His jaw ticks as his eyes search mine. “Do you?” he asks, bringing a hand up to cup my cheek. The rough skin of his hand is scratchy against mine, but his touch is soft, gentle, and I want to melt into it. “Because, from what I overheard, you told him you were leaving. That you were done.”
My eyes widen with humiliation as I realize just how long he was outside. If he heard that part, then he must’ve witnessed the whole mortifying scene. Adrian’s reaction to my wanting to leave was bad enough. Knowing that this man, this sexy stranger, witnessed it and his subsequent debasement is unbearable. I want to crawl into a hole and never come out.
“Oh my God,” I breathe out, tearing my gaze from his, ashamed that this man witnessed one of the most demeaning moments of my life.
“Look at me,” he beckons, his voice soft.
I don’t want to meet his eyes, but for some reason, I respond to his request immediately. I expect to see judgment, yet there is none. Instead, his eyes are soft and full of understanding. As if he gets it. But how could he?
“You have nothing to be ashamed of. You are far too beautiful to waste your time on tears. I heard you. You were ready to leave him, yet here you still are. Why is that?”
“I . . .” I briefly close my eyes and suck in a deep breath before looking back at him. He already knows the answer to that question. “I have nowhere else to go. If you actually did hear everything, you know why I’m here. Why I can’t leave.”
My heart begins to race as his gaze lowers to my lips. For a split second, I think he’s going to kiss me. And strangely enough, I find myself wanting just that. Disappointment washes over me when, instead, he takes a step back.
“If you honestly believe that, then I can’t help you.”
What? “Help me? I didn’t ask for your help,” I remind him, not sure where he’s going with this. “I also didn’t ask for you to come in here, get all close to me, and then act like you’re going to kiss me. As I said, I have a boyfriend.”
This back-and-forth is giving me whiplash. I firmly told Adrian that I was leaving, and I still plan to do just that. But Matthews came in unexpectedly and came on so strong that I said the first thing I could think of. I have a boyfriend. Yet all I want to do is refute that very claim. After what happened this morning, the last thing I need is to form an attraction to someone else. And still, as I watch him watch me, there’s a magnetism there that’s drawing me to him.
“No, you didn’t ask for my help, but when you’re ready for it, I’ll give it. And you’re wrong, Gabriella,” he says, his tone mocking, with a sense of ownership, much like Adrian’s. “You don’t have a boyfriend. You have an owner.”
He turns on his heel and starts to walk away before stopping in his tracks. Just as I’m about to call him every name in the book, he whirls around and crosses the kitchen in three long strides. As soon as he’s in front of me, he nudges my legs apart and stands between them.
I should fight this. I should push him away. But the truth is I want to feel wanted, if only for a moment. And right now, I believe he wants me.
A firm hand curves to the small of my back as he pulls me to the edge of the counter and holds me in place. My breath catches as I watch him. I stand stock-still, awaiting his next move. His head lowers, his lips coming dangerously close to mine, but he doesn’t kiss me. He just stares, unmoving, and I shiver as his eyes bore into mine and I finally see his face. Up close, the dark stubble looks rough and inviting, but it’s his eyes that draw me in. Soft and kind, they’re the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, and they’re swirling with a dark intensity that unnerves me.
“You have the most expressive eyes I’ve ever seen,” he whispers, catching me off guard because I was just thinking the same about him. “So big and beautiful, yet full of sadness and pain. Why is that? Why do you allow him to cause you pain? You take care of everything he needs and wants, but who takes care of you?”
“He—” I stammer, stopping when he merely shakes his head, both of us knowing that no argument I make would ever be close to the truth. No one takes care of me. Hanging my head, I realize I can’t even take care of myself. If I could, I wouldn’t be in this mess. I wouldn’t be here, stepping right back into someone else’s web.
Perhaps that’s it. It’s someone else’s and not Adrian’s. It’s the first step of getting away from him, even if it lands me in a world of trouble.
“I’m not talking money, Brie,” he says, his soft tone causing me to look up at him. “He could give you all the money in the world and he’ll still never take care of you the way you’re meant to be cared for. The way a real man should care for his woman. Don’t you deserve that?”
I swallow hard as tears prick my eyes and spill out onto my cheeks. He’s right. The Adrian who once cared for me is gone—if he ever actually existed. And no matter how hard I try to think so, material possessions will never be enough. It’s why I have to get out now—and quickly. His thumb wipes my tears away as he leans in, his lips hovering just above mine.
“Yes,” I whisper, wondering—hoping—that maybe, just maybe, he could care for me that way, if only for a short while. This stranger who’s entranced me, who makes me want . . . something. Anything. Hell, maybe a rebound is exactly what I need, and he seems to be a more than willing partner. After all, he did offer help.
“I do deserve that.”
His lips curve up into a slight smile before his gaze darkens. His eyes search my face for some hidden answer, yet I still don’t know the question. As if he’s reading my mind, his eyes drop to my lips before raising to meet mine again.