Read Online Standing in the Shadows by Shannon McKenna - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Shannon McKenna
Ads: Link
smoke, and rainstorms. She stared straight up into his face, like she'd always wanted to do, and breathed him in. She drank in all the details: the sheen of beard stubble glinting metallic gold in the light from the corridor outside. The shadows beneath his brilliant eyes, the sharp line of his jutting cheekbones. How was it possible for a mouth to be so stern, and yet so sensual?
And his piercing eyes saw right into her soul.
She lost herself in it. She wanted to touch his face, to trail her fingers over every masculine detail, to feel the warmth of his skin. She wanted to press herself against his lean, solid bulk. She wished she had something to feed him, whether he was hungry or not.
Connor reached behind himself and shoved the door shut without breaking eye contact. She needed so badly for someone to know how lonely and lost she felt. Her mother was adrift in despair. Most of her friends were avoiding her. Not out of unkindness so much as sheer embarrassment, she suspected. But that didn't help the loneliness.
Connor saw it all, and it didn't embarrass him. His gaze didn't shy away. She didn't shy away, either, when he reached for her.
His touch was so careful and delicate, she could barely believe it was happening. Her eyes welled up. He smoothed away the tears that spilled over with a brush of his thumb, and folded her into his arms.
He pressed her face against the canvas of his coat. His hands stroked the length of her spine as if she were made of blown glass. He tucked her head under his chin. His breath warmed the top of her head.
She squeezed her eyes shut. He'd hugged her before, at her graduation party, at holiday gatherings, but not like this. Quick, nonsexual, brotherly hugs, but even so her heart had almost exploded out of her chest, it beat so fast and hard. His broad frame felt harder than she remembered, his muscles like tempered steel.
He'd been concentrated into the pure, potent essence of himself.
She wondered if the way she felt about him was written all over her face. He held her so carefully, vibrating with tension. Maybe he was afraid of hurting her feelings, or that she would misunderstand his friendly gesture and demand something he didn't want to give. All those years of romantic fantasies, all that heat, all that pent-up hunger, he had to feel it. Dad had said that he was psychic.
He'd seen everything: how lonely she felt, how needy. He stroked her hair, as if he were petting a wild animal that might bolt, or bite.
She didn't want careful, or gentle. She wanted him to push her onto the narrow futon cot, to pin her down with his big, strong body and give her something else to think about. Something hot and scary and wonderful. She could scream, she wanted it so bad. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck, pull him closer, and just gobble him up.
God, how could he
not
pity her?
That thought stung her. It gave her the strength to jerk away. She dug in her pocket for a Kleenex. "Sorry about that," she mumbled.
"Any time." His voice sounded thick. He cleared his throat.
She kept her face averted. He had to leave, and fast, before she burst into tears and covered herself with glory. "Um, I have to pack. I've got lots to do, so, uh…"
"Erin—"
"Don't start." She backed away, shaking her head. "I'm going on this trip, and I don't want a bodyguard, thanks for the offer. Thanks for the ride, thanks for the advice, the sympathy and the… the hug. And now, I really, really need to be alone. Good night."
He made a sharp, frustrated sound. "You need better locks. Hell, you need a new door. It's a waste to put a good lock on a door like this. I could kick the hinges in with my bad leg." He scanned her apartment, scowling. "I'll call my friend Seth. He can install something that—"
"And how am I supposed to pay him?"
"I'll pay for it myself, if you're short on cash," he said impatiently. "Seth'll give me a good deal. It's important, Erin. You're not safe here."
"Thanks, but I can
And his piercing eyes saw right into her soul.
She lost herself in it. She wanted to touch his face, to trail her fingers over every masculine detail, to feel the warmth of his skin. She wanted to press herself against his lean, solid bulk. She wished she had something to feed him, whether he was hungry or not.
Connor reached behind himself and shoved the door shut without breaking eye contact. She needed so badly for someone to know how lonely and lost she felt. Her mother was adrift in despair. Most of her friends were avoiding her. Not out of unkindness so much as sheer embarrassment, she suspected. But that didn't help the loneliness.
Connor saw it all, and it didn't embarrass him. His gaze didn't shy away. She didn't shy away, either, when he reached for her.
His touch was so careful and delicate, she could barely believe it was happening. Her eyes welled up. He smoothed away the tears that spilled over with a brush of his thumb, and folded her into his arms.
He pressed her face against the canvas of his coat. His hands stroked the length of her spine as if she were made of blown glass. He tucked her head under his chin. His breath warmed the top of her head.
She squeezed her eyes shut. He'd hugged her before, at her graduation party, at holiday gatherings, but not like this. Quick, nonsexual, brotherly hugs, but even so her heart had almost exploded out of her chest, it beat so fast and hard. His broad frame felt harder than she remembered, his muscles like tempered steel.
He'd been concentrated into the pure, potent essence of himself.
She wondered if the way she felt about him was written all over her face. He held her so carefully, vibrating with tension. Maybe he was afraid of hurting her feelings, or that she would misunderstand his friendly gesture and demand something he didn't want to give. All those years of romantic fantasies, all that heat, all that pent-up hunger, he had to feel it. Dad had said that he was psychic.
He'd seen everything: how lonely she felt, how needy. He stroked her hair, as if he were petting a wild animal that might bolt, or bite.
She didn't want careful, or gentle. She wanted him to push her onto the narrow futon cot, to pin her down with his big, strong body and give her something else to think about. Something hot and scary and wonderful. She could scream, she wanted it so bad. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck, pull him closer, and just gobble him up.
God, how could he
not
pity her?
That thought stung her. It gave her the strength to jerk away. She dug in her pocket for a Kleenex. "Sorry about that," she mumbled.
"Any time." His voice sounded thick. He cleared his throat.
She kept her face averted. He had to leave, and fast, before she burst into tears and covered herself with glory. "Um, I have to pack. I've got lots to do, so, uh…"
"Erin—"
"Don't start." She backed away, shaking her head. "I'm going on this trip, and I don't want a bodyguard, thanks for the offer. Thanks for the ride, thanks for the advice, the sympathy and the… the hug. And now, I really, really need to be alone. Good night."
He made a sharp, frustrated sound. "You need better locks. Hell, you need a new door. It's a waste to put a good lock on a door like this. I could kick the hinges in with my bad leg." He scanned her apartment, scowling. "I'll call my friend Seth. He can install something that—"
"And how am I supposed to pay him?"
"I'll pay for it myself, if you're short on cash," he said impatiently. "Seth'll give me a good deal. It's important, Erin. You're not safe here."
"Thanks, but I can
Similar Books
