More Than You Know (23 page)

He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. Shining with tears, she looked back at him with such raw need, such fragile openness . . . the emotions swelled within him as he was consumed with wanting to make her feel his love, to make her feel safe and adored.

And he knew if he told her that, she'd run for the hills and never look back.

So he decided to do the next best thing, the only thing he could. He'd show her.

Caressing her body with light, feather-gentle strokes, he trailed his lips across her skin. He covered her face in kisses, tiny sweet ones, on her cheeks, her nose, her eyelids, her mouth, until her tears stopped. Slowly he continued along her throat, her shoulders, her chest . . .

Her fingers tangled in his hair as he worked his way down her body, covering her in tender kisses until she tugged at him to come back up. Looking into her eyes, he hovered over her and stared as he brushed her hair back from her forehead. Their gazes locked and held. Emotion rushed through him, quieter now but still powerful. He thought the words in his head, trying them on for size since he'd never said them to a woman before.
I love you. Love you . . .

“I could look at you all day long,” he said.

“It's nighttime,” she pointed out.

“I could look at you all night long.”

“Back atcha.”

With her sassy little quips, he knew she was trying to hold on to the last shreds of her defenses. “You're a very beautiful woman, Julia,” he murmured. He kissed her, long and slow. “And you taste good too.”

A surprised giggle burst from her. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.” He dipped his head to sip from her lips some more. “God, yeah . . .” He deepened the kiss and she opened to him. Their arms entwined, their tongues tangled. They held each other close and kissed for a long time. With his mouth, with his hands, with his body, he tried to make her feel cherished, secure, even revered. Gradually, he felt her body ease at last, the trembling replaced by surer movements.

After a long, dreamy while, the kisses intensified, and then her hips nudged his.

“Make love to me,” she whispered.

His heart skipped a beat. She'd never said anything so soft and so sweet to him before. Not like that. In answer, he cradled her head in his hands and kissed her deeply, with all the tenderness he possessed.

Chapter Fourteen

Golden rays of sunlight peeked in through the curtains, too bright on Julia's face. She moaned softly and rolled away from the light—into a warm, naked body. Her eyes snapped open. Her heart stopped for a second, then took off with a gallop. She'd stayed the night. Jesus, she'd slept there. She
never
stayed the night.

But even in her shock, she had to pause. While asleep, Dane looked like a Greek god, damn him. His long, dark lashes made her want to touch them. His chiseled jaw was covered in dark stubble, only making him even sexier to her. And his curls, those curls she absolutely adored . . . all tousled, calling to her fingers to come and play. She stared at him.

The rise and fall of his chest hypnotized and lulled her as she considered him. No man had ever made love to her as sweetly and attentively as he had last night. Her insides wobbled just thinking about it. He'd blown apart the last of her preconceived notions with might. Dane Harrison was no flighty playboy. He wasn't a player at all. He was decent, kind, and caring. Sensitive and sweet. He'd been so good to her last night.

Last night . . . oh God, Liam . . .

She squeezed her eyes shut against the memory. Liam showing up, out of nowhere, after all this time . . . and at her job, for God's sake. She couldn't have been more shocked. Then, when he grabbed her and shoved her back against the wall, scared. Then, she'd totally lost it. In front of Dane. First screaming and trying to claw at Liam, then breaking down into tears like a weak fool. And he'd stayed. He should've gone running, dumped her on the spot. They were only sleeping together, after all—he didn't have to do a thing for her, much less stick around for that kind of garbage.

But no. What had he done? Stood up for her. Let her cry and fall apart. Asked for details so he could better understand. Ordered drinks and food and made sure she was all right. Hung out with her and Kelvin like they were all old friends. Took her up to his suite to comfort her, make love to her, and done so with a tenderness beyond anything she could have imagined. And then he'd held her. Held her close, and tight, with gentle softness in his eyes, his voice, his touch . . .

He'd been so gentle, so tender, that her heart had just thawed, tumbled, and split wide open. She'd never felt so adored; not just in how he touched her, but in how he spoke to her, looked at her. She saw true feeling in his stunning blue eyes, she sensed it. It had taken her breath away. And that was it. He'd looked right into her eyes as he slid deep inside her, touched her heart with that intense but affectionate stare, and she'd thought, clear as day,
I love you.

She'd fallen asleep in his arms, with him stroking her back and whispering honeyed words . . . “I've got you,” he told her over and over as she drifted off to sleep. “I've got you.”

How could she
not
love him after last night? And it was awful, just awful. Admitting to herself she loved him was the worst thing she'd done in a long, long time.

