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My head whipped around, finding him staring back at me.

“Is something wrong? We don’t have to go for Italian. We can get anything you want.”

I shook my head, opening my mouth but of course, the words I wanted to say never left. I looked away, my stomach twisting over the fact that I wanted to speak to him. I wanted him to hear my voice and give it to him in return. Hugging my arms around myself, I suddenly felt exposed. I shouldn’t have worn this dress.

“I like your dress. It’s easy access to the sweetness beneath it.”

A shuddered breath left me at the memory. This was a bad idea. I couldn’t do this. Cyrus deserved someone who wasn’t so damn broken. Someone who didn’t jump at every little sound. Someone who didn’t live at a place that was locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Someone who could actually fucking speak.

“Ainsley,” Cyrus said, his voice firm. “Look at me, pet.”

I swallowed hard, wringing my hands together in my lap.

A big hand suddenly engulfed mine.

“Take a deep breath.”

I inhaled as instructed.

“Now let it out.”

I blew it out slowly.

“Again.”

We repeated it a couple more times, his words instructing my breathing pattern. It was like some lame blonde joke. Him teaching me how to breathe.

Unclasping my hands, I linked my fingers between his.

“I got you, pet,” he told me, his voice gentle.

I held his hand with both of mine, needing his rough touch. He had callouses, and I found as I ran my thumb over each of them, I wanted to know what they felt like against my naked skin.

“Are you allergic to anything?” he asked, his voice low.

Shaking my head, I stared out the window, but I couldn’t meet his gaze. I didn’t want to see the pity in his eyes or the look of concern and regret.

“Ainsley.”

I chewed my bottom lip.

Cyrus cupped my jaw, turning my head to meet his intense stare. “Whatever you are thinking, I am not going to hurt you. I’m just going to take you out for some food and that’s it. Nothing more. Understand me?”

I nodded, munching on my damn lip.

His eyes dropped to the movement, his nostrils flaring. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, leaning toward me.

The air crackled around us and just when I thought he was going to kiss me, he cleared his throat and released me instead. A sense of loss washed over me that his hand was no longer cupping my jaw but at the same time, I appreciated it just the same.

Cyrus pulled the car out of the parking lot and drove us to our location. I didn’t know where we were going. A restaurant, I presumed, but I wasn’t sure which one.

Much to my surprise, we ended up at the same deli the first time Cyrus kissed me. I looked up at him then, wondering what he was thinking and why we were there when he had asked me if I liked Italian in the first place.

He caught my gaze, giving me a wink. “This place is actually slow at this time, even though it’s a Friday night. They also have the best milkshakes in the area and a friend of Piper’s makes the yummiest cherry pie.”

My mouth watered at the thought.

“Does that sound okay with you?” he asked, running his thumb along the side of my hand.