“I won’t hurt you,” he said brusquely, and cleared his throat. He’d done nothing to assure her otherwise. “I hate that you think I might.”
Her rounded gaze flew to his and the glint of moisture nearly undid him.
“I’m not scared of you,” she corrected, but her voice cracked halfway through. “Never of you. I...”
She swallowed and he watched the delicate muscles of her beautiful throat work. If she wasn’t scared of him, what was it? And why was it so difficult for her to articulate?
“Then, tell me,” he commanded softly, and reached out to grasp her hand in his so he could draw her forward. Almost over the threshold. She didn’t resist, but neither did she rush. “What’s going on in your mind when I do this?”
Slowly, he took her hand and placed it flat on his chest, over his thundering heart. Her touch nearly drove him to the carpet, but he locked his knees, sensing that if he could keep his wits about him, paradise might be within their reach.
Mute, she stared at her splayed hand under his. Her fingertips curled slightly as if she wanted to grip harder but couldn’t.
“It’s like granite,” she whispered. “That’s what I think about. So hard. But underneath lies something so amazing.”
“What?”
“You. Antonio.” His name fluttered from her throat on a half groan and the sound almost broke him open.
“You say that as if my name is poetry.” It was just a simple name. But one he’d sought in the reaches of his messed-up mind for so long. Hearing it on her lips... It was an elemental thrill.
He was Antonio. And yet not. Because he couldn’t fully remember all of the parts that created the whole.
“All of you is poetic,” she murmured, and drew in a ragged breath. “The way you walk, the way you hold your children. How you move in the ring. I couldn’t stop watching you and it was, um...nice.”
“You liked watching me fight?” The idea was ludicrous. But her dreamy smile spoke volumes.
“I didn’t think I would, but it was amazing.” She sighed, a breathy sound that hardened him instantly. “Watching you execute those perfect moves, your body so fluid and in such harmony. It’s like a perfect song lyric that when you hear it for the first time, it climbs inside your heart and lives there.”
His own breath came more quickly as he stared at her with dawning comprehension. “You have feelings for me.”
That was what he’d seen in her expression, what he couldn’t quite grasp. It was a wondrous, blessed revelation. As obvious all at once as the sun bursting over the horizon to announce daytime. But he had no context for how he felt. And he wanted to.
Blinking slowly, she bit her lip again and nodded. “I’ve tried not to. But I can’t help it.”
A hundred questions rocketed through his mind, but he stuck with the most important.
“Then, why?” he asked hoarsely. “Why do you run away? Why are you so scared of what’s happening?”
“I...” She glanced off and the moment of honesty, of her raw confession, started slipping away.
Desperate not to lose it, he cupped her face in both hands and brought it to his, a breath away. “What, Caitlyn? Tell me. Please. I’m losing my mind here. And I don’t have much left to lose.”
His wry joke earned him a watery smile.
“I’m scared of me,” she whispered. “I want...things. Things I barely understand. It’s like in all the fairy tales where they tell the girl not to touch the spindle or not to eat the apple. I never understood why they couldn’t help themselves. Because I never understood what it meant to truly desire something. Or someone. Until you. I don’t know what to do.”
She wanted him. And that made all the difference.
“There’s only one right answer to that.”
He leaned into the space between them and laid his lips on hers for a scant second, kissing her with only a thousandth of the passion he wished he could unleash. But didn’t because she wasn’t fully inside the room.
Once she stepped over the threshold, all bets were off.
Pulling back with an iron will that could only be developed by years of ruthless training, he evaluated her. “Do you like kissing me?”
“Yes,” she murmured. “More than I should.”
“Then, come inside. Let me kiss you. Let me give you that experience you described. Let me be the man who touches you and loves you.”
He wanted that—badly. Wanted to feel her skin next to his, to feel alive alongside her. To feel as if the things she spoke of were more than just words but concepts his soul recognized.