Page 33 of Marked By Tank
The room feels too small all at once. Too warm. Too quiet. The fire cracks low in the stove. Wind brushes the cabin outside. My heart knocks hard enough to make me feel a little unreal.
I should say something.
I do not know what.
So I go with the truth.
“I thought you wouldn’t.”
His brows pull together slightly. “Wouldn’t what?”
“Look at me like that.”
There.
Out in the room now.
No taking it back.
He goes very still.
Then he takes one step toward me.
“Like what?”
I hate that he makes me say it.
I hate more that I want to.
“Like you want me.”
The words come out quiet. Barely there. But they are there.
Something in his face hardens. Something like restraint pulled too tight over something rougher underneath.
He closes the distance between us with two more steps.
Now I have to tilt my head back to look at him. He is close enough that I feel his heat before he touches me. Close enough that the scent of him wraps around me. Soap. Coffee. Leather. The male warmth of the shirt hanging off my body.
His shirt.
On me.
The thought lands low.
His hand comes up.
My whole body goes alert.
But all he does is catch a damp strand of my hair and slide it over my shoulder. His knuckles brush the side of my neck on the way down.
A shiver runs through me so hard it feels like a betrayal.
His eyes catch it.
“Julie.”
My name in his voice does things to me I do not know how to defend against.