Her heart thumped against her ribs as panic started welling in her chest.
He'll never love you,
her mind screamed at her.
Get out now, while you can, you fool. He'll never choose someone like you.

She pulled away from Dane, careful not to wake him. Her stomach flipped nauseously as her demons continued to torment her.
Come ON, Julia, get real! You're from another world. He's crazy rich, younger than you, drop-dead gorgeous. And one day, he'll want a child of his own. You're too old to give him children. You're a good time, “Red”. You're for now. He'll never love you back. He was so nice to you last night because he felt sorry for you.

Shaking inside, she untangled herself from his arms and slipped out of bed. Her clothes were in a pile on the floor where she'd left them the night before, and she tiptoed to them. With trembling hands, she turned her back to him to pull on her panties, then her bra.

“Where you goin'?” came Dane's gravelly voice.

She whirled to face him. He was awake and watching her. Busted. “I . . . have to go,” she mumbled, reaching for the pale blue cotton tank dress on the floor. She pulled it over her head and down over her body with quick, terse movements.

“No you don't,” he said, his tone changing. “Come here.”

“No. I have to leave.” She looked around wildly. Where was her bag? What had she done with her shoes? Her heart started to pound.

“Julia. Look at me.”

She shook her head and continued to search. All she heard was roaring in her ears, the blood pulsing.

He threw back the covers and went to her, grasping her shoulders. “Look at me.”

She did, hoping he couldn't see the swirl of raging emotions she was fighting. Hoping he couldn't see what she felt for him, bubbling deep and trying to break through. But his eyes were intense, searching her face for clues.

“Tell me why you have to go,” he said.

“I just do,” she stammered. Her mind blanked, and the rising panic was making it harder for her to breathe. Her heart felt stuck in her chest, and she rubbed at her sternum in an effort to relieve the pressure.

“What the—why are you shaking? Hey. Everything's okay.” His velvety voice, intending to soothe, only made it worse. God, when he used that tone with her, her bones melted to goop. She adored it. She adored him. Ugh, she was in too deep. This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to care about him, much less fall in love with him.

“I—I need air. I have to go. Let me go.” She shoved away from him and walked out to the sitting room. Her bag was on the coffee table, and she spotted her shoes by the door.

“Don't leave like this,” he said with an edge, following her. “Please. Talk to me.”

She glanced at him. Still naked, he was glorious to look at. Did he have to look so damn good when she was fighting off a panic attack? Fighting the frightening things she felt for him? Trying to make a clean getaway? “There's nothing to talk about,” she bit out. She grabbed her bag and slung the strap over her shoulder.

“I think we have lots to talk about,” he said, his voice clipped. “But you're running away. Even after last night. I thought—”

She turned on him and almost shouted, “I don't do sleepovers. I don't stay the night.”

“Well, maybe you don't usually have nights like we had last night,” he offered. “A night like that would wipe anyone out. I passed out pretty quickly too.”

She shook her head and started for the exit. In two seconds, he had cut around her and stood in front of the door.

“You're going to keep me here?” she said tightly.

“No, of course not. But Julia . . .” He stared down at her, his bright blue eyes flashing. “Don't run away,” he ground out. “You're better than that.”

 

 

“Apparently I'm not,” Julia said in a low growl. “Stop telling me what to do, what to feel, who I am. Stop trying to manage my life. Let me out.”

Dane's mind raced. He knew a fight or flight when he saw one, and she was running for her life. She was anxious, shaky, and looked both mad as hell and scared to death at the same time. He wasn't trying to manage her life, for God's sake. But something told him that if he let her walk out the door now, their . . . relationship, arrangement, whatever the hell it was, would be over. And he cared about her too much to let her go. More than he'd realized.

But if that's how it came across to her, that he was trying to manage her . . . or even
control
her . . . hell, he never meant for it to seem like that. He was just trying to help her. He was a guy, he fixed things. That's what guys did. Or so he thought . . . Jesus, he didn't know which end was up right then.

Her flushed face, wild eyes, tight words, and need to escape told him several things. She was embarrassed about what had happened the night before with Liam—hell, that was obvious. She probably figured he thought less of her for being involved with someone like that, and for some of the things that had happened in her past, things she'd begrudgingly revealed to him.

But he didn't. He only thought
more
of her, for fighting back and making a life for herself despite taking so many horrible hits. He thought he'd made that clear to her last night. He'd done everything he could to make her feel cherished, cared for, and safe. He thought she'd finally relaxed enough to let him be there for her.

