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Fuck.
“Tanner, you cannot get angry like this. You can’t just step in all the time to rescue me. Especially when I don’t need it.”
“Of course you need it.”
“I don’t. Linc has been nothing but good to me. And you are not going to go have words with him or anything else!” She pointed a finger at him. He lightly grabbed it, tugging her hand toward him.
Too late, she realized what he was doing as he pushed back her sleeve to look at her wrist.
“This is why you need me. Look at your wrist.”
“It’s fine.” She didn’t want to look at it. Seeing it bruised and swollen was going to trigger her.
Every bruise Stefan had put on her was ingrained on her brain. They were memories she didn’t wish to dig up.
“It’s not fucking fine. No one should put a hand on you like this. No one should hurt you.”
“You’re touching me right now.”
She knew it was a low blow because his touch was nothing like that asshole from last night.
He grew pale and drew back, giving her the space she wanted.
Well, what she’d told herself she wanted.
She took in a sharp breath.
“Are you scared of me, Lilac?”
Talk about déjà vu. He’d asked her that same question the night they’d had sex in the hotel room.
A small bark of laughter escaped her. It had a slightly hysterical sound to it. “If I were smart, I would be. A smart woman would stay well away from you, Tanner Malone.”
But she wasn’t smart. She was so freaking dumb. Because she didn’t want him to stop touching her. She wanted more. All of the touches. The kisses. The looks.
The possessiveness.
“Do you want me to stay away from you, Lilac?”
“Yes.” She forced the word out. Watching as he shut down. This was it. He was going to storm out of here. Tanner could be so damn sweet and kind and caring.
But he had a temper as well. That was clear.
Besides, he’d told her that what they’d had was just a fling. God, that had hurt.
“I see. Is it Linc?”
“Is what Linc?” she asked, confused.
“Is he the reason you want me to stay away from you?” he asked, looking ill. “You want Linc?”
Shock filled her. “What? No! Why would you think that?”
“You’re living with him, and he seems protective of you. So, I was wondering . . . is it him? Or maybe it’s me. You’re just not into me anymore?”
God. She should tell him yes. That she wasn’t into him anymore. But she lie to him. Sometimes, it felt like her entire life was a lie.
“It’s not you, it’s me.”
