him. And that wouldn’t be a stretch because she did feel at ease with him even if she hadn’t in the beginning. All of that had changed during the night he’d spent with her.

Trust, something she didn’t readily give to anyone, had been formed the night he’d held her through her nightmares and offered her comfort. A part of her recognized that this man wouldn’t hurt her. Her mind protested, used to self-preservation. Her heart, on the other hand, had quickly offered its trust, leaving her brain to wonder if she’d lost what little of her sanity she had left.

The doorbell rang, spurring her into action. She nervously gave herself one last glance in the mirror, satisfied that she looked . . . normal. Then she went to answer the door.

Jensen filled her doorway the minute she opened the door. He loomed there, larger than life. Tall, muscular. Strong. To her relief, he too had dressed casually. Faded jeans that conformed to his body and made her want to get an eyeful of how his ass filled them out. And a simple T-shirt that stretched over his muscled arms and chest.

If she thought he looked sexy in his business clothing, seeing him in jeans and a T-shirt was mind-blowing. God, was she actually lusting after him? She hadn’t thought herself capable of feeling physical attraction to a man—any man. And yet here she stood, drinking her fill and having decidedly naughty thoughts.

Who knew she had it in her?

Instead of inspiring panic, she was filled with the unfamiliar sensation of . . . optimism. She offered him a genuine smile and then gestured for him to come inside. He was carrying two grocery bags and had a bottle of wine tucked under one arm.

“Let me help you,” she offered.

“Nope,” he said. “I’ll dump it all in the kitchen and get started. I’d love for you to join me and keep me company, though.”

She followed behind and slid onto one of the barstools as he unloaded the items from the grocery bags.

“What’s on the menu?” she asked lightly.

“Aussie chicken,” he said. “Ever heard of it?”

She shook her head.

“Then you’re in for a treat. It’s basically baked chicken breasts in a homemade honey mustard sauce with bacon, mushrooms and cheese. Can’t go wrong with that combination.”

She took in his warm smile, soaked it up like an addict in need of a fix. He just had a settling effect on her. She worried she’d become too dependent, that she’d need him too much. She’d never considered herself a clingy person. Just the opposite. She avoided relationships, any bonds with people other than her immediate circle of friends. But she could well see how dependent she could become on Jensen and that scared her. She didn’t want anyone but herself to have any control over her happiness.

But was she truly happy?

Even she knew the answer to that one. She wasn’t unhappy but neither was she happy. She just . . . existed. Went through the motions. Lived day-to-day on autopilot. Wasn’t it time for her to wake up and live? Really live?

“It sounds delicious,” she said, huskiness lacing her voice.

He smiled again and she caught her breath. Good God. She was sitting here lusting over him. Her! She breathed in, savoring the newness of such overwhelming emotions. Feelings she’d kept under tight rein her entire life. What was happening to her? Had she merely been waiting for him? Was he the one who’d break through her barriers and make her get over her fears?

“How did your dinner with Chessy go?” he asked as he set to work preparing the dish.

He poured two glasses of wine and slid one across the counter to her. She picked it up and brought it to her lips, inhaling the aroma. She rarely drank and usually only with friends. Alcohol made her uneasy because she was intimately acquainted with the dark side of it. Being around people drinking heavily was something she always avoided.

“It went well,” she said, after sipping the drink. “She’s lonely. Tate’s so busy with his job.”

Jensen glanced up, his expression seeking. “She unhappy?”

Kylie grimaced. She shouldn’t have said anything. She felt like the worst sort of friend betraying Chessy’s confidence. But there was something about Jensen that caught her off guard and made her relax. Her lips loosened around him and she found herself telling him things she’d never share with anyone else.

“I’m not going to betray your confidence, Kylie,” Jensen said in a low voice. “We’re just having a conversation. Nothing more. You don’t have to worry about me involving myself in someone else’s relationship. Besides, Tate and I are mere acquaintances, brought together by circumstance more than friendship. I like him and Chessy both. I’d hate to know she was unhappy.”

“It’s me who’s betraying a confidence,” Kylie muttered. “For some reason I find myself blurting stuff out to you.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” he observed, staring thoughtfully at her. If there had been any hint of triumph in his eyes, it would have annoyed her, but there was just intent consideration.