But not in the light of day, he supposed. He saw the panic in her eyes, and it made him want to punch the wall. “Julia, I'm not trying to manage your life. I'm not trying to tell you what to do.”

“Yes you are,” she countered.

“I'm not, really. If it came across like that, I'm sorry. Please, just listen to me. Okay?”

She didn't say yes or no, but she didn't move. Her eyes slid to his shoulder so she didn't have to make eye contact.

“I know we said no strings, but . . .” He stared her down. “Now . . . maybe . . . I'm seeing some strings here. I mean, I'm sorry, but anyone would have compassion for another person who went through what you did last night.”

She gasped in what seemed to him like horror. Her eyes widened, and she staggered back a step. “You felt sorry for me,” she whispered raggedly. “That was a pity fuck last night. Oh
God.
”

“No! No, it wasn't. Don't you dare say things like that.” He grasped her arms, but made sure to do so gently. “Julia, that bastard shook you up. He brought back terrible memories. I learned things I probably never would have if it hadn't been for that situation. Now you're regretting it. I get that. But you don't have to run out of here like a bat out of hell, you're safe with me. We're . . . I want you . . .”
To give me—us—a chance.
“I want you to feel safe with me. I'm feeling superprotective of you this morning.”

She stopped wiggling under his hands and looked at him.

“I'm not asking a thing of you,” he said. “Just . . . that you don't leave like this.” His eyes bore into hers. “Last night—I'm talking about the part between us,
here
—that was . . . beautiful. Don't end a night like that with a move like this.”

Her eyes went a little round at that. She drew a shaky breath and stayed silent, but didn't move to leave. Maybe he was getting through to her.

He relaxed his grip and rubbed her arms. “Stay a while. I'll order up some breakfast. Eat something. Then, if you want to go, you can go. I just . . .” Looking down at her, he realized he had no idea what was going through her head. The kinder he was to her, the more she bucked him. Sad frustration permeated him and he sighed in resignation. He was a fool; he wasn't going to undo years of emotional damage with one gorgeous night. What was he thinking? He released her arms. “You know what? I'm not begging here. You want to go? Go. Leave if you need to. But just know I'd've liked it if you said good-bye before you did, instead of slipping out without a word.”

“You're right,” she whispered mournfully. “I'm sorry.”

“Thanks.”
I love you. Just let me in.
He wanted to say it so much, but swallowed it. “I'm going to order up breakfast. I'm ordering for two. Then I'm going to take a fast shower. When I come out, if you're still here, I'd like for you to join me. Your call.”

She didn't say anything, but looked into his eyes and gave a timid nod.

He quickly kissed her forehead, then strode away from her, went to the bathroom, and shut the door. Exhaling a deep sigh, he leaned back against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut.

Goddammit, she was hurting. Her usual self-confidence had been shaken, her shields hit, and she looked plain scared. He hated that for her. He hated the pain in her eyes. The doubt, mistrust, panic, and worst of all, a hint of self-loathing. After the day on his yacht, he thought he'd broken through her walls a little bit. Enough for her to relax around him, anyway. Not anymore. Last night's trip down memory lane had messed her up, and she was scrambling to both protect herself and shut him out. It was sadly obvious to him, and seeing all that in his strong, bold redhead filled him with anguish. He ached for her.

As for her comment about his trying to manage her life, it still bothered him. That wasn't what he'd been trying to do. Was it? He scrubbed a hand over his face. Since seeing Liam looming over her, Dane had felt a resounding need to protect her that had walloped him and wouldn't stop. Someone had threatened her, and every prehistoric male stereotype he-man instinct had kicked right in.

And then in bed, last night . . . she had drunk in his affection like someone who'd been dying of thirst. She'd let him be gentle, shower her with tenderness . . . and he'd realized then, when he looked deep into her beautiful eyes as he slipped inside her, that he was totally head over heels in love with her. And, if he wasn't mistaken, as their eyes had locked as he moved inside her, he'd seen a hint of deeper feelings in her eyes too.

Now, she was trying to push him away. Neither of them was feeling sassy and playful, as they usually were together. She was scared and scattered, he was confused and fiercely protective. It was new territory, and he didn't know the landscape. All he knew was he cared. No, one other thing he knew: the more he showed her that, the more she'd push him away.

He'd have to play it cool. Keep his feelings hidden, not scare her off. For now, that was how he'd have to handle it, until she was acting and feeling more like herself again. Then . . . then maybe he could find a way to tell her how he really felt. In the meantime: damage control.