Irresistible In Love
Page 26
“I’m fine.” His mantra. One he knew Paige could see straight through.
She wasn’t the only one who could see through it now.
It was instinctive for them to make their way to the library, a warm room with comfortable chairs and light streaming in through the garden windows. They both sat on the worn, dark leather couch, and Paige kicked off her shoes, tucking her feet beneath her.
They’d often been alone in his library, talking about books or politics or a work problem that one of them was struggling with. But he’d never been this aware of being alone with her. Never so conscious of how her lips moved, how beautiful her smile was. How tempting.
“You must feel overwhelmed,” she said in a voice as gentle as the smile she’d given him earlier. “I know I do, and they’re not even my brother and sister.” And mother. The two words she didn’t say aloud echoed between them.
The easiest thing to say was, “Tony and Kelsey—I like them both.”
“They’re great. Do you want to get to know them better?”
“Yes.” There was no hesitation when it came to his siblings. It was only the thought of their mother being a part of the group that made his gut clench.
“You like suddenly finding you have family, don’t you?”
He leaned his chin on his hand and nodded, the smile he knew she was hoping to see finally finding its way to his mouth. “They’re good people. Susan and Bob would like them.” It was a massive understatement. Susan would adore them.
“But?” she asked.
“I didn’t say but.”
“Sometimes silence is the loudest thing of all.” She leaned closer, lowered her voice. “Talk to me, Evan. Tell me what you need. Let me help you.”
Her eyes were bright, her skin glowed, and her mouth was so damned soft and sweet-looking. That was Paige—compassionate, wonderful, always taking care of others, taking care of him. And he was suddenly too freaking close to dragging her against him. Too damned close to tearing her clothes off and losing himself in her. Letting her help him forget, if only for a handful of naked, erotically charged moments, what a mess his life was, top to bottom.
That was his worst sin—wanting to take more from Paige, when all she’d ever done was give.
* * *
Paige couldn’t breathe. Not when she felt as if they were on a precipice. With a looming fall whose consequences could be more beautiful than anything either of them had ever known.
Or utterly heartbreaking.
She’d meant to help him with words, with her skills at therapy, not with her body.
Yet if he’d asked, she would have given him her body, her pleasure, everything, if it would help ease his pain in any way.
A thousand times over she’d counseled her patients not to confuse sex with love—but knowing the rules didn’t mean she could always follow them.
Especially not when she’d been in love with Evan for so long that she literally ached with it.
She was almost there, so close to offering her aid in a kiss, so close to reaching out the way her heart and body desperately wanted to.
But then Evan shifted back on the couch. Away from her. Deliberately putting space between them as he said, “What I really need is help with understanding why Theresa finally came back. She’s obviously known where I’ve been all these years. So if not for money, then what’s really going on?”
Disappointment that he’d chosen not to kiss her again was like a vise around her heart, but she pushed it down. Those emotions didn’t have a place in this heavy discussion. Only the honest, but difficult, answer she knew she had to give him. “Forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness?” Anguish—then fury—rippled across his face. “I remember the first time he hit me. I was six.”
She tried not to wince. If she were closeted with a patient, she would ask questions, draw out feelings, impressions. With Evan, she could only bite her lip to keep from crying out.
If only she could cut off her emotions and listen with a purely psychological brain. That was how she got through her days of hearing things that curdled her soul. She listened, she offered aid, she encouraged healing, and she kept her emotions in check. She could do nothing for a patient if her emotions got in the way. It was how doctors and nurses were able to treat children with cancer. Empathy and sympathy without giving away their soul. Otherwise, the pain would kill them, and they would never cure anyone.
But this was Evan. And she had no guard against her emotions or his pain.
“He’d always grabbed and yanked and pulled and left bruises. And there was a lot of yelling, him at me, him at her. But when I was six, he just hauled off and backhanded me across the chest. The blow threw me across the room.”
His eyes were bleak now, his voice devoid of emotion. Like an automaton repeating instructions. Her heart bled with the need to touch him. But if she did, neither of them would get through this, and he needed to get it out. She sure as hell didn’t believe he’d ever shared any of this with Whitney. Because if he had, it surely would have changed her sister, made her into a better human being, more understanding. How could it not have?
“I’d stabbed one of his screwdrivers through a chair cushion. I was punching stars into a piece of paper. But it went right through the vinyl.”
“It was just a mistake,” she whispered. “An accident.”
