Page 119 of Burning Ember

Moisture builds behind my eyes.

“Doll?”

Slowly, I blink open my eyes.

His earnest expression kills me. “I need to know. Did you feel something here?” His eyes drop down to my mouth.

A breathy “Yes” escapes from my lips.

Oh . . . sweet heaven. Tell me that wasn’t my voice.

He slides his hand around to my nape and threads his fingers gently into my hair.

“It makes me crazy to think about you with someone else, to the point I can’t think straight. When I see you with Dozer, talkin’ to him, his hands on you, you smiling at him, my whole fuckin’ body feels like it’s going to explode.” He’s quiet for a second. Then he says, “When I saw you standin’ with him tonight, I thought you’d made your choice. I thought I’d already lost my chance.”

His amber gaze roams over my face. “Have I?”

It’s hard to stay focused with his body this close to mine, his intoxicating smell all around me, his lips a few inches away, and those eyes devouring me. Damn, those eyes.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him no. But for three days, I’ve thought about this moment. I’ve thought about what I need to say to Mav before I open the door for him to come into my heart. Not that he hasn’t already—Lord knows he has—but I can’t open it any further without drawing a line about how I need to be treated going forward.

“I guess it depends.”

“On?”

“On whether or not you’re going to suddenly switch personalities on me and go back to being . . . like you were.”

His serious expression becomes more severe. “I won’t. It’s sick, but it took hurting you to snap some fuckin’ sense into me. I know now you didn’t deserve any of the shit I laid at your feet, and I swear on my life, I’m never gonna lay another hand on you.”

I place my hand on his chest and push, but he’s immoveable. He’s a rock, a leaning one that seems to be getting further and further into my space. “And I’m just supposed to believe you?”

He licks his lips and takes a deep breath. “Before, I couldn’t see past the hate riding me. Now I see what I should’ve seen that first day. You’re not her, and I have to fuckin’ change or something amazing is going to slip through my hands. If it hasn’t already.”

I try to look away but he cups my face.

“Look, I know I can’t fix this with words, Doll. It’ll take time. And even though you have every right to hate me and tell me to fuck off,”—he rubs his thumb over my jaw—“I’m beggin’ for that time. I can prove things are different. That I’m different.”

His gaze sweeps over my face. “Fuck. I was chasin’ the reaper when you walked into my office that day. I didn’t give a damn about anyone or anything, and I didn’t care if I lived another day.” He rests his forehead against mine. “But now I’m lookin’ forward to tomorrow. And not just tomorrow, but what’s gonna happen in the next ten minutes, in the next few hours, and in the next few days . . . because I hope I’ll be spendin’ that time with you.”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Please, just give me some time.”

I make him sweat it out. Not because I’m wavering, my decision was already made the minute I saw him standing on the stairs. I’m making him wait for my answer because of the hell he put me through for nearly two weeks.

“I will. But . . .”

Still cupping my face, a tentative smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“You hurt me again and I’m gone. No third chance. No excuses. You let me go and you don’t follow me.”

The muscle in his jaw ticks twice before he says, “All right.” He sweeps my bangs away from my eyes, tilts my face up, and places a slow, soft peck on my lips. “Thank you.”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“I won’t.” His lips caress mine. “And Doll, you control this. Every part of it. If you want me around, I’ll be there. If you need time or space . . . I’ll give it to you. It’s your call.” He strokes my cheekbone and his voice lowers. “If you wanna take it slow, we’ll take it slow. Just as long as we take this somewhere.”

In an instant, I’m hot all over. I’m in a daze of lust, but not enough that the word slow doesn’t trigger a collage of bad memories. Without thinking I mumble, “I’ve never had slow.”

He pulls back. Confusion covers his features and his smile flattens. His brow wrinkles as he studies me. Then something dawns on him and anger flashes through his eyes. “Fuck, babe. I didn’t mean sex. I meant this. Me and you movin’ forward.”