“I’d like you to feel as though you can talk to me about anything,” he continued.

Kylie sighed. “Tate’s just super busy and Chessy is lonely. I understand that feeling but unlike me, she isn’t used to it. She’s outgoing and bubbly. She needs to be surrounded by people and she needs more of Tate’s time than she’s currently getting.”

“Does he know how she feels?” Jensen asked. “Just from observing them the few times I’ve been around them, I’d say the man worships the ground she walks on. Most men, upon learning their woman was the least bit unhappy, would move heaven and earth to correct the problem. But if he doesn’t know . . .”

“He doesn’t,” Kylie supplied. “Or at least she hasn’t confronted him. It’s a difficult position she’s in because she feels that if she were to tell Tate she’s unhappy, he would feel as though he failed her. There was a time we talked about her fear that he was cheating. But she wouldn’t confront him because she knew if she ever expressed that kind of doubt in him that it would be a rift that wouldn’t be easily mended. She didn’t want to give him any hint that she didn’t have faith in him. I just want her to be happy. I hate seeing her so sad. It makes me want to smack Tate upside the head and ask him if he even sees what he’s doing to his wife.”

Jensen grimaced. “That doesn’t sound like a fun place for her to be. Worried but unable to voice her fears. I prefer open communication myself. I’d hate for my woman to ever fear speaking to me about anything.”

There was an undertone to his statement that was aimed at her. She knew it. He wasn’t talking about Chessy and Tate. He was talking about him and her. He was telling her not to fear ever talking to him about anything.

“For some reason I don’t seem to suffer that affliction around you,” she said in bewilderment. “In fact I’d say it’s just the opposite. I can’t seem to quit just blurting stuff out. I’m not usually such a blabbermouth.”

“Then I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, his expression sincere. “I like the idea that you’re comfortable enough around me to speak your mind. I hope that it’s the beginnings of trust between us.”

“I do trust you,” she whispered. “I have no idea why. God knows I don’t trust anyone. But for some reason I feel safe with you and that kind of freaks me out.”

He stopped what he was doing and walked around the counter to where she sat. He spun the stool until she faced him and he framed her face in his hands. His eyes glittered with intensity as he stared down at her. She thought he was going to kiss her and he did, just not where she expected.

He pressed his lips tenderly to her forehead and she closed her eyes in pleasure over the simple gesture.

“You are safe with me, Kylie,” he said as he drew back, his hands still framing her face.

He stroked his thumb over her lips, lips she thought he would kiss.

“If you believe nothing else, you can believe that. You are absolutely safe with me and I don’t just mean physically. You are safe in all ways because I will absolutely protect you from anything that could hurt you.”

“Why me?” she blurted. “I don’t get it. I’m not fishing for compliments, Jensen. It’s a sincere question. You can’t have to look far for female companionship. You could likely have any woman you wanted. So why are you interested in me? Do you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into?”

His smile was so tender that it made her heart leap and speed up.

“I know exactly what I’m getting myself into,” he murmured. “As for why you? I can’t answer that. Some things just are. And for me that’s you. I see beyond the image you present to the world to the woman underneath and that’s who I want.”

“We’re too different,” she said in a fretful tone. “And you’re a control freak and I’m a control freak. It’s not like I have some OCD thing, but I like things a certain way. I need them a certain way. Two control freaks in a relationship? Surely that’s a recipe for disaster.”

He continued to smile at her, his eyes warm. He didn’t seem at all put off by her fretting.

“I understand you far more than you realize,” he said softly. “I’m no threat to you, Kylie. For the right woman, I have no issue with relinquishing control. What I’m after has nothing to do with physical submission.”

His words puzzled her. He was speaking as though he were dominant. Like Dash and Tate. And he probably was. Which made his interest in her all the more mystifying.

“Are you dominant?” she whispered. “You never really answered me before when I asked if you were like Tate and Dash. I know you said you were you and not them. But that wasn’t what I meant. Do you like submissive women? Do you like to dominate them?”

“I prefer submissive women, yes,” he said calmly. “Until you I would have said that it was the only kind of relationship I would entertain.”

Her heart sped up, thundering in her chest. “You said what you were after had nothing to do with physical submission. What does that mean?”

He ran his fingers through her hair, his hands returning to her face as he caressed and stroked over her skin.

