Sinful Proposition

He finally glanced at her, and the look in his eyes was empty and devoid of any emotion. As if he was hardening his heart all over again when she’d just started to find her way into it. “There is nothing to talk about, and I prefer to be alone.”

There was such finality to his words, even without him saying outright that they were through, but Tempest wasn’t one to just walk away when things got tough or obstacles were put her path. Not when it came to something she wanted, and in this case, for the first time in her life, what she wanted, what she needed, was the man she’d fallen in love with. Without a shadow of a doubt, she knew that Remy, despite all those inner demons he was battling, was worth fighting for.

“I know you’re not used to counting on anyone or sharing your pain and grief, but you’re pushing me away when you need me the most,” she said, hating the desperate tone of her voice and the tears that burned at the back of her throat. “That’s not what couples who care for one another do, Remy. They lean on each other. They share their fears and insecurities, knowing that the other person will be there for them. I will always be here for you.”

“You can’t know that,” he said, his tone flat.

She knew he’d never had that kind of loyalty in his life, someone steadfast and true that he could always depend on no matter what, and in a moment of clarity, it dawned on her that he was attempting to let her go before she walked away from him, which, in his experience with women, was all he knew. Deep inside, he was still that little boy who feared being rejected by someone he loved. She already knew him that well.

She unbuckled her seat belt and turned toward him, prepared to fight for the happiness they’d created together over the past two months. The soul-deep intimacy. The fundamental connection that she’d never had with another person other than her brothers.

“What we have is special, Remy. And . . . I love you,” she confessed. She’d meant to tell him tonight, when they were alone, as part of his birthday gift, but he clearly needed to hear it now. “I know we didn’t start this relationship heading in that direction, but how could I not fall in love with a man who is so innately good, despite how bad the two previous women in your life made you feel? You are worth loving, Remy.”

He released a harsh laugh, his eyes dark and tortured. “What does a tramp like me have to offer a lady like you?”

“A lady like me?” she repeated carefully. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Someone bold and confident and who already has it all,” he said, waving a hand between the two of them in the car. “A woman who doesn’t need a man in her life for anything.”

The fearful tears she’d managed to swallow back rushed forward again, this time in frustration. “No, I don’t need a man in my life,” she said, so mad at Remy for punishing himself and wanting more than anything to knock some sense into him. “But I want a man in my life. Big difference. I want a man to stand by my side and be my equal. To share the good and bad times with me and who’ll support me and all my endeavors. I want a man to build a life with and have a family with. I want that with you, Remy.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I am not that man, and this isn’t one of your fairy tales, Tempest.”

She flinched at his words, at the sting they left behind that only served to ramp up her anger. “Yes, it is. It’s my fairy tale. Not anyone else’s. Mine. And I get to choose how it ends and with whom. I want that happily ever after with you, Remy.”

His expression remained resolute. “And that’s not something I can give you.”

She didn’t understand how he could be so obtuse. How could he just throw away what they had without a fair chance? Despite trying to hold them back, the hot tears filling her eyes spilled over and she quickly swiped them away, but now that the dam had broken, she couldn’t stop the flow.

Still, she lifted her chin, trying to retain some pride. “Are you really going to let your mother and Rachel and what they did to you have that kind of control over your life and your future with me?” she asked, though she didn’t expect an answer. “Are you going to let them keep you paralyzed with fear and insecurities to the point that you spend the rest of your life alone?”

She balled her hands into fists to keep from pounding on his chest. “Goddammit, Remy, your mother might have crushed your hopes and dreams and happiness when you were a child, but do not give her the power to steal it as an adult.”

His lips remained pursed, his eyes conflicted. With nothing else to say, she dashed away more tears, then opened the car door, stepped out, and closed it behind her, feeling even more gutted when he didn’t call her name to stay. To talk this through. To work it out. To believe that she would never cause him the kind of pain his mother and Rachel had.

She’d left everything on the table, including her heart. If that wasn’t enough to convince him that she was in this for the long haul, then she didn’t know what would.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Remy slammed his hand down on the steering wheel and released a stream of expletives that did nothing to make him feel better. What the hell was wrong with him that he’d just let Tempest walk away after she’d poured her heart out to him? But he knew the answer to that question . . . he was honest-to-God afraid that loving Tempest, and losing her, would destroy him.

And that’s exactly how he felt right now. Like a man who one minute had it all and the next moment had nothing but shambles at his feet. Tempest had offered him everything a man could ever want, and he’d let old fucking insecurities that had been dredged up by his mother’s unexpected appearance at the restaurant mess with his head and his emotions.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against his seat, silently berating himself. Two incredible months with Tempest, and he’d just thrown away everything they’d shared—the intimacy and bond they’d created between them, the trust and mutual respect they’d forged together—all because years of self-doubts had sabotaged his ability to believe someone like Tempest could love s

omeone like him.

But she had, and did . . . and he groaned at his stupidity when he recalled her heartfelt and shocking declaration. She’d fallen in love with him, baggage and all, and was he now really going to throw away the chance at something so precious and rare?

No, you’re not, you idiot, his conscience informed him, and along with that came a sense of clarity. Remy couldn’t change his past, but he no longer wanted to be a victim of his own memories, fears, and insecurities. What he did want, more than anything, was a future of hope and possibilities, with Tempest—not the existence of regret and fear and loneliness he’d been living before she’d stormed into his life.

He needed her. He wanted her. He loved her. And he needed to tell her and hoped she forgave him for letting her walk away.

The opening of the passenger-side door startled Remy out of his thoughts, and he opened his eyes, so grateful that Tempest had returned so they could talk.

“Tempest—”

“Nope,” a deep male voice cut him off, and Remy watched as Maddux folded his big frame into the car.

Jesus Christ. Remy stared in confusion at the other man, and even though the two of them were friends, he didn’t much care for the intimidating glare on Maddux’s face. “Uh, what are you doing?”