Mirror of My Soul by Joey Hill (book club recommendations .TXT) 📕

fluids. When she practically shoved him into a sitting position on the bench, she used the head cover of her jumpsuit as a towel, dampened and pressed it to his forehead. He pushed her away after a second, leaned forward to put his head between his knees, taking deep breaths.

When she tried to close in, he shook his head, lifted his hand, warding her off.

“Give me a moment.”

She couldn’t stop herself from easing onto the bench next to him, reaching out and touching his hair lightly, tentative, one stroke, then another. Sweat was beaded on the back of his neck, staining his shirt, the man she’d never seen truly out of control, the passion of sex notwithstanding.

“The watch. Don’t take it. Leave it all alone.”

“I will,” she assured him. “Tyler, it’s Marguerite. I need you to be here, with me.”

Pressing her knuckles against his temple, his jaw, she leaned down and put her lips over his.

He bolted up off the bench, startling her so that he knocked her backwards, made her land hard on her hip on the ground. Lifting his hand to his lips, he pressed where her mouth had been. He shook his head as if clearing the confusion, reminding her of a horse she’d seen run into a barn once, trying to get his bearings back. His attention moved to the planes, down the runway, then to the bench, to her on the ground.

“Oh, Jesus. Angel, are you okay?” He was by her side in two strides, his arms under her, lifting her, putting her on the bench, checking her arms and legs, cupping her face.

“I didn’t…please tell me I didn’t hit you.”

“Not recently.” At his look of horror, she caught his hands, held them. “Yesterday, the spanking. I was teasing. No, you didn’t hit me. You’re fine. You just made me lose my balance when you got up so abruptly. Ssshhh…it’s okay. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

He stared at her and Marguerite squeezed his hands. “Tyler, are you all right? Can I do something for you? What’s going on?”

“Your feet…”

“They’re all clean. You took care of them. They’re fine.” She guided his face away from the pond and back to her, not wanting to set him off again by letting him see the pond’s banks, the muddy footprints she’d left.

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Tyler pressed his forehead to hers, drew in a deep shuddering breath. Let it out after a long moment. “Jesus, that was embarrassing. I haven’t done that in a long time.”

“Yes. I’m disappointed to find you’re human. I was arranging to have a big ‘S’

tattooed on your chest for your birthday and now I’ll have to come up with another gift.”

His jaw flexed and he drew back. “I’m sorry. That was inexcusable. And you don’t have to make jokes to make it less awkward.” He rose. “I should go.”

“Pardon me?”

He shook his head. “I shouldn’t be subjecting you to this.”

“What?” She rose and slapped a palm on his chest as he began to stride away.

“Could you please stop for a moment?”

He laid his hand over hers, cupped her cheek. “It’s all right. I just need a few moments and I’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure? I mean, I need to know this for certain.”

He straightened at the temper in her voice. “Yes, I’ll be fine. It won’t happen again.

I just need to go.” He started to step around her and she moved with him, this time catching hold of his shirt with both hands, making it clear if he wanted to escape he was going to have to drag her. His eyes narrowed dangerously, his hands latching on to her wrists. “Marguerite—”

“Of course it won’t happen again. I mean, it was obviously planned this time. I’m sure you can control it in the future.”

“Marguerite—”

“Tyler, shut up. I mean it.” She dug her fingers into him. “We’ve been to this doorway before and you keep leaving me in the cold. I’ve beaten the hell out of you, tried to stab you, tried every conceivable way to shut you out and yet that’s okay. But you won’t even tell me what’s going on in this one moment, where you’re obviously a greater danger to yourself than me.”

“I’m fine,” he snapped. “I just have to get away from it.”

“No, you’re trying to get away from me.” She walked in to him, surprised him by putting her head down and bracing her arms, backing him like a tug pushing a freighter many times its size toward dockside, only she was pushing him back toward the bench.

“Marguerite, what are you—”

“Sit.” She sat down next to him, took his hand, put her shoulder against his. “Tyler, I need you to tell me what just happened.”

He started to rise. Seizing his shirt collar, she jerked so that he lost his balance and sat back down, not expecting the rough movement. She put her hands on either side of his neck, drew his gaze to her fiery one. “I’m not going to run because you’re not invincible every moment of every fucking day. And guess what? I’m a pretty smart woman. I know what post-traumatic stress syndrome is. So why don’t you tell me what triggered it.”

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She swore at his indecision and cupped his face, pressed her lips to his, opened his mouth, explored him, tangled with his tongue until his hands were at her hips, gripping her with strength, his lust rising as she deliberately stoked it, drawing the animal up in him, giving him back his pride. She drew back, not surprised when his hands tightened, holding her fast, his amber eyes roused. “Any sacrifice to help,” she repeated his own words, gently teasing now. “You’re frightening me. You’re shutting me out, not trusting me to be strong enough to take it. To help. To listen.”

Relief, sudden and strong, flooded her chest at the rueful curve of his lips.

“Marguerite, I think of the two of us, I’m the