He doesn’t say a word. Neither do I. We just stand in the dark, his hands sliding to my hips.
I don’t trust myself to speak. My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it.
I can’t seem to move. I’m afraid if I do, he’ll move away.
It’s been too long since I trusted a man enough to let him touch me.
When his hands move to the small of my back, a tiny moan escapes before I can stop it.
Zane freezes, his hands drop and he jerks away from me.
I’m so mortified that I shrink back from him, fumble, and slam my knee into the doorframe.
I let out a yelp as tears of humiliation sting my eyes.
His hands are right back on me again, helping me hobble into my bedroom. “Are you okay?”
I bite my lip to keep from crying in front of him. “Mmmhmm,” I manage.
I sink into the mattress as he lingers beside the bed seconds ago I was stupidly thinking of inviting him into.
“I’m fine. You should get some sleep,” I manage to say.
He sighs. “Felicity, this isn’t…it’s…” he tries to say.
I wave my hand in the air even though, small mercy, he probably can’t see me. “Go to bed.”
I can just make it out as he runs his hand over his neck. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
The second he closes my door I curl up in a ball and spend far too many hours trying to convince myself that wanting a man like Zane was just a moment of weakness.
