Up in Smoke (Crossing the Line, #2)(19)

Her pulse hammered out of control. “You touching me?”

Connor watched her closely. “When you’re ready. Not before. Never before.”

This is where she should climb down the fire escape and vamoose toward the street. A weight pressed down on her rib cage, making it difficult to draw a breath. It felt like the point of no return. But Connor’s eyes grounded her.

Safe. He’s safe.

“Okay, baby. Slow.”

His body drained of tension. “Thank you.” He leaned in and brushed their lips together, gently, reverently. “First, we talk.”





Chapter Seven


Yes, because you’re such an accomplished talker. Asshole.

Didn’t matter. He’d talk a blue f*cking streak as long as she didn’t leave. Back in the kitchen, he hadn’t kept himself in check and she’d picked up her suitcase. Actually picked it up. Ready to leave for God knows where all because he’d felt the stupid need to enlighten her on his permanently aroused state. Until that moment, it hadn’t fully registered exactly how badly he needed her close. None of it made a bit of sense, either. Not the edginess he felt when she wasn’t in his sight line. Not the decision to sacrifice his sanity just to keep her safe. Keeping her with him was all that mattered. Keep, keep, keep.

He hadn’t planned on asking her to trust him. To allow him to help her overcome her fears, at least where he was concerned. But he’d had to be honest with himself. His appetite wouldn’t allow him to remain in purgatory indefinitely, so he’d taken a risky leap. As the words left his mouth, he’d been only remotely aware of what he was doing, but now the dust had settled. He’d formed a relationship with her. One he could very easily f*ck up. And it scared the shit out of him.

There wouldn’t be any room to remain detached here. He relied on detachment. It had saved him in the SEALs, not only on missions, but when they’d turned their backs on him and severed all ties. Detachment had gotten him through two years delivering messages of a physical nature while working under his cousin. He should have seen this coming, really. No amount of willpower could make him disengage around Erin. She’d woken up something inside him yesterday. He didn’t have a name for it yet, but it needed to be fed. Soothed. Unfortunately, she was the one agitating it at the same time.

Connor almost groaned out loud when Erin set her suitcase back down, awarding him with a glimpse down her shirt. Perky handfuls. He’d f*cking known it. Purgatory? Nah, he’d definitely crossed the line into hell.

Don’t go there, man. You want to keep her? You want to help? Do it the right way.

She cocked a hip, looking suspicious. “What do you want to talk about?”

He lowered himself onto the couch and nodded toward the other end. “Sit?”

“Hmm.” She hopped onto the couch’s arm and crossed her legs, making her look like some kind of punk-rock fairy. The view of her thighs did exactly zero to help his situation. “Just know that if this starts to feel like a psychiatrist appointment, I’ve clocked all the available exits.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

She draped herself over the cushions. “Are you going to show me inkblots? Spoiler alert. I see fire. Lots of it.”

“Why?”

“It erases things. Both good and bad. It’s reliably destructive.” She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Like me,” she whispered.

He knew her game. Saw right through it. The crazy girl act she performed to a T. While he knew it wasn’t entirely a game, he knew it was her way of deflecting. Sort of like his savior, detachment, only in a different form. “Erin, this is important so I need you to answer me seriously.” He felt a familiar anger settle in his gut. “You said someone is trying to trap you. I need to know who it is.”

“Why?” She fidgeted with her hair. “I told you not to ask me about it anymore.”

“If I don’t know, I can’t keep you safe.”

“I keep myself safe.”

Connor held on to his patience. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because if I tell you, it makes him real,” she burst out. “I’m just dandy pretending he’s not.”

“He.” Connor’s hands curled into fists. “An ex-boyfriend?” God help the pitiful f*cker.

“I don’t do boyfriends.”

He ignored the sweeping relief because it was pointless. The threat still existed, even if it wasn’t a man she’d been with romantically. “Well, you have one now and he wants to protect you.”

Erin tilted her head. “You’re my boyfriend?” She straightened. “Can we get matching Segways?”

God, how could she make him want to laugh and shout at the same time? Deep breath. If he wanted her to confide in him, he might have to give her a reason. It was nice knowing you, detachment. “You have to be near a window, right? You need to know how fast an escape you can make.”

She propped her chin on a bent wrist. “Go on.”

“Windows make me nervous. I don’t like weak spots. Don’t like people looking in at what’s mine.” He shifted on the couch. “If it’s too early to call you mine, that can’t be helped. It’s a feeling, not a mark on a timeline.” Dammit, he couldn’t read her expression. She looked almost puzzled. “I understand why you need the windows, Erin. But I’m asking for curtains. I need to know someone isn’t going to see you through the window and pull you out. Away from me.”