“What it means is that I would never act out any of the more physical aspects of dominance and submission with you,” he said gently. “Have I ever? Yes. I’ve been involved in dominant/submissive relationships with other women where I employed the physical components that sometimes accompany such a lifestyle. But I would never ever demand of you what you can’t give. So when I say that what I’m after has nothing to do with physical submission, in effect what I want is your emotional surrender.”

“I don’t know what that means,” she said in a low voice. “But it sounds scary. Perhaps even scarier than physical surrender.”

He nodded solemnly. “It’s certainly more powerful. A woman can give of her body and never share her heart or her soul. A very hollow victory indeed. But a woman who surrenders emotionally to the man who has her care in his hands is a very precious thing. And that’s what I want from you, Kylie. Your emotional surrender. Your trust. Your heart. Your soul.”

“Wow,” she whispered. “You don’t ask for much.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling from his chest. Then he kissed her forehead again. “You’ll get there, baby. Just breathe. Don’t overanalyze it. Just breathe and go with it and know I’ve got you.”

She nearly toppled off the stool when he released her to walk back around and resume dinner preparations. Her pulse was racing and she was light-headed. A heady, euphoric feeling took hold, replacing her earlier panic and worry.

She took a steadying sip of the wine and tried not to let how rattled she was show.

Several minutes later, Jensen opened her oven and slipped in the casserole dish. He set the timer and then turned back to her.

“Let’s have another glass of wine in the living room while we wait for dinner to finish cooking.”

She slid from the stool, hoping she didn’t face-plant. She felt giddy and a little silly around him, like a teenager crushing on the quarterback. But then what did she know about such feelings? She’d never experienced them before because she’d never allowed herself to.

He waited for her at the end of the bar and held out his hand for her to take. She slid her fingers through his, enjoying the firm imprint of his hand against hers. They walked into the living room and then simply stood there, hands still entwined.

After a moment, he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist then lowered their clasped hands between them once more.

“Dinner will be ready in half an hour. Would you like to start the movie now or wait and watch it from start to finish after we eat?”

“We can wait,” she said breathlessly. “No reason we can’t sit and wait, right?”

“None at all,” he said in smooth tones.

He led her to the couch and sat, tugging her down beside him.

She was out of her element and she well knew it. She had no idea how to hold cutesy, flirty conversations. What was she supposed to say? Or do? Did they just sit here and stare at each other?

She glanced sideways at Jensen, looking for some clue, but he seemed perfectly content to sit next to her in silence. Several long, painful minutes ensued, the awkwardness growing more pronounced with each passing second.

“Maybe we should wait in the kitchen,” she hedged, uncomfortable with the quiet that had descended.

He glanced at her, his gaze indecipherable. It wasn’t warm like she’d become accustomed to. Just seeking. Had she committed some dating faux pas she was unaware of? God, she hated this. Surely there were rules or something.

“Look, uhm, you should know I really suck at this,” she said lamely.

Amusement glimmered in his eyes. “Breathe, Kylie. Like I told you before. It’s all right. We can go back into the kitchen if that makes you more comfortable. Why don’t you set the table and I’ll check on the progress of the chicken.”

Relieved to have something to break the awkwardness, she eagerly rose and headed back to the kitchen. Jensen’s hand on her shoulder stopped her just as she reached the bar.

“Relax, okay?”

His voice was soothing and as gentle as his touch. Her shoulder sagged beneath his hand and she turned.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I told you I suck at this. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t date. I don’t know how this is supposed to work.”

He put his other hand to her shoulder and pulled her carefully into his embrace. He tucked her head beneath his chin and simply hugged her. It baffled her that such a mundane thing as a hug from this man instantly calmed her.

“It’s supposed to work however we make it work,” he said matter-of-factly. “I have no expectations for you to fulfill, Kylie. I merely want to spend time with you. Share a meal and enjoy your company. That’s all. Nothing more.”

She groaned. “I’m an idiot. You can say it.”

His body shook with laughter and then he patted her on the behind. “Go set the table and let me finish my pièce de résistance.”

She busied herself putting out plates and silverware and then got fresh wineglasses and placed the opened bottle on the table just as Jensen took the casserole dish from the oven.

