Up in Smoke (Crossing the Line, #2)(44)

The need to see him whole and powerful made her want to sprint out of Denny’s at full speed, but a dose of anger kept her rooted to the seat. “Who shot him? I’d like to know now-ish, please.”

Sera gave her a sympathetic look. “We don’t know. If it makes you feel better, the bullet was meant for someone else. He just got in the way.”

Rage clawed at her. This is how he feels about my stepfather being out there, walking around free. Dammit. She had no place to channel the anger. It needed somewhere to go. “Did something happen between you two?” The question shot from her mouth like a cannon. Wouldn’t be contained. She’d come to this stupid restaurant to clear her head, but it felt ready to burst now.

“You might want to lie,” Polly said to Sera.

“Nothing ever happened. Ever. He’s like a brother.” Sera shook her head. “It was always Bowen for me. He’s…”

“What?” Erin asked without looking at her.

“Bowen is my family.” Sera’s eyes filled with tears. “Excuse me. I have to go.”

Erin scooted out of the booth quickly before Sera could touch her. She and Polly watched in silence as Sera jogged down the restaurant aisle and out the door. Going to her man. It was so obvious. Exactly like Erin needed to do. She needed to see Connor. With the image of him shot still fresh in her mind, the day she’d spent away from him felt criminal. For people like them, time was precious and she was squandering it. Like a coward.

She wouldn’t be a coward anymore.

Touching might be painful for her. But the pain would prove she was real. It would prove that despite what she’d been through, she’d come out on the other side. Battle-scarred, but alive. She never felt more alive than when she was touching Connor. If she took a leap of faith, if she let him touch her, would it magnify that feeling or crush it?

Only one way to find out.

“I have to go, too.”

“Aaand I have my table back.” Polly flickered a serious glance at her. “Hey, uh…good luck.”

“Thanks.”

She would need it.





Chapter Fourteen


For what seemed like the hundredth time that hour, Connor paused in his research, swearing he heard booted footsteps coming down the hall. After a few seconds of hopeful silence, he went back to reading the web page he’d pulled up on his laptop screen and resumed scribbling notes. At first, he’d started researching Erin’s condition as a way to distract himself. If he could focus on something else, maybe he’d have a chance in hell of staying put. Not slamming out of the apartment to walk the streets shouting for her like a goddamn lunatic. At least, that’s how it had started.

About five minutes after typing “fear of being touched” into the search engine, he’d realized this was where his time could be better spent. Erin had said she would come home, and he had to trust her on that. He’d abused her trust, albeit on accident, and now he would atone. Based on what he’d learned since sitting down in front of the laptop, he had a lot of f*cking atoning to do. Yeah, his using her condition against her might have been inadvertent, but it didn’t excuse his withholding himself. She’d found a way to ease her demons and he’d yanked it away. Remembering the way he’d turned her away last night made him sick to his stomach. An empty triumph that had only succeeded in pushing her away after they’d taken two steps forward. After she’d charged straight at him and held him, only seconds having passed since he’d shattered a window with his fist.

It had felt so good, just to regain some vestige of control after losing it at the parking structure, but it hadn’t been worth it. Not even close. He doubted Erin even knew what she was dealing with. Haphephobia. The fear of being touched that often presented itself after a traumatic event. Touch from another human being often felt like fire burning the sufferer’s skin. The fact that she got pleasure from contact with his body was a rare miracle and he’d squandered it. God, if he could go back to last night, he’d let her hand wring every ounce of pleasure from his body and beg for more. He’d been a selfish motherf*cker.

So he couldn’t touch her with his hands. Yet. Would he trade the connection he had with Erin for someone who allowed his touch, but didn’t make him feel anything? No way in hell. Now he had to prove that to her. If it meant setting aside his overwhelming compulsion to pin her down and put his mark on her, if it meant putting himself through torture by going slow, he would do it. A significant factor in his thirst for control came from satisfying the woman. For the first time ever, the woman was his woman. Knowing he was the only one Erin could stand to touch might just be the most powerful piece of control he’d ever experienced. Too bad it had taken her almost walking out on him twice to figure it out. Now that he knew, his veins were pumped full of might.

Touch me, woman. If she walked in the door right now, he just might shout it at her.

But not tonight. Tonight they would talk. If a traumatic event had led to her phobia, he wanted to know every last detail, even if it might send him off on a rampage to avenge her. At least it would be out in the open. At least he would know what memories they needed to conquer. After he knew the full scope of what they were dealing with, he would take the steps to ensure her stepfather couldn’t hurt her. When Erin had run out on him this morning, he’d been restless with the urge to do something proactive to help her, but he had nothing to go on yet. So he’d settled for research. For now.