Protection by Elle Thorne

Author:Elle Thorne [Thorne, Elle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Barbed Borders Press
Published: 2015-01-24T06:00:00+00:00

Grant watched Chelsea bite her lip, worrying it with perfect white teeth, giving him visions of her nipping him, those teeth scraping along the flesh of his chest while she lowered her head.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

He needed to derail that lust train right now.

“How about we both share?” she offered.

He fought back the smile that threatened to erupt at her bargaining methods. Didn’t she know he was the last one who would ever hurt her with knowledge? “Leverage? Is that what you’re looking for?”

Her expression broadcast the internal battle she was struggling with. She was clearly torn between telling him and not telling him.

“I’m staying away from an ex-boyfriend.”

He nodded, a pensive look on his face. “You’re going to extremes to do it.”

She shrugged. “He’s not a nice guy.” A shudder ran through her body. She pulled her legs up, tucking her knees under her chin to keep from showing her fear.

“There’s more,” Grant said. “Isn’t there?”

Chelsea sighed. Tears glittered in her eyes, catching and reflecting the fire’s flames.

“He used to hit me.”

Grant closed his eyes to mask the anger that was forming deep within. He had no sympathy for men who hurt women.

“So you ran away?” Surely the law could have helped her?

“Yes, but... it was…” The words came slowly. She closed her eyes, as if reliving it. She was quiet for so long that he wondered if she’d fallen asleep or lost consciousness.

He reached for her. When his fingers touched her cheek, she flinched.

“Sorry. I wasn’t sure if you were okay. You’re fine, sweetheart. You’re fine.” He wrapped an arm around her. She nuzzled her head into his neck. Tiny sounds of comfort that only his bear could have heard came from her.

“I stabbed him.” A sob ripped from her throat. “I wouldn’t—I’m not—I don’t do that kind of thing.” Another sob.

He tightened his hold on her, made low, soothing, humming sounds and murmured words of comfort.

“He was going to kill me. So I picked up a knife. And held it out. And it—I—I stabbed him.”

“He died?” He tipped her head back to study her pain-filled dark eyes.

“No.”

Surely she realized that was self-defense. “You should have called the cops. Immediately.”

“He is a cop. In a small town.”

Dread smashed into anger deep within him. He knew how small-town law enforcement could be. He knew all about ranks closing.

“So now you’re living under the radar. Because of him.”

“I know he’ll kill me if he finds me. He’s got a scar on his cheek from that night. The knife slipped.”

Her next sigh was more like a ragged breath struggling and rattling within her body. He felt that struggle as she lay against his chest. She raised her head, her eyes on his, then her gaze traveled lower, to his lips, his chin, back to his lips.

“If you keep that up, I’ll do something I’ve wanted to do for a long time,” he whispered.

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