Coils of panic twisted in his gut, and he jerked back. He wanted to ask if she was okay, if she needed anything, to tell her he was sorry if he’d gone too far, but his throat muscles wouldn’t work.
As she straightened and turned, letting out a trembling breath, he gazed down at his hands. Dear God, had he become his stepfather after all?
When he chanced another glance at her, he had to swallow hard. Tear tracks wended their way down her pale face, and she wiped them away, laughing weakly. “I get like this sometimes,” she began, falling silent at his expression.
Or at least that was what he assumed stopped her cold. If his current mental state was obvious to her, he could only imagine what he looked like.
His shoulders ached from the effort it took not to cradle her against him. He needed to talk her through this. Talk them through it. He’d obviously pushed her over the line, and he had to ensure she was all right. The last thing he’d wanted to do was to hurt her, and he’d done exactly that.
Haze of passion or not, he’d known better. They hadn’t set firm limits, and he’d just blasted clear through his own anyway.
Why couldn’t he fucking speak?
She pursed her lips and drew herself up to her full height. She was so petite, so delicate, and he’d deeply reddened her flesh. He’d hurt her. Sensual pain was still pain, wasn’t it?
For a few blissed-out moments he’d forgotten anything other than her acceptance. Than her longing for the same thing he craved. Together they’d shoved past their own limits.
Except it was too soon. She’d been injured a couple of days ago. Occasionally he still saw her limping. And she’d just left a long-term relationship. Neither of them were in the place for something so intense right out of the damn gate.
God, if he could be so rough with someone he cared about as much as he did Kylie, what might he do to someone he didn’t?
Like her ex?
“Justin?” she whispered.
Apologies hesitated on his tongue. Pleas. Saying them would only hasten her retreat and deepen his own remorse. She wouldn’t stay with him, not when he couldn’t look her in the eye.
Better all around that he just shut down and make it easier for her to go. Then he’d figure out how to get his shit together.
Far away from Kylie.
He pushed a shaking hand through his hair and turned unseeing eyes toward the doorway. “I have a call to make.”
Before she could ask him to come back, he walked out of the kitchen.
Seven
Kylie wanted to chase after him. In fact, she’d started to do just that when she realized she only had his apron to wear since her clothes were in the living room. Somehow she didn’t figure that was the appropriate outfit for a conversation like this.
Whatever it was.
She wasn’t sure what had happened at the end of their lovemaking, but something had gone wrong. She’d gotten teary, yes, but that happened sometimes when she came. It was probably clichéd, and maybe a little weird too, but she couldn’t help the emotions a strong climax brought up inside her.
Besides, if she were really being honest, she hadn’t simply teared up because she’d come so freaking hard she’d almost burst a blood vessel. The true reason had a lot more to do with the man who’d been inside her than the physical responses he’d coaxed from her body.
It was too soon for her to feel so emotionally on edge around him, wasn’t it? She shouldn’t feel as if she were on a tightrope and a hasty step in either direction would send her plummeting.
With as long as they’d been friends, she should not be falling this fast.
She definitely hadn’t the first time around. And as much as she’d like to credit his tongue ring and hot tat and sexual kinks, she knew it was much more than that. She was…ready for Justin.
Not just physically. Spiritually. Mentally.
But psychologically? That was the sticking point. She’d just gotten out of a troubled relationship. If she hoped to have a more stable one with Justin, she couldn’t just go bopping into it. Especially not considering everything he had in his past. He had his own issues, and ignoring them now would probably cause them a hell of a lot of pain later. She’d kinda filled up her quotient of pain for a while.
But that didn’t mean she knew what to do next.
At a loss, she sat at the table. The pizza would be done soon, and then maybe over dinner they could—