Taking What's His (Shillings Agency 4)

She came closer. “Kiss me.”

“What?” He stumbled backward. “No way.”

“Prove to me that you can kiss me and not care.” She fisted his shirt and tugged him closer. “Kiss me.”

He shook

his head, but didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure he trusted himself to. With an unsteady grip, he cupped her hips, his heart pounding in his ears.

Resting her hands on his chest, she pleaded with him. “Tell me this is some kind of heroic attempt to set me free, or some other ridiculous crap like you read in the romance books, or see in the movies.”

“It’s over, Lyd. It’s that simple.”

She nodded once. “Then kiss me. Prove you feel nothing. What will it hurt?”

Everything. His heart twisted. She was fucking killing him. Why couldn’t she just leave already? Anger at himself, and at the whole fucking situation, hit him hard. He didn’t want to do this, but he was. And, yes, he knew that long distance relationships were a possibility, and that they could maybe make it.

But he knew nothing about love or relationships in the first place, and the last thing he wanted was a fucking long distance one hanging over his head. Or hers. He’d only hurt her in the end.

So he might as well do it now instead.

Cursing under his breath, he smashed his mouth to hers, forcing himself to keep his mind and heart detached. Think of war. And pain. And all the death. Anything to stop your heart from warming even more under her soft touch. After he counted to five, he ended the kiss and let go of her instantly, as if he couldn’t wait to move on.

As if he couldn’t wait to forget all about her.

Hell, he even ran the back of his hand across his mouth as he stepped back. “Life isn’t a fucking romance book, and it’s not a movie. It’s just cold, hard reality. And we’re done.”

“I…I’m…” She clutched her coat as if she clung to it for dear life. Her eyes filled with tears, and she nodded. Without finishing, she whirled on her heel, and she didn’t look back as she ran out of his house. He stood there, staring at the closed door. Alone.

He’d won. He’d sent her running so she could live out her life. Find a guy who didn’t have a history like him. Get married and have cute fucking babies with happy fucking smiles in a pretty fucking house in Delaware. And he’d be here. Alone.

Funny. That didn’t feel like winning to him.

Snarling, he picked up the crystal bowl that he’d found in the attic when he’d bought the place and chucked it at the closed door. It shattered into a million fragments. Next, he picked up the matching vase, which had nothing in it, and threw that, too.

It still wasn’t enough to dull the pain piercing his chest.

Chapter Sixteen

A week later, Lydia stood in the shadow of the trees, a glass of spiked punch in her hand and a sunhat shielding her face. It had been seven days since Holt had broken it off with her and she’d made a fool of herself in his living room. She’d been so sure he was making some sort of noble gesture to save her or something. That it had all been an act.

But then she’d seen the empty way he’d looked at her, and felt the passion missing from his kiss, and she’d realized how wrong she’d been. He didn’t care, and he never had. All those pretty words he’d said about caring about her, and wanting to take a chance on opening himself up to her, were a lie. Maybe he’d felt them at that moment. Maybe he’d thought they were true when he’d said them. But if they had been, they weren’t anymore.

Anything he’d felt for her was gone.

If he ever felt anything for you at all, a small voice whispered in the back of her head.

Steven came up to her. They were at the house of a friend of his, a brother of a coworker or something along those lines. A small part of her had almost backed out when he’d told her it was a work friend, but she refused to cower inside her apartment in fear of seeing Holt, refused to avoid him because he’d broken her heart.

If he could forget about her and move on, so could she.

Her heart would be fine.

And if she happened to see him here, she’d lift her chin, smile coolly as if he hadn’t broken her, and act as if he was no one to her. Even if it killed her.

Besides, Gianna had come, too. So she had back up.

“Hey, come here,” Steven said, catching her elbow and dragging her along without waiting for her to reply. “I want to introduce you to someone.”