It smelled heavenly and there was oodles of gooey, melty cheese bubbling over the bacon and the chicken. Her stomach rumbled in appreciation as he set it down on the table.

“It looks fabulous,” she said. “Is there anything you can’t do? You’re like Superman or something. I bet you don’t suck at anything.”

He pretended to give the matter serious consideration before grinning at her. “I guess it’ll be up to you to find all my faults. And believe me, the list is long, as I’m sure you’ve already surmised during our somewhat short acquaintance.”

She marveled at just how different he seemed around her. Somehow lighter and not as . . . broody. She’d had the thought before but it was reinforced all the more now. He no doubt was good for her, but maybe she was also good for him? It made her feel better to think so.

“I don’t suppose we did get off on the right foot,” she admitted ruefully. “I’m willing to admit that I was mistaken about you. You aren’t quite the ogre I thought you to be.”

He arched one eyebrow as he dished out portions onto the plates. “Not quite? So there’s still room for some ogreness in your dissection of me?”

She grinned at the mock seriousness of his question. “That remains to be seen, but I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“So very generous, this woman I’m cooking for.”

Her smile broadened, all the early awkwardness dissipating. It was starting to feel like a real date. Like two people flirting and verging on the cusp of something new. Good God, an actual relationship even.

Okay, she had to stop that line of thought or a panic attack would hit her full force. She focused instead on the delicious-smelling plate in front of her and dug in with her knife and fork.

The first bite hit all her taste buds in just the right spots. It was perfectly seasoned, tender, the homemade honey mustard sauce utter perfection, and bacon and cheese? It was a well-known fact that it was pretty damn hard to ruin anything by putting bacon and cheese on it.

“This is wonderful,” she breathed as she swallowed her second bite. “A man who looks like you and who can cook. I can’t imagine why you’re still single.”

There was a brief flicker in his eyes, gone almost before she registered it was there. But there had been something. A shadow. A remembrance. A sore spot, evidently, judging by that betraying flash. But it was quickly gone, replaced by that warm smile that she loved so much.

“Perhaps I’m merely waiting on the right woman to settle down,” he said sagely. “One can never be too finicky when choosing the person they want to spend their life with.”

“Boy, did you say a mouthful,” she muttered. “I couldn’t agree more. Or in my case, it would be more applicable to say that there is no desire to choose that person.”

He studied her a moment, pausing in eating his meal. It was that intent, steady stare that told her he was reaching into the heart of her, like he could read her mind and pull out every secret. His scrutiny made her feel vulnerable and she didn’t like that at all. Especially when she’d admitted how very safe she felt around him.

“So you never intend to find the right guy? Settle down, have a family, fall in love. Not necessarily in that order mind you. Usually love comes first and then the rest, but these are modern times after all. I’d say there no longer is a rhyme or reason to relationships.”

“God, we sound like an episode of Dr. Phil,” she said with a grimace.

He laughed. “And yet you avoided the question. Sorry if I’m getting too philosophical, but you fascinate me and I’ve made it my mission to figure you out. What makes you tick, what makes you happy. Or rather what it will take to make you happy.”

She blinked in surprise. “Why would you care? This is technically our first date. Surely you can’t be thinking of all of those things yet.”

He shrugged. “One never knows when the one will walk into his life. It pays to be prepared. Besides, like I’ve said, you fascinate me. You’re a puzzle I haven’t quite put together yet.”

She sighed. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out I have more issues than TIME magazine. You know my history, or at least the major points. No need for all the sordid details. So I’m sure you can understand why I’m not lining them up in the dating department nor am I freaking out because I haven’t found my soul mate at the ripe old age of twenty-five. I figure if it does ever happen, I have plenty of time to figure it all out. For now I just concentrate on living. Surviving. Taking it day-by-day. It’s what has gotten me this far. If it ain’t broke, then don’t fix it.”

“Such cynicism and pragmatism from someone so young is astounding,” he observed. “You lay it out so casually, as if it doesn’t bother you one way or another, and yet there’s something there. Maybe others don’t see it. But I do. You want those things, Kylie. You just haven’t worked up the courage to reach out and take them. Nor have you admitted to yourself that you do have needs just like everyone else.”

“Do you have a degree in psychology or something?” she asked with narrowed eyes. “Because I swear you sound like a damn shrink.”

