Up in Smoke - Tessa Bailey Page 0,56

against her might have been inadvertent, but it didn’t excuse his withholding himself. She’d found a way to ease her demons and he’d yanked it away. Remembering the way he’d turned her away last night made him sick to his stomach. An empty triumph that had only succeeded in pushing her away after they’d taken two steps forward. After she’d charged straight at him and held him, only seconds having passed since he’d shattered a window with his fist.

It had felt so good, just to regain some vestige of control after losing it at the parking structure, but it hadn’t been worth it. Not even close. He doubted Erin even knew what she was dealing with. Haphephobia. The fear of being touched that often presented itself after a traumatic event. Touch from another human being often felt like fire burning the sufferer’s skin. The fact that she got pleasure from contact with his body was a rare miracle and he’d squandered it. God, if he could go back to last night, he’d let her hand wring every ounce of pleasure from his body and beg for more. He’d been a selfish motherfucker.

So he couldn’t touch her with his hands. Yet. Would he trade the connection he had with Erin for someone who allowed his touch, but didn’t make him feel anything? No way in hell. Now he had to prove that to her. If it meant setting aside his overwhelming compulsion to pin her down and put his mark on her, if it meant putting himself through torture by going slow, he would do it. A significant factor in his thirst for control came from satisfying the woman. For the first time ever, the woman was his woman. Knowing he was the only one Erin could stand to touch might just be the most powerful piece of control he’d ever experienced. Too bad it had taken her almost walking out on him twice to figure it out. Now that he knew, his veins were pumped full of might.

Touch me, woman. If she walked in the door right now, he just might shout it at her.

But not tonight. Tonight they would talk. If a traumatic event had led to her phobia, he wanted to know every last detail, even if it might send him off on a rampage to avenge her. At least it would be out in the open. At least he would know what memories they needed to conquer. After he knew the full scope of what they were dealing with, he would take the steps to ensure her stepfather couldn’t hurt her. When Erin had run out on him this morning, he’d been restless with the urge to do something proactive to help her, but he had nothing to go on yet. So he’d settled for research. For now.

Footsteps.

Connor pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to ignore the sound. It was just his imagination. She would come home when she was ready. He couldn’t conjure her up by his will alone.

When the door opened, his hand clenched so tight that the pencil between his fingers snapped. She stood outlined in the entrance looking so heartbreakingly stunning, he couldn’t form words. Her eyes were heavy with so many emotions, he couldn’t capture them all before she was striding toward him. Sex pounded in his ears. There was no other description for it. Her hips snapped side to side with every step, breasts swaying beneath her shirt. Erin always threw off sexual energy in waves, but she’d turned it up, daring him not to look at her tight thighs, her exposed belly, her parted mouth.

Talk to her. You have to talk. Out of self-preservation, Connor stood and started to put some distance between them. But he stopped. He couldn’t reject her touch again. He wouldn’t. Not when she needed it. Jesus, he needed it, too. With her standing in front of him, the desire was practically eating him alive, stripping him down until all that existed was her first touch. Where it would land. How it would wrangle the chaos inside, getting him hard at the same time. How she’d get aroused just by pressing her hands to his skin.

First, he needed to apologize. Needed her to know he understood what she went through on a daily basis now and things would be better. He’d make it so. “I’m sorry, Erin. I didn’t know.”

Her steps didn’t slow. “Know what?”

“What it feels like.” He swallowed the knot in his