Untouchable: (Unstoppable - Book 1) (The Unstoppable Series) by Danielle Hill

Author:Danielle Hill [Hill, Danielle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-09T05:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Nine

Riley

He withdrew emotionally before he’d left my body. I sensed the shift in him as reality crashed in, as realization dawned like a blinding light and his shutters came down, forging a distance between us I wouldn’t have thought possible only a few minutes ago. Without making eye contact, Reno moved to the edge of the bed, tugging on his underwear and throwing his shirt over his head. He shoved both legs into his jeans, shrugging them over his thighs and doing up the buttons without uttering a word or glancing in my direction.

A solid lump formed in my throat as I watched him retreat, disappointment surging in me. I’d naively believed this would change things, that we’d crossed a bridge and we could pick up where we left off… before. Lifting myself to a sitting position at the head of the bed, I pulled my bent knees up under my chin and wrapped my arms around them tightly. Tears sat just behind my lids, begging to fall, but I forced them back.

“Hey,” I murmured, voice thick with emotion, “you okay?”

He stilled at my words, his shoulders tightening. He didn’t look up as he responded gruffly, “Yeah.” Clasping his hands between his splayed legs, he said, “Are you?”

His voice was flat, devoid of any emotion. He could have been talking to a stranger in the street, instead of inquiring about the emotional state of the girl he’d just had sex with, then emotionally deserted before pulling out of her body.

My head bobbed automatically, whether to reassure myself or him I didn’t know. Either way, it was a lie. I wasn’t okay. But I continued nodding until I realized he couldn’t see it. I opened my lips to verbalize my response, then stopped myself. Even if I was sure I could get the words out, I deserved a single glance, just one. If he wanted to know how I was, I wanted him to look at me.

His head lowered, dipping between his thighs, and his clenched knuckles pressed into his forehead. When he finally turned, tilting his head to the side just far enough to see my face, I immediately wished I hadn’t forced his hand. A deep crease lined his forehead. His face was hard and his jaw tight. We should have stopped; that’s what he was thinking. It was so clear on his face; it was like I was reading his mind through a wall of glass.

Hurt sliced through my chest like a sharpened blade, and I wondered how much pain a heart could withstand before it became too damaged to repair. How many blows it could take before it shattered so completely the pieces wouldn’t fit back together the way they had before. Witnessing the regret that plagued him both times we’d done this devastated me, but it was the depth of sadness in his eyes, the despondency that blanketed him like a heavy fog, that was utterly heartbreaking. I wanted to fix him. I wanted to believe that I could.

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