Perfectly Imperfect(18)
“Allow me.” My voice is thick with desire. Desire for a woman whose face I haven’t even seen in years. I clear my throat and wait for Randy to move so I can help her … help Willow.
“It’s all right, Mr. Masters. I have it. Won’t take but a second, right, Willow?” he states before bending once again to offer his assistance. Assistance I don’t want him to give her. I should be the one to help her. It should be my hands to touch her. No one else. Fucking hell, what is going on with me? I feel like I’m seconds away from beating my chest and pissing on the floor. I don’t even know if this is the same woman. Yet I’m acting like an animal just at the memory of what I felt only once before when I was sucker punched with just a gaze from across the room. Surely, this isn’t her. I just need a vacation. To slow down. Right?
Thinking quickly, I take a small step forward and stop Randy before his hands can touch her. “That might be, Rand, but it looks like you’re needed elsewhere.” I lift my hand, mentally making sure my fists are relaxed, and point over to a very vocal Stacy while she continues to huff in annoyance. I’m sure it’s because she’s not the center of attention. Randy nods once and moves away. I wait for a beat before bending down and balancing my weight on the balls of my feet before offering my hand to her.
That’s when I finally see her face.
She’s stunning. She possesses the kind of beauty that even her demeanor tense in pain and panic can’t hide. Her eyes widen when she looks into mine and I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile. Clearly, I need to work on my acting skills because I watch as her face heats and a light blush covers her neck and face.
Exquisite.
Just like she was the first time I saw her briefly, years before. She was there one second, lighting my skin on fire with one look into those brown eyes, and then she was gone. I had thought I imagined it, even after I asked about her, but seeing those eyes up close—yeah, I didn’t imagine shit. That connection I had been hunting was indeed right in front of my face. I let her slip away with excuses of too many drinks and a long dry spell. Not this time.
“I … please … I’m so sorry,” she mutters meekly. “Please, don’t worry about me … oh, God.”
“Willow, was it?” I ask, feigning the ignorance I should have at a ‘first meeting.’ Unable to resist any longer, I slide my hands under her arms and I help her stand. My body hums with arousal when her scent hits me. Peaches. Fuck, she smells like peaches? I bet she tastes like them too. Mentally slapping my undersexed mind, I look into her eyes, imploring. “Are you okay?” She doesn’t speak. Her eyes just continue to roam over my face, drinking me in as hard as I am to her. Shit, maybe she hit her head when she fell. “Do you need medical assistance?”
“I—I’m—crap, I’m okay. Only what was left of my pride was damaged.” She ducks her head, and I hate that I’ve lost her eyes. She moves to a crouch to start collecting her personal belongings, hurriedly cramming them into her broken bag.
“Kane, if you would follow me, I can take you back to Steven’s office while he’s busy,” Stacy purrs from where she’s now standing next to us. Her hands propped on her trim hips don’t hide the clear annoyance on her face. Can she not f*cking see the woman struggling right under her nose? What a bitch.
“Are you okay, Willow?” I try again desperate to see those brown eyes again. I’m at a loss as to how to help her—how to protect her. This feeling of not being able to control the situation is doing nothing but amping up the adrenaline-fueled desire pumping through my system.
Her eyes move back up to mine. Is she shocked I’m still here? Or shocked that I care?
“I’m … I’ll—thank you for asking, but I’ll be fine.” Her words are reassuring, but her eyes show me how close she is to breaking.
With the need to protect her riding me, I attempt again to get her to allow me to help. “Right. I’ve no doubt about that, Willow. But it would ease my mind if you would at least allow me to offer some assistance.”
“That’s okay, Mr. Masters. I’m sure you have more important things to do. Thank you, though.”
She couldn’t be further from the truth. “Nothing that can’t wait for me to help a beautiful woman out,” I reply, trying to lighten the mood, but the second the words leave my mouth, I realize how gravely I miscalculated this beauty before me. She snaps her head back at my words, and before I can reach her, she cracks her head against the wood table she had been crouched in front of while collecting her belongings. “Shit,” I say under my breath pissed at myself for jumping her like an overeager hunter, spooking the doe-eyed fawn before I could even get close enough.
My body moves on autopilot, and before I know what I’m doing, the protective instincts she incites roar higher to a life of their own. My fingers thread into her thick hair, and I rub the spot she knocked with my fingertips. Her eyes dilate, and I know I’m not the only one who feels this connection between us.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. Please …” I watch her eyes shimmer, and I curse myself again when the feeling of failure hits me.
Not wanting to be the reason for her tears, I release my hold with a deep exhale. Losing the link to her warm skin has me clenching my hands again. Looking for something to keep busy so I don’t scare her again, I move to help gather the rest of her stuff, placing them slowly back into her bag. When the last pen is dropped inside, she grabs it and slams the bag against her chest.