More Than Anything (Broken Pieces #1)(31)

Soft.

It brought back so many terrible memories. She shouldn’t allow this. Shouldn’t be duped by him again. But when his hands stroked down the length of her arms, to her wrists, and then down to her hands, where his fingers entwined with hers, she was completely powerless to resist him. She craved his touch more than she had ever imagined possible.

His eyes still held hers captive, and she swallowed painfully.

“Why were you crying?” he asked on a whisper, and she shook her head as her eyes flooded again.

“It’s been a stressful twenty-four hours. B-business hasn’t been ideal . . .”

She was stuttering on the half truth when one of his hands released her fingers to palm the side of her neck, his large thumb stroking the sensitive underside of her jaw. She made a soft sound, somewhere between a mewl and a groan. His front was pressed fully to her back by now, and she could feel the unmistakable swell of his arousal in the small of her back. It was shocking and intimate and completely surreal.

“I’m sorry,” he said, directly into her ear, his hot breath fanning against the temple.

“You shouldn’t be touching me,” she said, her voice lacking resolve.

“I like touching you,” he replied, and she shuddered.

“Let me go,” she said, her words a weak command. He immediately complied, leaving her feeling inexplicably bereft. He stepped away from her, and she felt distinctly wobbly without the warmth and support of his big, hard body.

She dropped her palms to the countertop in an effort to brace herself and lifted her eyes to meet his in the mirror. His pupils were dilated, he had a bright flush riding the crest of his sharp cheekbones, and his fists were clenched at his sides. He looked none too steady himself.

“I don’t like seeing you cry.” Tina nearly laughed out loud at his words. Ironic, when she had shed so many past tears because of him. “Would you let me help you? With the business, I mean.”

Every atom in Tina’s body rejected that idea, and she was shaking her head vehemently before he’d even completed the question.

“I don’t want your help,” she said, and his face tightened in annoyance.

“Why not?”

“Because this is my responsibility, and if this place succeeds after I accepted help from you, everybody would assume it was because of your involvement. It wouldn’t ever be my success.”

“That’s ridiculous.” But his denial sounded unconvincing, and she knew he could see the truth in her words.

“Nobody believes I can do this, Harris.”

“Libby does. I do.”

The latter part of his statement stunned her, and she turned around to search his eyes for any hint of deceit . . . but he held her gaze, the belief he’d just spoken of shining in his eyes like a beacon.

“Why?” she asked bluntly. “I’ve been a total fuckup for most of my life. Not even I believe that I can do this. So why would you?”

“You haven’t been a fuckup.”

She made an impatient scoffing sound and dropped her eyes down his body to the erection still straining at his zipper.

“Are you saying these things because you want to get into my pants? And what the hell is up with that, anyway? Haven’t you gotten that fat-girl fetish out of your system yet?”

He glared at her, the tenderness that had been shining in his eyes just moments before replaced by brittle defensiveness. “You know I think you’re gorgeous, so don’t give me that bullshit,” he said, his voice low and rough.

She raised her eyebrows. Gorgeous was it? “I’m sorry, but my self-esteem took a bruising ten years ago when you and your asshole buddies made the sick bet that you wouldn’t be able to . . . what was it? Oh yes, ‘fuck the fat freak,’ right?”

He winced.

“Damn it, Tina. I’ve apologized for that. You accepted my apology.”

“You hurt me, you asshole. You did more damage than you could ever comprehend. I want to forgive you. I want to forget about it because I can’t keep looking back on that as the defining moment of my life. The moment that ruined my entire future.”

“I know you were young and that what I did, what was said, hurt you. And I’ve hated myself for it . . . but I do think you’re being overdramatic, Tina. It was a stupid mistake, and I know it must have stung for a long time, but it shouldn’t have, couldn’t have, defined your life. You can’t blame me for every fucking bad decision you’ve made since then. You have to take ownership for some of it.”

She stared at him, her eyes burning with unshed tears as she recalled that night, then the days and months that followed it, and the terrible years after that. Her inability to pick herself up after the consequences of that moment had ruined her life and turned her into an anxiety-riddled wreck of a woman. She’d had ambitions—her ultimate goal, before Harris had so casually ripped out her heart and destroyed her future, had been to become an obstetrician. Now she could barely look at babies, much less deliver them.

“I take ownership of the fact that I stupidly thought my crush on you was something more than that and that I allowed myself to be seduced by you, but—”

She was interrupted when the door to the ladies’ room swung inward and a couple of giggling teenagers strolled in. They both stopped dead at the sight of Harris, and one of them squealed in horror.