I leaned over him again, ready to turn the light back on. But before I reached it, his hand—the one not currently tracking the beats of my heart—cupped my face.
I froze as he tucked a wayward curl behind my ear. He leaned toward me; my heart accelerated, pumping heat through my veins. He got so close I felt his breath against my cheek.
“Where did you come from, sweet girl?” he whispered in my ear, his words warm against my skin. “You absolutely stun me.”
I turned to look at him, eyes wide, but he didn’t pull away. The slightest turning of my head brought our mouths so close together I almost tasted him.
The hairs on my skin raised as fire ignited inside me, sending waves of tingles down my body. My heart pumped so fast I could hardly breathe. Atlas’s eyes flicked down toward my lips. Any tiny movement, and our mouths would touch.
Oh God.
Fear shot down my spine, dousing the fire in sudden ice water. My body wanted Atlas, my lips were aching to touch his, but that didn’t mean I was ready for that. I wasn’t supposed to be kissing people. I was supposed to be healing. I was supposed to be finding myself, not losing myself in another man.
I pulled back so fast, I almost fell off the couch. Atlas’s hands shot out, gripping my waist to steady me as I reached to turn the light on, almost knocking the lamp over in my haste.
Atlas released me and caught the lamp before it hit the floor. I scooted to the other side of the couch, as far away from him as possible. I was panting, my mind a frantic mess of thoughts and emotions I couldn’t wade through.
Especially not when Atlas looked over at me, his face pinched with concern.
“Is everything all right?”
I nodded vigorously. “Yes.” I sounded out of breath. I guess I was. It felt as if he had stolen all my breaths.
I stood up on wobbly legs. “I should really get going. I’m exhausted.” I turned without waiting for Atlas’s reply and almost ran from the house, back to the safety of my own space, where I could lock the door and pretend nothing had happened.
The only problem was, I wasn’t good at pretending. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t forget the feel of his hands on mine. As if his touch was burned into my flesh.
Atlas was dangerous. I’d known it from the first time I met him. I couldn’t help thinking I was playing with fire. And I didn’t know if I was ready to get burned.