“Was your situation similar?” she pressed.
Yes. No. “You want to know my childhood story so you can figure me out, Doc? Are you really a nurse or a shrink?” He forced a laugh. When he glanced up, she wasn’t smiling.
“How do you ever expect to get to know someone if you always hide behind that mask of humor?”
His breath stalled. She’d scared the shit out of him. He slipped into the role that came so easily. His voice dropped lower as he gave her a look that usually worked on women. “Oh, I could think of a few creative ways to get to know you.”
She shook her head, disappointedly. For some reason the idea of letting her down made his stomach sink like a rock. But the look that flashed in her eyes grated across his skin. Pity.
“I’m sorry.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked defensively.
“If you can’t be vulnerable with someone, how do you ever expect to share a lifetime?”
“Isn’t that kind of like the pot calling the kettle black?” he snapped.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I already admitted my faults. This is me being open with you, sharing about my past. I haven’t had many friends before, but isn’t this what friends do—share?”
He swiped a hand through his hair and sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not the marrying kind.”
“What makes you say that?”
He needed to get her off his back. To stop asking him questions he didn’t want to answer. The woman had an uncanny ability to push his buttons and find the weak spots in his defenses. Bently had to push her away, keep her at arm’s length. “I’m the playboy of Shattered Cove, or haven’t you heard?”
She shook her head, disappointed with his answer again.
“Why does this matter to you anyway?” he asked.
“Because no matter how many times you say you’re my friend, the way you look at me says different.”
He leaned in, his eyes locked on hers in this battle of wills. “And what exactly do my eyes tell you?”
She moved closer so that their faces were only a few inches apart. Her sweet breath whispered across his lips. “That you want to strip me down. See me like so few men have.”
His jaw clenched at the thought of another man touching her.
“You want my body, and I’ll admit . . . I want you too.”
He swallowed, hope and lust swirling inside. Yes. He needed to have her and get this out of his system. This woman was driving him mad with desire. Spinning him so out of control, he gripped her face just to ground himself. That was the wrong thing to do. Her soft skin against his rough palms was gasoline onto the burning chaos raging inside him. Her breath quickened, lust and want darkening in those brown-sugar eyes. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her.
“Bently.”
His name on her lips was his breaking point. He leaned in, swiping his lips across hers softly, gently at first. Energy crackled, want obscured his vision as he kissed her like he’d never kissed before. Overpowering and staggering. Roaring need lit him up, his body glowing red hot from the inside out. Fireworks and explosions rocked through his body as she moaned. He cursed the wooden table between them as he pulled her face closer, tasting the seam of her lush lips with his tongue. Lust blanketed him as he tore his mouth away, searching for a hidden alcove. He needed this woman right the fuck now. If kissing her was this beautifully devastating, being inside her was imperative.
She looked up at him, dazed and glassy-eyed as if lost in the smoky fog of lust herself. He shot to his feet and tugged her hand. Belle resisted.
“No.” She shook her head. “I can’t do this, Bently. We can’t . . .” The fear flashing in her eyes poured over him like a bucket of ice water.
Shit. He’d moved too fast. “I’m sorry. I thought you wanted . . .”
“I did.”
A rush of relief washed over him.
“But that’s the problem,” she said.
“I don’t follow. If you want me and I want you, then what’s the issue?” he asked, confused.
She licked her lips, no doubt tasting the traces of him. “You’ve made it clear you’re not a relationship type of guy. But I can’t separate feelings from sex.” Her voice trembled. She wiped at her eyes before the tear that had welled there could fall.
What have I done? He ran a hand over his rough stubble. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t plan on trying to . . . I . . .” For once in his life, he wished he could be that guy—the one who could love. The one who wasn’t screwed up and damaged beyond repair.
She placed her hand on his cheek. “I wish I could.”
The statement staggered him, nearly brought him to his knees. Belle was one of a kind. Strength and grace oozed from her pores, radiating from her like warm sunshine. Belle was too good for him. This woman was better off staying away. She’d only end up like him in the end—broken.
Chapter 16
Belle
Belle parked at the library, then texted TJ that she was there. Her thoughts drifted back to Bently and that kiss for the millionth time that day as she waited. His lips had felt like destruction and rebirth all at once. Her body had come alive in what seemed like the first time in her twenty-four years of life.
The back door opened and TJ threw his backpack in before climbing into the front seat.
“How was your day?” she asked, shifting into reverse. She backed out.
“Fine. Just can’t wait to be done with all this.” He sighed.
“You’re almost there. Then you have college to look forward to.”
“Do you mind dropping me off at the Hope Facility in the city? I can take the bus back,” he asked.
“Is that the place that Bently suggested?”
TJ nodded. “Yeah, I’d like to check it