“That didn’t matter. When she ran to me and said it was her fault for letting me play there, he smacked her across the face.”
She wasn’t the only one who could see through it now.
It was instinctive for them to make their way to the library, a warm room with comfortable chairs and light streaming in through the garden windows. They both sat on the worn, dark leather couch, and Paige kicked off her shoes, tucking her feet beneath her.
They’d often been alone in his library, talking about books or politics or a work problem that one of them was struggling with. But he’d never been this aware of being alone with her. Never so conscious of how her lips moved, how beautiful her smile was. How tempting.
“You must feel overwhelmed,” she said in a voice as gentle as the smile she’d given him earlier. “I know I do, and they’re not even my brother and sister.” And mother. The two words she didn’t say aloud echoed between them.
The easiest thing to say was, “Tony and Kelsey—I like them both.”
“They’re great. Do you want to get to know them better?”
“Yes.” There was no hesitation when it came to his siblings. It was only the thought of their mother being a part of the group that made his gut clench.
“You like suddenly finding you have family, don’t you?”
He leaned his chin on his hand and nodded, the smile he knew she was hoping to see finally finding its way to his mouth. “They’re good people. Susan and Bob would like them.” It was a massive understatement. Susan would adore them.
“But?” she asked.
“I didn’t say but.”
“Sometimes silence is the loudest thing of all.” She leaned closer, lowered her voice. “Talk to me, Evan. Tell me what you need. Let me help you.”
Her eyes were bright, her skin glowed, and her mouth was so damned soft and sweet-looking. That was Paige—compassionate, wonderful, always taking care of others, taking care of him. And he was suddenly too freaking close to dragging her against him. Too damned close to tearing her clothes off and losing himself in her. Letting her help him forget, if only for a handful of naked, erotically charged moments, what a mess his life was, top to bottom.
That was his worst sin—wanting to take more from Paige, when all she’d ever done was give.
* * *
Paige couldn’t breathe. Not when she felt as if they were on a precipice. With a looming fall whose consequences could be more beautiful than anything either of them had ever known.
Or utterly heartbreaking.
She’d meant to help him with words, with her skills at therapy, not with her body.
Yet if he’d asked, she would have given him her body, her pleasure, everything, if it would help ease his pain in any way.
A thousand times over she’d counseled her patients not to confuse sex with love—but knowing the rules didn’t mean she could always follow them.
Especially not when she’d been in love with Evan for so long that she literally ached with it.
She was almost there, so close to offering her aid in a kiss, so close to reaching out the way her heart and body desperately wanted to.
But then Evan shifted back on the couch. Away from her. Deliberately putting space between them as he said, “What I really need is help with understanding why Theresa finally came back. She’s obviously known where I’ve been all these years. So if not for money, then what’s really going on?”
Disappointment that he’d chosen not to kiss her again was like a vise around her heart, but she pushed it down. Those emotions didn’t have a place in this heavy discussion. Only the honest, but difficult, answer she knew she had to give him. “Forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness?” Anguish—then fury—rippled across his face. “I remember the first time he hit me. I was six.”
She tried not to wince. If she were closeted with a patient, she would ask questions, draw out feelings, impressions. With Evan, she could only bite her lip to keep from crying out.
If only she could cut off her emotions and listen with a purely psychological brain. That was how she got through her days of hearing things that curdled her soul. She listened, she offered aid, she encouraged healing, and she kept her emotions in check. She could do nothing for a patient if her emotions got in the way. It was how doctors and nurses were able to treat children with cancer. Empathy and sympathy without giving away their soul. Otherwise, the pain would kill them, and they would never cure anyone.
But this was Evan. And she had no guard against her emotions or his pain.
“He’d always grabbed and yanked and pulled and left bruises. And there was a lot of yelling, him at me, him at her. But when I was six, he just hauled off and backhanded me across the chest. The blow threw me across the room.”
His eyes were bleak now, his voice devoid of emotion. Like an automaton repeating instructions. Her heart bled with the need to touch him. But if she did, neither of them would get through this, and he needed to get it out. She sure as hell didn’t believe he’d ever shared any of this with Whitney. Because if he had, it surely would have changed her sister, made her into a better human being, more understanding. How could it not have?
“I’d stabbed one of his screwdrivers through a chair cushion. I was punching stars into a piece of paper. But it went right through the vinyl.”
“It was just a mistake,” she whispered. “An accident.”
“That didn’t matter. When she ran to me and said it was her fault for letting me play there, he smacked her across the face.”
