Chapter 8

As gently as I can, I ease around him, out of the corner he’s managed to back me into and into the middle of the room. He turns to watch me, still pouting slightly. “Look,” I begin, gesturing with one hand. I don’t like the way it shakes so I pull it back, folding my arms across my chest to hide my hands away. “It’s not that, okay? It’s—”

“What is it then?” He’s not malicious or sleazy about it, not whiny or mean. When he looks at me with those impossibly blue eyes, he’s like a little kid, told he can’t have something and not sure yet why not. He’s decided he wants me and he can’t figure out why I don’t want him in return.

But I do,I amend silently, letting my gaze trail over that tan, hardened flesh. God, I do.

“Tommy,” he says, reaching out for me again. “It’s okay…”

“Just no.” I twist away from him and his hand merely brushes my sleeve in passing. “I’m not like that.”