Dragging in an unsteady breath, I attempted to stave off the attraction. To wade through the onslaught of sensations. To get myself to solid ground before I went under.
But the only thing I could focus on was the energy that bounded between us. The thunder that raged. I was just asking to get crushed when I let my shaky fingertips reach out to brush across the strength of his chest, lost to the magnet that pulled between us.
To the boom, boom, boom that crashed in the space. “And so is yours.”
He let go of an incredulous sound. “That is the problem, isn’t it? This feeling? I’ve ignored the thousand fuckin’ times I’ve told myself to turn my back, to kick you from the club, to grab my kid and run in the opposite direction. And instead of listening to reason, I’ve run straight toward you. Now I’m standing right here imagining the fastest way to get you out of these clothes.”
“We would be a mistake.”
“Makin’ it would be fun, though, wouldn’t it?” A smirk kissed his mouth, plush lips tweaking at the side.
“I’m sure you have plenty of fun.” I couldn’t keep the edge out of my voice. The questions. The fact I hardly knew him but still was certain that our lives were lived in opposition.
A big hand splayed across the side of my face, warmth invading, the pad of his thumb brushing across my bottom lip. “When is the last time you let go, Miss Murphy? When is the last time you did something just for the sake of how good it would feel?”
That energy rushed. Pulled and prodded and compelled.
Images flashed through my mind before I could stop them.
His hands. His mouth. My legs wrapped around his waist as we writhed.
A small gasp parted my lips as I was slammed with a shockwave of need.
Dark eyes blazed in a torrent of greed. “Let go with me. Just once. Just tonight,” he rumbled, both hands gripping my jaw.
I blinked with the harsh impact of what he said.
With the reality.
Of what he had to offer.
The truth that we really didn’t match. That I didn’t fit and I never would.
I knew better, knew better, and there I’d been, a second from giving in.
Shoving down the pain of the rejection, I forced myself to take a step back, to hedge myself, because he was asking me to go somewhere I couldn’t go.
A place my spirit would never survive.
“You’re my boss, Mr. Lawson, and I’m your son’s teacher.”
His hands squeezed tighter. “Don’t give a fuck.”
“I don’t…” It popped out before I could stop it, and I trailed off when I realized what I’d nearly said. The last thing I should do was give this part of myself to him. He’d throw it in my face. Belittle me for who I was.
His nostrils flared as he edged back to stare down at me.
Ruining me with a look.
“You don’t what?” His voice was the rough scrape of a command.
I wet my lips and pushed out the little I was willing to give him. “I don’t sleep with random men.”
Trent reached out and ran the tip of his index finger along the line of my jaw.
Electricity crackled.
There was more pleasure in that moment than I’d felt since I could remember. My lips parted and I struggled to stand on my weakened knees.
“Why’s it we don’t feel that random?” he muttered.
Don’t fall.
Don’t fall.
“I don’t have any room for any more breaking,” I whispered on an uneven breath, giving him another piece of myself.
No doubt, he saw the sorrow written all over me, anyway.
He dropped his hands like I’d burned him and stepped back. “Only thing I’m good for, though, isn’t it?”
He didn’t want my answer. He’d already answered it for himself.
Sadness filled my chest. For him. Maybe a little for me. Still, I said, “I can’t believe that.”
He may as well have been climbing inside me.
With the way that gaze flared and deepened and dimmed.
Terrified of trusting me, maybe the same way as I was terrified of trusting him.
“You should. All I’ve got is for my son.”
“He’s your world. Exactly as he should be.”
“And I still don’t deserve him,” he gritted. Self-disgust clogged his expression in misery.
A place unseen.
A place I was one-hundred-percent certain he wouldn’t share with me.
Still, a little more truth came riding out. “I have a feeling you’re exactly what he needs.”
Agitated, Trent shoved his hands in his pockets, vulnerable for the first time. “Tryin’ to be, Eden. Tryin’ so fucking hard. Most days, I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Everything ached.
My heart and my body and that vacant place.
“As long as you never stop trying, you’ll both be just fine.”
For a beat, rage hardened his features to stone. Something I didn’t understand. It was the part of him that terrified me, and I had a feeling it was for good reason.