He chuckled and held up his hands in mock surrender. “Nope. Just observations on life and my experiences with people.”

“With women, you mean,” she muttered.

“That too,” he said, unruffled by her correction.

“Just how many women have you been with?” she blurted. Gah! There she went again. Just spewing stuff out without reason or thought. It made her sound like some jealous shrew. Quickly trying to cover up her gaffe, she amended her statement.

“I mean submissive women. Or have all of your relationships revolved around the dominant/submissive lifestyle?”

“I don’t keep count,” he said dryly. “There have hardly been enough to need a catalog. I’ve already told you I don’t fuck around nor have I fucked my way through countless women. I’m not that much of a bastard. I’ve had casual sex, yes. I’ve had relationships. More than five, less than a dozen.”

She blinked in surprise. “How old are you anyway?”

“Thirty-five. You look surprised. Why?”

She shook her head. “Most single thirty-five-year-old men have been with far more than a dozen women. It just surprised me, that’s all. I wasn’t judging you. Or condemning. I was genuinely curious about your relationships, and if you enjoy having a submissive woman, why then did those relationships end?”

“They weren’t the one,” he said simply.

His response puzzled her. “How do you know when you meet the one?”

He smiled then, his eyes warming, giving her that heady pleasurable glow that was ever present when he looked at her that way.

“I’ll know.”

She let out a snort of aggravation. This was a man who could well drive her crazy. Crazier than she already was. Vague. His words full of hidden meaning. Some innuendo she was supposed to catch on to. And maybe she was able to read between the lines but was too chickenshit to admit that or to venture into the area of understanding.

“So you believe in love and all that accompanies it? Undying loyalty, fidelity and trust?”

“Of course. Don’t you?”

He seemed genuinely confused that she spoke so blithely of such an important issue. And she supposed it was important to other people. Just not to her. Love to her was a four-letter word and not the good kind. She’d seen the many manifestations of love in her lifetime and she wasn’t sold on the concept, even if her two best friends were disgustingly happy and head over heels in love with their husbands. She saw Chessy’s unhappiness and knew that love wasn’t a cure-all and that in fact, love was often a complication. It certainly wasn’t an inconvenience she wanted to suffer.

Love meant giving up the essential part of herself. Her trust. And that wasn’t given lightly to anyone. Loving someone meant making yourself vulnerable. It meant placing your emotional well-being into another’s hands. No thanks. She’d seen the turmoil Joss had suffered as she and Dash had struggled in their relationship. She saw the effects of love in Chessy’s eyes. Saw the hurt and pain brought to you by the letter L. Love.

She finally shook her head when she realized he was waiting for an answer to his question.

“I’m not saying I don’t believe in it, I guess. I mean obviously Joss loves Dash and he loves her. She loved Carson and Carson loved her. And while I know Chessy is currently unhappy, I do know that she loves Tate and that Tate loves her. But love is messy and complicated. It seems much simpler and safer to just avoid that kind of emotional entanglement.”

“You’re a hard-core cynic,” he murmured. “I hadn’t realized just how much of one you were. You’re going to be a tough nut to crack, baby, but I’m up for the task. I’ve never backed down from a challenge and I don’t plan to start now.”

She stared incredulously at him. The things she’d said to him had sent every other man she’d ever attempted to date running for the door like the hounds of hell were after them. And yet Jensen wasn’t remotely put off by her “issues.” If anything they seemed to make him more determined to break through those walls she’d erected. Walls that had been solidly in place her entire adult life and most of her childhood.

She’d learned at a very young age how to protect her mind, her sanity. To shut out the world around her and stay in self-preservation mode. It had served her well, but had made personal relationships impossible. Because who wanted to deal with such a head case, much less make a commitment to one?

She glanced down at her plate, surprised to see it was empty, then she looked over at Jensen’s to find he too was finished. What now? Once again, she felt the awkwardness of not knowing what came next.

The movie. He had a movie. The plan was to eat dinner and watch a movie. Simple enough. She could handle that.

“You ready for the movie?” she asked, proud of the initiative she took. “I’ll just put the plates in the sink and wash them later. Why don’t you go start up the movie and I’ll bring us both a glass of wine, unless you’d prefer something else?”

“Wine is fine. Your company is what I want most. Anything else is just bonus material.”

