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The oxygen stalled in her throat and she dashed her hands up, trying to wipe away the evidence of her sorrow.

He studied her silently, his brows coming together in a grimace as he undoubtedly saw the tears on her face that she hadn't been able to contain. Standing completely still, Courtney bit her lip and then tried for a smile. It came out rather shaky, and she knew she'd failed miserably. Embarrassed, her gaze left his, as she looked down at the floor, oblivious to his eyes sweeping down her body and then up again.

As she continued to stare at the carpet, his voice came out gruffly, "You all right?"

At the unexpected sympathy she heard in his voice, she closed her eyes in despair and was unable to keep her face from crumpling. As the tears rolled down her cheeks, she answered his question by shaking her head, but then appalled that she was being a burden, she changed direction, nodding her head instead.

He let out a rough laugh that held no humor and even with her eyes closed, she knew he came to stand directly in front of her. He tipped her chin up with a single gentle finger and her eyes flew open to stare into his. His thumb caressed her cheekbone and she was hit with a strange feeling in her stomach that she'd never felt before . . . but there was little doubt in her mind that it had something to do with his overt masculinity. "It's rough, isn't it?" he asked in a gravelly voice.

She nodded her head as the tears continued to run silently down her cheeks.

With one hand cradling her jaw, his other came up and almost absently, he picked up a tress of her blonde hair. "You have every right to cry, sweetheart. Every right in the world," he said more softly. His thumb continued to stroke her cheek in a gentle, soothing action as her eyes held his. "I understand what you're going through . . . at least, somewhat."

She listened in silence, letting his tender touch and soothing, warm words flow through her and comfort her.

"Losing my dad was bad," he said, letting out a tortured breath of air. "But I was older than you, and it was only the one parent." His lips flattened sadly and Courtney clung to his warm, brown eyes as he continued, "I've tried to imagine what it must be like to be in your shoes, but honestly, I can't." The words were compassionate, warm, and they soothed her as well as sent a raw shiver down her spine. Mostly, they made her remember what she'd lost and a fresh batch of tears spilled over.

Her eyes closed again but he tipped her chin up in a bid for her to look at him. And she did; she opened her lids and stared into his dark, impassioned eyes as he began to speak again. "You're strong, sweetheart. I've never met anyone stronger. When I think about what you endured--" He took a breath. "Being thrown into this household, knowing we were still in our own kind of shock . . . making sure you never asked for help . . . never expecting or needing attention. Don't think I haven't noticed the strength and maturity that took. Losing both of your parents at seventeen, being ripped away from your home and your friends--"

Sharp misery pierced her at the reminders. "Stop," she choked out and then looked back down in both anguish and embarrassment.

"Fuck--"

At the harsh expletive, her eyes flew back to his in shock, the word and the tone so out of sync with the way he'd behaved during the last few moments.

There was a look of bitter recrimination on his features. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm trying to make it better, but I--"

Abruptly, Courtney reached up and put her fingers to his lips, pressing lightly against them to stop the flow of words. He owed her no apology.

His eyes sharpened and then narrowed. He hissed in a hot breath that she felt through her fingertips. The hand on her cheek tightened while his fingers in her hair grasped her more firmly as she felt the pull on her scalp.

His lips felt warm and firm against her touch and startled at the intimacy, she sucked in a breath. At her reaction, he stilled completely and Courtney felt a tension overtake his muscles, as they seemed to stiffen.

Not quite believing she'd had the audacity to touch his lips, she snatched her hand away in horror and hid it behind her back, unconsciously balling her fingers, not wanting to let his warmth slip away.

Wiping away her tears with her other hand, she looked down again and waited for him to speak.

She was aware that he was breathing deeply, almost as if winded, but after a moment, he seemed to calm down.


Tags: Lynda Chance The House of Rule Billionaire Romance