Mine to Have (Mine #5)(22)

She was certainly getting the vibe that he was an any-means-necessary kind of guy. Strong. Dangerous.

So beyond my normal life.

But then, this whole experience had been surreal to her.

Elizabeth forced a smile to her lips. “See?” Her voice sounded a little too high even to her own ears. “I was right about you. You’re the good guy. The hero.”

His gaze swept over her. That dark stare heated. Oh, crap. She was still just wearing his shirt. She’d actually stripped off everything beneath the shirt, too. And as he stared at her, as that dark gaze of his seemed to devour her, Elizabeth was suddenly far too aware of the fact that her breasts had tightened into taut peaks. Her nipples pushed against the fabric.

He walked toward her. Moving with the same slow grace that a lion probably used right before he attacked his prey.

Elizabeth wanted to retreat from him, but she didn’t. She didn’t move at all.

“You want to hear another truth?”

Probably not but… “Yes.”

“I wanted that hour with you. I still want it.”

It seemed as if every bit of moisture dried up in her mouth right then. His voice had done that thing where it deepened even more, turning into a hard growl of sound, and her knees wanted to do a little jiggle because that growl—yes, it was hot.

“One hour…” Saxon murmured. “How many times do you think I could make you come in one hour?”

Let’s please find out. No, that thought had not just run through her head. But…when he kissed her—Bam.

Her cheeks didn’t just flush—they seemed to be scorching hot. “You shouldn’t say things like—like that to me.”

“Why not?”

She didn’t know. Her thighs squeezed together. “I want to go home.”

“What’s waiting at home that’s so great?”

Her gaze fell from his. Nothing. Both of her parents were dead now. So there was no mother who’d fret if she didn’t get a phone call from Elizabeth. No father who’d come by to check and make sure she had everything she needed at her condo.

Actually, she had no other family at all. There was no one waiting with baited breath for her to return. Just an empty apartment. She didn’t even have pets—they weren’t allowed in her building.

“Sweetheart?’ he pressed. “What’s so great at home? What are you missing?”

She didn’t want to talk to him about her life. Because talking about her life made it seem even emptier.

Elizabeth started to turn away from Saxon, but he caught her wrist, stopping her. “Truth,” he pointed out. “It’s what you wanted.”

She’d wanted to hear this truths, not share the jagged shards of her past with him. So Elizabeth lifted up her chin. “I don’t have anyone waiting for me.”

A faint furrow appeared between his brows.

“My parents passed away two years ago. They were killed in a car accident.” Because, once, she had gotten frequent calls from her mother. Calls that had made her smile. Calls that had made her frown. Calls that had made her know that her mother was always thinking about her. Always there. And her father had popped by her place—to make sure her locks were working. To check the faulty wiring. To eat lasagna with her late at night.

“I’m sorry.”

So was she. “My mother was a lawyer and my dad owned an accounting business. They were having dinner, going home one night and—well, they never made it.” She had originally planned to be at that dinner with them, but a last minute stomach bug had kept her home. “They were on a secluded road when their car crashed. Their…their bodies weren’t found until the next morning.” She’d had to go in and identify them. No, that can’t be my parents. They…they shouldn’t look like that.

“It’s harder when they love you.”

Now it was her turn to frown.

“Because then when you lose them, it’s like someone cut into your chest. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.” His hand lifted, and those scarred knuckles of his brushed over her cheek. “My dad cut out on me when I was five, and my mom couldn’t wait to kick me out. I lived on the streets for too long after that, and by the time I finally heard that my mom had overdosed, I don’t think I felt anything but numbness.”

He was alone, too.

“But you knew that your parents loved you,” Saxon said. “That matters. You have to always hold on to that.”

A tear leaked from her eye. He caught it—on those scarred knuckles.

“Knowing that should make the memories easier.” Now his hand slid down and pressed right over her heart. “And I think in time, it should make you feel, I don’t know…stronger. Better.”

Her own hand rose and curled around his. “Thank you.”

“Getting easier to say that to me, huh?”

She shook her head. “I don’t…I don’t quite understand you.” There were so many layers to Saxon. Elizabeth had the feeling that she might never fully understand him. Talk about a man of mystery.

“That’s fair. I don’t understand you, either.”

And she realized she was holding his hand to her chest. She was still just wearing his shirt, and the bed was a few feet away.