Damn it. What to even say to that? He was seducing her with mere words and that heart-melting, warm, fuzzy smile he sent her way every so often. He hadn’t even tried to get into her pants and they were already halfway down.

Disgusted with her raging hormones—why had they picked now to rear their ugly head?—she took the plates and did a quick rinse before leaving them in the sink to take care of later.

She took a moment to compose herself and calm her racing pulse down. It was just a movie. For God’s sake, get it together.

She poured two glasses of wine, though she had no intention of drinking hers. She’d already had her limit and the last thing she wanted was a fuzzy head. Jensen did that to her all on his own. No alcohol needed, though the liquid courage aspect might be appealing.

When she entered the living room, Jensen was leaning back on the couch looking very much at home. The remote was in his hand and he had the movie paused at the beginning. She didn’t even know what they were watching. Did it matter? She doubted she’d remember much of it anyway.

He held out his hand to her, not for the wine, but to take her hand once she placed the glasses on the coffee table. She allowed him to slide his fingers through hers and pull her gently to the couch beside him.

“There, that’s better,” he murmured. “Now the evening can begin.”

“What are we watching?” she asked.

“Some zombie apocalypse movie,” he said with a twist of his lips. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I had to be careful with my selection so you didn’t read anything into my choice or my intentions.”

“So should I worry that you’ll bite me and infect me with some virulent strain of some super virus?” she said dryly.

He chuckled. “I like your sense of humor, Kylie. It fits mine well. Though some would likely argue that neither of us has one. But I think we fit just fine.”

Her cheeks warmed because no, no one had ever accused her of having a sense of humor, twisted or not.

He laid his arm over the top of the couch, a silent invitation for her to move closer. She hesitated at first, not wanting to be obvious, but she found herself gravitating to the warmth and strength of his body.

Soon she was cuddled up next to him, his arm hung loosely over her shoulders. His fingers danced idly over her upper arm, eliciting a trail of chill bumps. His touch was like fire, even through her shirt. She tried to focus on the movie but found herself increasingly distracted by her proximity to his body.

At one point she turned to look at him only to find him staring intently at her, his eyes glowing. So very warm. Comforting. Unconsciously she leaned in, not even realizing what she was doing. He met her advance and brushed his lips softly across hers.

It was an electrical shock to her system. She shivered uncontrollably and then he deepened the kiss, his tongue swiping over her lips, licking and then sliding inside to brush over hers.

He tasted of the wine they’d drunk. That and something altogether different. Heady. Masculine. The taste was undefinable. But she liked it. A lot.

She breathed out a soft sigh as his arms wrapped around her, turning her more solidly so the angle was better. His lips never left hers, his mouth devouring hers hungrily.

She was lost in a cascade of sensation, dizzying, intensely pleasurable and also warm and soothing. Her breasts ached, pressed flat against his chest. Her nipples beaded, pushing outward as if begging for his attention. His mouth.

Shocked that she’d have such a thought, she went still, the strong beat of his heart thudding against her chest. His respirations were fast, rushing into her mouth and over her face.

And then he lowered her to the couch, angling his body over hers, pressing hard and heavy down on her. Panic snaked up her spine as dark memories surfaced, clawing their way to the present.

She lost her sense of awareness. Of where she was and who she was with. All she knew was that she was in immediate danger. His strength overwhelmed her. She felt helpless. Weak. Unable to prevent whatever he wanted to do to her.

Blackness gushed through her mind, wiping away all sense of euphoria and safety. Her chest caught on fire as she desperately tried to breathe but found no air. Her throat constricted as she tried to scream. To beg him to stop. To have mercy. Not to hurt her.

And then self-preservation kicked in and she began to fight. She went wild beneath this predator, wanting only to escape the harm he intended. She scratched, kicked, and finally was able to gather enough breath to scream.

Hysteria rose sharp, quickly overwhelming her. She was unaware of the firm hands around her wrists, holding them so she couldn’t hurt him or herself. Of the soothing voice calling her name. Telling her it was all right.

She dimly registered those things, but they were so distant. All she was cognizant of was her will to survive. Not to ever again endure what she’d endured before.

Tears bathed her face and she became aware of a high keening sound. It was coming from her. God, it was her making that god-awful sound. Why wouldn’t it stop?

