With Every Breath (Slow Burn #4) - Maya Banks Page 0,100

him.

“If we’re going to talk, you’re going to be comfortable and you’re going to be in my arms when you’re talking,” Wade said.

Then he simply arranged her to his liking, tucking her shoulder underneath his so that the top of her head was nestled under the line of his jaw, pressed to the side of his neck.

The fact that his body language, the tone of his voice, hadn’t registered the slightest change after her confession that she’d kept something from him gave her a strong measure of relief and the courage to forge ahead and not fear his reaction.

When had his approval become so important to her? When had it ever mattered to her whether she pissed him off or not? She was still struggling with the abrupt about-face their relationship had experienced and, in the back of her mind, there was a nagging worry that when this was over and she was no longer in danger, things would go back to the way they’d been before when they practiced reluctant tolerance of one another for the sake of their mutual friend.

But then she was far guiltier of being an ungrateful, childish bitch than he was of being an overbearing asshole. She’d never even thanked him for taking a bullet for her. For saving her life. Instead she’d avoided him when at all possible, and when avoidance wasn’t a possibility, she’d been snarky, sarcastic and purposely needled him at every opportunity.

It hadn’t bothered her then. She’d given it little thought. But now it ate at her. Her actions, her behavior and her treatment of this man deeply shamed her.

“You going to share, baby?” Wade asked, interrupting her self-castigation. “Not that I’m complaining about sitting here and just holding you, but you’re obviously upset, and from what I saw and heard, you have cause to be.”

“You watched it?” she asked in a low voice.

“Yeah. Hated that I couldn’t be there watching over my girl so I looked for her by tuning in to the broadcast.”

She curled her fingers into his shirt, wanting, needing to just hold on to him.

“I explained that I’ve worked endlessly to strengthen my mental barriers. And when I told you how he manipulated my mind, you asked if he could still do that. And I said no.”

He gave her a comforting squeeze.

“But I didn’t know that for certain,” she whispered shakily. “How could I? I had once thought to have Gracie try to read my mind to see if I could successfully shut her out, but Thomas was in prison and I thought he would never be a threat to me again and if I asked that of Gracie then I would have had to explain things I’d never shared with anyone and never intended to, so I just let it go but kept working at it. In a way, I think it was a part of my healing process. I was weak and easily manipulated and so desperate to be loved and to belong, and I hated myself for that for a very long time. I still do at times,” she admitted.

“I blamed myself for so many years. So taking steps to make myself believe that I was overcoming what I considered a weakness gave me back some of the power I’d lost. It made me feel protected whether it was true or complete bullshit.”

“Baby, if it gave you even a measure of security, made you feel safer, and especially if it gave you back anything that bastard took from you, then not only is it real, but it obviously provided something you needed. Who gives a shit if it can be scientifically proven? You and I have both witnessed the extraordinary. More than once and in more than one person. Do you think Ramie’s, Ari’s or Gracie’s abilities could ever be scientifically proven? Do you think there is a way to measure their abilities? Ever reproduce them in a lab or an experiment?”

“But it did work,” Eliza breathed, her fingers tightening into a ball, wadding his shirt in her grasp, pulling it taut across his chest.

Wade went still and then he gently pried her hand from his shirt and circled her wrist with his fingers, pulling her from the crook of his shoulder and positioning her so she straddled his lap facing him.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, his brows drawing together in a mixture of confusion and concern.

“I purposely positioned myself in front of the podium so Thomas would see me. Because