“I—” I started to argue, but then cut myself off. Because, really, wasn’t this exactly what I wanted? It wasn’t about going dancing, it was about losing control. Hell, it was about relinquishing control.
I closed my eyes, imagining the moment we walked into the apartment. He wouldn’t even shut the door before he’d have me up against the wall, my hands above my head, his body hard against mine. I’d close my eyes, letting the sensations roll over me as he gripped my wrists with one hand, his other hand hard upon my breast. I’d arch into his touch, but not much. He had me trapped there, able to take only what he was willing to give. Lost in sensation, floating away in the decadent arms of surrender until I opened my eyes, so desperate to see the heat reflected back at me that I had no choice.
And when I did, it wasn’t Kevin’s face that I saw—it was Evan’s.
I gasped, my eyes flying open for real this time, and I saw Kevin peering at me, concern cutting across those perfect features.
“Angie? Hey, are you okay?”
I nodded. “Tired. Just tired.”
“All the more reason to go inside.”
Again, I nodded. I didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to think. Guilt and grief were screwing with my head, and I wasn’t at all sure what to do about it.
We took the elevator from the parking level to his eighth floor studio, and as we stepped through the door, I realized I was holding my breath—but whether that was because I was craving or dreading his touch, I really didn’t know.
It didn’t matter though, because all he did was turn around and shut the door. “How does a cup of hot tea sound?” he asked, after he’d locked both dead bolts and put on the chain.
It sounded horrible, but I nodded anyway. Tea sounded soothing. It sounded calm. But I didn’t want calm. I wanted hands on my body. I wanted electricity. I wanted to be consumed in a lightning storm, destroyed by passion. I wanted to get lost in pleasure so intense it burned away everything until I was a blank slate, the horror of the last few days all but forgotten.
But this—I didn’t want this.
More, I didn’t want Kevin.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Don’t be silly. It’s no trouble.” He started to turn toward the tiny kitchen, but must have seen something in my eyes, because he stopped. “Angie?”
Would everything have changed if he’d kissed me right then? If I’d seen fire brimming in his eyes, would I have stayed? Would I have lost myself in his touch, gotten high on the drug of sex? Would I have let him take me where I wanted to go—and would I have stayed there with him?
I don’t know. I don’t think so. I didn’t doubt that Kevin was a good man, but he wasn’t the man I wanted, and I deserved more than the runner-up. So, for that matter, did Kevin.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I shouldn’t have come here tonight. I shouldn’t have—” I shook my head, as if shaking off the thread of my words. “I am a wreck tonight. But I really just want to be alone.”
“No.” My words spurred him to action, and he reached out, his hand closing around my wrist. “You’re distraught, I get that. Stay. I’ll take care of you.”
I shivered, because that’s what I wanted. For someone to take care of me so that I really could slip away and lose myself in that ultimate thrill of surrender. But not with tea and cookies and a warm bubble bath. That was never going to take my edge off.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” I promised, already moving away, trying to avoid the walls that were squeezing in around me. “Right now, I have to go.”
I was tugging open the front door locks when he gripped my elbow. “I’m not letting you go back there. Not tonight. Not when you’re like this. Grief messes with people, honey. I see it all the time.”
“I’m just going to crash,” I lied. “I want to sleep in my own bed. And this isn’t your decision,” I added when he looked ready to argue. “I know you want to help, but I need the space.”
He just stood there, his fingers digging into my bare arm, exposed in the sleeveless black sheath I still wore.