“Kylie! Kylie! Listen to me. It’s me, Jensen. You’re safe, baby. God, please come back to me. I won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you.”

The entire room was spinning like some crazy Tilt-A-Whirl at the fair. Nausea rose, swift and violent, and she bolted upward, the bands around her wrists suddenly gone.

She hunched over in a protective position, shielding her most vulnerable parts. Her ribs, her belly, places that could easily be injured. Wetness soaked into her shirt sleeves and she realized she was sobbing. Giant, silent sobs welling from the deepest recesses of her chest.

A strong hand hesitantly touched her shoulder and she flinched, turning, determined to ward off an attack.

“Kylie, God, baby. It’s me. Please, baby. Look at me. See me.”

Jensen’s worried plea broke through the haze. Some of the panic dissipated, leaving her with only humiliation and abject despair. She was broken. Broken. Unfixable. Nothing would ever be right. Not for her. Never again.

She buried her face in her arms and rocked back and forth, too mortified to even look at him. How crazy he must think she was. Not think. Knew.

“Please, just go away,” she begged, her voice muffled by her arms. “Please. I can’t bear it. I’m so sorry. Just go. Please. I’m sorry.”

“Goddamn it, you won’t apologize for this,” he seethed.

The fury in his voice made her wary again and she risked a quick peek at him to gauge his temper, readying herself for the violence that would surely follow.

But he was sitting a distance from her, almost as if he were careful to maintain a barrier between them. A barrier she’d erected. Damn it, but when would she stop freaking out? Could she ever expect to have a normal life? Was it too much to ask?

Another sob welled low in her throat and tears ran like rivers down her cheeks.

“Tell me what to do to help you, baby.”

Jensen’s voice was pleading. He sounded desperate and as out of sorts as she was.

“It’s not your fault,” she choked out. “It’s me. I’m sorry. It’s me. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“The hell I didn’t,” he bit out. “It was a stupid, boneheaded thing of me to have done. I got carried away. That’s on me. Not you. Goddamn it, Kylie. I’m so sorry.”

She lifted her head, shaking it almost violently, tears still running in rivulets down her face.

“No,” she said, her voice cracking. “Not your fault. Please, just go. I just want to be alone.”

He looked uncertain. It was obvious he didn’t want to leave her in her present state but neither did he want to further upset her.

“I’ll be okay,” she said, attempting to reassure him. “I’ll be fine. Just go. I’ve ruined everything.”

“I don’t want to leave you like this,” he said, fury lacing his voice. “I did this to you. I reminded you of him and I’d goddamn die before ever making you feel that way with me. I can’t stomach the thought.”

She lowered her head miserably to her arms, grief overwhelming her. Jensen had been nothing but kind and gentle with her. So very understanding. And she’d repaid him by making him feel like some abusive asshole. Her father. Oh God, why couldn’t she control her reactions? Why did she have to freak out the minute things got heavy?

“Kylie?”

His voice was tentative and seeking. But she couldn’t look at him. Not knowing how she’d made him feel. She shook her head, the words sad and defeated as they slipped from her lips.

“Please just go, Jensen. That’s what you can do for me. And please, don’t bear the burden for what happened. It isn’t your fault. You were nothing but gentle and patient with me. I’m mortified and just want to be alone right now.”

“That’s the very last thing you need,” he huffed out in frustration.

She looked up to see him run an agitated hand through his cropped hair. He looked utterly indecisive, something she’d normally never associate with him. He was a man who was self-assured, if nothing else.

“Please,” she whispered. “Just go. I’ll be fine. It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

Her statement only seemed to enrage him more. “There’s no reason for you to deal with this alone. But if I’m making things worse, I’ll go. It’s not what I want, but for you, I’ll do it. But I don’t have to fucking like it or agree with it.”

She managed a shaky smile through watery eyes.

He hesitated, as if deciding whether to touch her or do anything other than say good-bye. Then finally he rose from the couch, defeat burning in his eyes. She hated that she’d done that to him. That she’d taken him down with her in her never-ending mire of despair.

This was a lesson to her. A hard one, but a lesson nonetheless. She wasn’t capable of a normal, healthy relationship with anyone. She was an idiot to have dreamed, even for a moment, that it was possible.