Don't Need You - Lilian Monroe Page 0,14

her? How can I show her that, even though I have no right to, I care?

But Serena turns her back to me, her slight shoulders rounding as she hugs her arms to her chest.

My heart twinges, and I know things are about to get a lot more complicated.

4

Serena

All I want to do is turn around and run into Kit’s embrace. I want to feel that warm hand on my lower back again. Those strong arms wrapped around me. I want to bury my face in his chest and let my tears soak his shirt.

But what kind of person does that make me?

I run away from one man and into the arms of another. I don’t even know Kit. I don’t know if he’s the same as Angelo. If he’d show up on my doorstep and wait for me to come home. If he’d break things whenever he was angry. If he’d cheat on me and make me feel worthless, and blame me when things went wrong.

Somehow, I doubt it.

Kit has a soothing energy. It swirls around him like a magnetic field, reaching out toward me with warm, comforting tendrils. Even standing beside him, I feel stronger than when I’m alone. Glancing over my shoulder, I see him watching.

“It’s nothing, Kit. I promise.”

“You mean your brother took off running down the street for no reason? Chased some guy who was slinking around your front step? That’s nothing?”

His eyes search mine, and I have to look away. My hands shake as I head to the kitchen and try to pour myself a glass of water. I have to lean against the counter, dropping my head into my chest.

I won’t cry. I won’t.

I’m done crying for Angelo. I don’t want to feel unsafe anymore.

All I want is a life. A future. I want to be able to lock my door and know no one will be able to open it up again.

I sense Kit in the kitchen doorway, but I don’t move. His steps are silent on the old linoleum, and I don’t have the courage to face him.

But then, his hand slides over my back. It’s warm. Comforting. Inviting.

Almost instinctively, I turn toward Kit and melt into his arms. He wraps them around me, holding me close. I cling to his shirt, letting silent tears soak the fabric.

And he just holds me.

He doesn’t ask any more questions. He doesn’t pry. He just wraps those strong, comforting arms around me and makes me feel safe. His hand slides up my back and rests against the back of my head. When he strokes my hair, I let out a long sigh.

When was the last time I felt safe in a man’s arms?

My heart thuds, and an unfamiliar feeling curls in the pit of my stomach. Kit’s hand splays over my back as he pulls me closer, his lips resting near my forehead. The feeling in my stomach blooms, spreading through my core and down between my thighs.

Heat.

Delicious, comforting, and a little bit spicy. It thaws the icicles that cling to my insides. It curls in lazy circles, wrapping its way along my chest and over my limbs. I sigh into Kit’s chest, already addicted to the feeling of his arms around me.

I’m warm. My fingers tighten into his shirt, pulling him close as I try to suck up every bit of warmth he has to give. I want to crack myself open and let it pour into me. I want to chase away the chill that’s clung to my marrow for ten years. I want his heat. His fire. His blaze.

I want this feeling everywhere, all the time. More, more, more. With every second that passes, another chill is banished from my body. My toes feel warm for the first time in years.

My breath catches as I inhale his scent, another bit of my frigid body thawing at his touch. His hand splays over my back and my whole body trembles. Kit doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t ask questions. He just gives. He gives me his warmth and his safety, holding me against his chest until I forget what it’s like to feel cold.

As Kit’s hands curl into my hair, I have to pull away.

My body rages. It roils. Blood pumps through my veins as a fire burns between my legs. I wipe my eyes, ducking my head away.

“Thanks,” I rasp, not daring to look at him.

What kind of person am I? One touch from a man, and I’m putty in his hands.

No wonder