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He gave her a small smile and leaned back in his seat.
“I don’t like how pale and shaky you are.”
“I’m really all right,” she said softly. “Xavier ran so many tests that I’m certain my insurance company is going to have me on some black list.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Xavier is thorough. There really wasn’t anything wrong? You’re just rundown or something?”
“There’s nothing seriously wrong with me. I guess you could say I’m rundown. Pushed myself a bit hard on my run.”
“That’s good, Georgie-girl.” He placed his large hand over hers and squeezed. “Just answer me one question then decide if you want to stay or go.”
Whether he could actually let her go, he wasn’t sure.
Georgina knew she could refuse to answer, but he looked so worried. About her. When was the last time someone worried about her? Sure, her mother obsessed over every little thing about her. But that was more about maintaining a certain image than any sort of real concern. She didn’t know why her mother was the way she was, but she thought it had something to do with the way she was brought up.
Her brothers loved her. She knew they did. But their love meant they used any weakness to get all into her business. And the last thing she wanted was to be steamrolled by one of them.
But then having your big brothers take charge was a whole different ballgame from having a sexy, handsome man who made you feel incredibly safe.
Yep. No comparison.
“What did you want to ask me?” she asked.
But he was far too perceptive. “Hey, what’s wrong?” His enormous hand cupped her cheek. He was built big. Muscular. And she wondered if he was big all over.
She found herself blushing at the thought.
“You feel a bit too warm. Almost feverish.” His hand moved to her forehead.
“I’m fine,” she squeaked out. “Really.”
Jesus, if he guessed the reason why she was all warm then she really would curl up in embarrassment.
“You’re upset. Why? Did I say something? You got to tell me if I say stupid shit that upsets you.”
“I . . . you didn’t upset me. Please, can you just ask me the question?” She needed to get away from him. Before she threw herself at him and begged him to kiss her again. To hold her tight. To keep her safe.
“Shh, it’s okay. Calm down,” he whispered. He raised his other hand, cupping her face. He moved his fingers to her neck, rubbing his thumbs into her jaw, gently easing the tension there.
She realized her breathing had grown erratic. She wasn’t panicking exactly. But she did feel her anxiety rising. Shoot.
“Breath in. Hold. Breathe out. That’s my good girl. You got it. You’re all right,” he soothed.
“S-sorry.” She couldn’t look him in the eyes, instead her gaze hit his chin.
But she should have known that he wasn’t letting her get away with that. He tilted her face up. “Nope.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He smirked. “No saying sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. Want to tell me what brought that on?”
“No.” That wasn’t happening.
He sighed and dropped his hands. Darn, she felt the loss of his touch.
She winced. Shoot. She hated that he looked disappointed. In her. She had a real issue with disappointing people.
“Is your stomach sore?”
