“Why?”
“I have to check in with my coach, and my physio. I should have done it yesterday, only—,”
His hand moved sideways, to the edge of her shoulder, and her sharp intake of breath made his chest roll with feelings.
“You can’t contact them.”
Her eyes widened.
“We don’t know enough yet,” he elaborated. “What if one of them is responsible, or is linked to whomever is responsible?”
She shook her head, vehemently denying that. “There’s no way.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know. I’ve worked with them for years. They’re like family to me. It couldn’t happen.”
“At this point, it would be wise to consider everything.”
“I’m sure the police investigated them—,”
“How sure?”
She frowned. “I—obviously they didn’t tell me the ins and outs of their inquiries.” She toyed with her fingers. “But you can’t seriously think—,”
He moved closer, his body jerking in response to their nearness. “I think,” he dropped his head, so his breath glanced across her skin. “That you are safe here. Safest of all if the outside world ceases to exist, for a while.”
Her eyes held his, hooded and sensual, so that when her lips parted, he knew that she was beset by the same desire ravaging his system.
“But it does exist.” She lifted a hand to his chest, pressing it there, eyes closing for a moment so the luxuriant sweep of her lashes reminded him of velvet against silk. “They’ll be worried about me.”
Anger sparked in his gut. “Their worry has done nothing to protect you. How come they have not done more? How come they have not taken better care of you?”
She blinked, perhaps surprised by his outburst. “What would you have had them do? Move in with me? Guard my door with knives each night?”
“If that’s what it took, yes.”
“Not everyone has your…” She hesitated, and he waited, wondering what she was going to say. “Personality type.”
“Meaning?”
“You’re a control freak. And I’m glad, because I feel safe, for the first time in a long time.” Her brow furrowed. “Not just safe…I feel…” His hand came around her back, pressing there without his realization, removing the last gap that had hovered between them, connecting them.
He made a garbled noise of enquiry, wanting to understand.
“I’ve been alone for so long, and I’ve been scared for a long time. There’s been no one, no one, I could turn to. No one to help.” Her voice cracked and sympathy almost tore him in two, dwarfing his desire, for a moment. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me.” The words were gruff, drawn from the darkest recesses of his soul. “It’s not necessary.”
“Because you’re doing this for Benji,” she said slowly, nodding.
He frowned, then lifted a finger to her chin, tilting her face towards his. “I’m doing this for you.” The words flicked through the room, made more potent and important for how much they seemed to offer. He frowned. He wasn’t offering anything, beyond his protection. He couldn’t.
He opened his mouth to contradict his statement, but found the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he cupped her face with both hands, tilting it towards him. “Here, I can keep you safe.”
“I won’t hide from him forever.”
“Not forever,” he admitted quietly. “Just this week.”