“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he said gruffly. His nostrils were flaring. His sensual mouth turned hard. “I want you to stop running from me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Using all of the strength she could muster, she jerked out of his arms. “You were a little too wild and unpredictable for me. I wasn’t running from you, I just ran toward something better.”
His laugh wasn’t what she expected. “Safe, predictable Pat.”
She’d married the good brother when she’d really wanted the other. But even as young as she’d been at the time, something had warned her that a life with John wouldn’t have amounted to much. He’d lived on the edge.
Since John was between her and the door, Sammy backed farther into the tiny room, afraid of the determination in his eyes. Afraid of the desire coursing through her blood, almost rendering her incapable of breathing. She didn’t want him touching her again, yet she’d never wanted anything so bad either. Much more of his particular brand of foreplay and she’d be begging him to fuck her.
He moved closer. Sammy took another step back. “Yes,” she agreed. “He never ended up in jail.”
The briefest flicker in his gaze was his only reaction to her comment. He reached forward, touching a loose curl resting against her temple. Sammy’s heart skipped a beat.
She tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. The heat of his knuckles against her skin scorched her. She had to get away from him soon, before she said the hell with it and went for it. Maybe that’s what he wants. To see if I’m still susceptible to him. Is this all a game to him?
“As soft as I remember.”