She shook her head, and he stalked close to her, grabbing her shoulders. “You know nothing about me, Jenna. You look at me and you see the man that saved you. You see the boy you knew years ago. The boy you had a crush on.”
“You knew about that?”
“Of course, I knew. You followed me around with those puppy dog eyes for years.”
He saw those same eyes widen with pain and he hated himself for what he was doing. But he couldn’t let her go on thinking he was the good guy.
“You see me through those rose-colored glasses you said you’d lost. Well, you
’re still as naïve as ever if you think I’m right for you. If you think there will ever be any sort of relationship between us.”
“Let go of me. I get it. You don’t want me. I’m leaving.”
He let her go and stepped back, running his hand through his hair. “I don’t mean to hurt you.”
“Good job,” she said sarcastically.
“This is just an infatuation. It’s common with victims and the people who help them. But I don’t want you seeing me as your hero.”
“No worries there,” she said stiffly.
“You’ll start to feel safe again, give it time. Then you can find a man who’ll be good for you. But that guy won’t ever be me. Believe me, you couldn’t handle the needs I have. You are way too innocent and naïve to ever be someone I’d get involved with. The women I fuck know the score. And that’s all I do, fuck them. Nothing more. You’re the commitment type. You’re also completely vanilla. When I look at you I see my cousin. Not a fuck buddy.”
She snorted. “You know, all you had to say was no. I understand the word no. I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you for so long. I’ll leave now.” She turned towards the door, her shoulders stiff.
He felt like the absolute scum of the earth.
“Jenna.” What could he say? How could he make her understand?
She didn’t turn but she did pause.
“Keep Hans close, he’ll protect you. And if you ever need to talk—"
“Don’t come to you. I got it. Goodbye.”
As the door slammed, he grabbed the bottle of beer he’d been sipping from and threw it against the wall.
Well, that went fucking well. Shit.
Chapter Three
“Curt? Curt!”
Curt turned towards Hunter who frowned at him from the head of the table in the large meeting room at Black-Gray Investigations.
“Yeah?” he snarled.
Hunter’s gaze narrowed, and Curt knew he was pushing the other man’s patience. The thing was, he didn’t really give a fuck. He found it hard to care about anything right now. Five months had passed since he’d seen her. Five months since that night in his apartment when she’d kissed him—and he’d driven her away.
He’d done such a good job he hadn’t seen her since. For weeks afterwards he’d waited to bump into her in the corridor. He’d gone over how he would handle things. What he would say. He’d rehearsed every line in his head. Ways to smooth things over. How he’d make up for the harsh way he’d treated her. At the time, he’d thought it was for the best he didn’t see her. Now, five months later, he was still haunted by the wounded look on her face—hurt he’d caused.
“Are we interrupting your midmorning nap or something?” Hunter snapped. “Does someone want to go find Curt a blanket and a pillow? Maybe something to cuddle since I’m about to make him fucking cry.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Curt stood quickly, and his chair shot backwards on its wheels, slamming against the wall. Beside him, Cady jumped, and the anger in Hunter’s face grew.
“Cady, out of here. Now.”