“No!” She jerked it away, hugging the dish protectively to her chest. “Please, don’t.”
He yanked his hand back, scalded by her reaction. “Jesus, Rylee. I’m not going to take your food away.”
She didn’t move, her glare distrustful and defensive.
He’d done that. Adding to her fears of intimacy and commitment, he’d instilled a new one.
Starvation.
What kind of monster was he?
“Fuck.” He shoved away from the island and paced through the kitchen. “I fucked up. Cole warned me. He told me if I harmed you and learned you were innocent, that I would wear the scars.” His chest hurt, and his stomach coiled in a turmoil of guilt. But he wouldn’t give up. Pausing a few feet away, he looked her square in the eyes. “You have every right to hate me. I know you’re pissed. So yell at me. Let me hear it. Act like a fucking adult and confront me.”
Her lips parted. “The day I walked into your house, those were my words.”
“I’ve been listening.” He lowered his head and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not going to apologize. I won’t beg for your forgiveness. Instead, I’m going to make you a promise.” He lifted only his eyes, pinning her with a stare she couldn’t ignore. “I will not repeat my mistakes. Let me be clear. My only priorities are to protect you and keep you healthy. I will not cheat on you. I will not starve you. But I will hurt you.”
“Why?”
“Because when we’re in love, we will hurt each other as much as we save each other.”
She sat still for so long he thought he’d lost her inside her head.
At last, she released her death grip on the bowl, set it on the counter, and tucked back into her meal.
He returned to the stool beside her, bracketing her rigid body in the V of his thighs. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I should be in Texas, helping Evan’s parents bury their son.”
“And get yourself killed in the process? I won’t allow it.”
“Of course, you won’t. You’re a domineering prick.” She chewed slowly, eyes on her salad and voice soft. “I don’t belong here. I’m not a vigilante. I have nothing to offer.”
“You just took out an assassin. The man who killed an innocent motel clerk. You succeeded where we failed. I’d say you’ve more than proved your value in this fight.”
“I don’t want to be here.”
“Tell me why.”
She finished the last bite of salad and stood, carrying her bowl to the sink. “I didn’t choose this.”
“None of us chose it. You know our histories. This life chose us.”
“I work in law enforcement.”
“Van’s father was the Austin Police Chief.”
“I don’t carry weapons.”
“Amber, Kate, and Josh don’t carry weapons.” He rose from the stool and prowled around the island to stand behind her. “You carry a shotgun in your truck, and let’s not forget the butcher knife you stole from my house.”
She stiffened at his nearness. “I was in danger.”
“You’re still in danger.” Lowering his nose to her hair, he breathed in her mouth-watering femininity. “That’s why you don’t want to be here.”
“Because I’m in danger of getting killed by one of your homicidal friends?”
“No, Rylee.” He trailed the backs of his fingers down her arms, making her shiver. “Because you’re in danger of falling in love.”
“Oh, my God.” She shot out from beneath the press of his body and scurried around the island. “What is this obsession you suddenly have with love? The man who wrote those emails plowed through hundreds of women and couldn’t emotionally connect with any of them.”
“None of them were you.” He stalked after her. “You blindsided me. Knocked me on my ass.”
“I can’t stand you.” She backed away, rubbing her arms, looking for all the world like she wanted to run.
“You can’t stand the thought of me getting too close.” He closed the distance, backing her into the corner of the kitchen. “Because I am getting too close, and when I ram through that armor around your heart, you think you’re going to get hurt again.”
“You don’t know me.” Her back bumped into the pantry door, her eyes darting, searching for a way out. “You don’t love me.”
“You’ll deny it. You’ll fight it with every breath in your body.” He braced a hand on the door above her head and leaned in. “But having already experienced it once, you know it’s a fight you can’t win.”
“Stop throwing my words back at me!” She shoved at his chest, ducked under his arm, and darted toward the hallway.
“Stop running from them like a hypocrite.”
“I’m not running.” She held up her middle finger without slowing.
She wasn’t literally running. But that speed-walk of hers wiggled her ass in a spellbinding way. He followed it like a tractor beam, locked onto the diabolical, heart-shaped curves. Fucking hell, she was built. All toned muscle, flawless skin, fiery temper, and his.