“No, Victoria, thank you,” he said, fighting a groan. “I do not wish to lie down on your bed.”
Because if he did, he had a horrific feeling that in a moment he would be beckoning her to lie down beside him and then, good God, his vow would be over.
How the hell had she done it to him?
It was her assurance. Her blunt view of the world. And her passion for her dreams. They had seduced him. Even now, just her simple kindness was working upon him.
He plunked the poker back, whipped toward the door, ready to run—
No. Was he really so weak?
Was he so weak that he had to run away from her so soon?
Surely, he was made of stronger stuff than this.
And so, Chase made up his mind to stay, if only to prove to himself that he could.