“Oh, so now I’ve slept with Honor?” An amused smile lifted his lips. “Very judgy of you.”“I’m sure you have a hundred other women going through your revolving bedroom door, and I don’t intend to be one of them.” That wiped the amusement off his face and replaced it with a look she wanted to run from. His eyes bored into her, silently sending a message of disbelief and honesty she was afraid to trust. Because guys lied. He tightened his grip again. A needy whimper escaped, and she clamped her mouth shut. Despite her hesitation, she wanted to kiss him so badly she could taste him, could feel his tongue sliding over hers and the press of those full, soft lips. This was crazy, standing so close to him, but she didn’t want to walk away. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been as acutely aware of every point where her body touched a man, or every breath another person took. He wasn’t running. He wasn’t deflecting. He was fully present, and she found that so compelling it frightened her. He reached up and touched her cheek, still holding her tight with one arm. “What are you afraid of?” He asked it in such a gentle, caring voice, had she not seen him speak, she wouldn’t have believed it came from him. Her answer came without thought. “You.”
