Gentleman Sinner(54)

I suck in air. What? ‘You’ve looked me up? Why would you do that?’

‘Don’t tell me you haven’t Googled me.’

My hesitation is a sign of my guilt. ‘For what use it was, yes.’

‘What’s your story, Izzy White?’

‘What’s yours, Theo Kane?’ I retort.

He smiles a little in understanding and drops his hands from the doorframe, letting them hang by his side. I can see his chest pumping in time to the feel of mine. All this delving into my past, albeit unproductive for Theo, is challenging me. I’ve thought about it more since I met him than I have since running away. I don’t want to think about it. Ever.

‘I’m a man most are wary of,’ he says quietly, studying me closely as he speaks.

He must realize that he’s telling me something I already know. ‘Why are they wary?’

‘Because they’re scared.’

‘To touch you,’ I say, and he nods. ‘Why can’t they touch you?’

His jaw pulses a little, and I see with perfect clarity how much effort it’s taking to tell me, which only leaves me increasingly worried. Even just talking about his phobia stokes his temper. ‘I don’t like being touched when I’m not expecting it.’ Theo’s chest visibly pulses as he gets a hold of himself. ‘I need warning to prepare myself. I’ve learned to read people, to predict their moves, but it’s a constant challenge. It’s exhausting, hence the control of my home.’ He pauses for a beat, letting me absorb it all. ‘Your touch sinks past my skin, Izzy. It warms me. With you, I barely need to think. My body responds to you. I don’t know why, but it does.’

‘Except in bed.’

‘While I’m lost in you, I want only to be lost in you. I won’t risk losing my focus when we’re intimate. Like I’ve promised you before, I won’t hurt you, not in any way.’ He gives my cheek a light brush with his palm, his smile fond as I nuzzle into his hand. ‘I hope you believe me.’

‘I do,’ I assure him, feeling a little overcome. ‘I’ve never doubted that part of you.’

Dropping a kiss on my lips, he strokes over the curve of my arse. ‘Now, tell me about you,’ he mumbles against my mouth.

I withdraw fast, and it is complete instinct. ‘What?’ I feel myself folding in once again.

‘I’ve shared, now I want to know about you.’

I stare at him, seeing the questions in his eyes. Yes, he’s shared, but I’m certain there must be more to it than that. Like why he’s like he is. But this has to be give and take, right? He’s shared a little, and if I want this to work – and I so do – then I have to reciprocate, no matter how much it hurts. ‘My mother died of cancer when I was seventeen. She was all I had, and I . . .’ I gulp, battling with my instinct to run before I can be forced to share something I really do not want to share. ‘We weren’t rich. We only had each other, so I had nothing when she was gone. No home, no money. I needed money.’

Theo is quiet for a second, and I just know it’s because he’s trying to hold back from asking the question that I really don’t want him to ask. But, of course, he does, ignoring the pleading in my eyes. ‘So what did you do?’

I look down, so ashamed of myself. Not just for what I’m about to tell him, but for bending the truth. ‘I was a stripper, Theo. I took my clothes off for men.’ I wish that was all there was to tell. I so wish that was the end of my story.

I see him move away a little. Like I’m dirt. ‘A stripper,’ he murmurs, so quietly.

‘I’m not proud.’

‘How old were you?’

I’m wincing again. ‘Seventeen.’ I hear a low growl. ‘It wasn’t for long. I scraped some money together and got out.’ Another lie. ‘I hated not being able to ease my mother’s pain when she was ill. It was natural for me to study medicine. So I left Manchester and came to London. I wanted to be a doctor, but I couldn’t afford the fees. Nursing was the next best thing. It was as far as I could go on my own.’ That much is the truth. The rest of the horrid story will remain under lock and key. I look up to Theo, hating the undeniable shock on his face. Shock and disgust. It’s exactly the reaction I expected, but was so hoping I wouldn’t get. And now I hope he regrets probing me. ‘I’ll leave.’ I back up, feeling filthy, humiliated, and empty once again.

Theo quickly comes to life, following my steps. ‘Stop walking, Izzy.’

‘Only if you stop looking at me like I’m dirt.’

‘Stop fucking walking.’

I stop. Theo stops. And I blink, letting a fat teardrop tumble. ‘I don’t like talking about it.’

‘Fucking hell,’ he breathes, raking a frustrated hand through his hair. ‘I’m shocked, that’s all. You’re so . . . normal.’

Normal? If only he knew. I find my eyes dropping to the carpet again, unable to look him in the eye.

‘Is that what you ran from?’ he asks.

I nod, not allowing the blanket of guilt to suffocate me. Guilt for being selective with what I tell him. For bending the truth. His face when I told him what I did to scrape some money together is the one and only reason I need to keep the rest buried. ‘I needed a fresh start.’ I fear the worst when his gaze drops to my stomach, lingering over the sight of my scars. Then he looks up at me, too many more questions in his eyes. My teeth clench, warning him to leave it there, and he studies me so very closely for a few moments, his eyes trying to strip back a few more layers of my history. I won’t let him. It’s a staring deadlock for a few minutes, both of us unmoving and unwilling to say any more.