Into Your Arms by Abigail Strom

Author:Abigail Strom [Strom, Abigail]
Language: eng
Format: epub
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Published: 2012-12-14T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

The explosion of feeling was like the rush of blood to a limb that had fallen asleep. It was so intense it almost hurt, as liquid sensation flooded into all the dry and empty places.

Nick wasn’t gentle. His hands were hard, his mouth was hard, and his body was hard as he molded her to him. His erection ground against her through the layers of their clothing, and something animal rose up inside her. She wanted to rip his clothes off. She wanted that hardness inside her. She wanted—

Suddenly he wrenched his mouth from hers, leaving her lips tingling and her chin burning from the bristles on his jaw. He was breathing raggedly, like her, and the sound of it filled her ears.

After a minute he spoke. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

He set her down on the floor very carefully, staying close enough that she could keep her hands on his shoulders for balance. She blinked up at him, so tall and strong and male, and he smelled so good she wanted to press her face against his chest and breathe him in.

“Why did you?” she asked, when she could trust herself to speak.

It wasn’t the question she wanted to ask. What she wanted to ask was why he’d stopped.

He grabbed her crutches from the floor and handed them to her, putting a little distance between them. “It was either that or slap you.”

She rebalanced herself on the crutches. “Those were your only two choices?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, and she wondered if he was trying to stop himself from touching her. She was squeezing her crutches right now in an effort to keep from touching him.

“I can’t stand seeing you like this. And yeah, I blame myself for your fall, which makes it about a thousand times worse. I’m watching a beautiful, talented woman give up on her life, and it’s my fault.”

She started to say something, and he held up a hand. “You know what? Forget that part of it. It’s not important that I think it’s my fault. What matters is that you’re giving up. You’re not going to physical therapy. Emilio says you haven’t returned Mr. Thackeray’s calls. You won’t talk to your friends. You won’t talk to anybody.”

He took a deep breath, and a determined expression came into his eyes. “You can’t be the first dancer something like this has happened to. What if it happened to Emilio? What would you tell him to do? Curl up in fetal position and wait to die? Because that’s what you’re doing.”

Sara felt her cheeks burning. “Why do you do this? Why do you push and push? You pushed me about Harry, and now you’re pushing me to—”

“Not give up on your own life?” He threw up his hands. “Yeah, I am. I should have started pushing you two weeks ago, but I told myself we don’t know each other well enough for that. But I want to know you that well. When

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