Burned. Sarah Morgan
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Название: Burned
Автор: Sarah Morgan
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: Mills & Boon Cosmo Red-Hot Reads
isbn: 9781472096203
isbn:
‘I’m not responsible for their bad behaviour. A woman should be free to walk where she likes without fear of being accosted by losers.’
‘You put yourself in a position where those losers could have hurt you.’
‘So you’re saying it’s my fault they behaved badly?’
He clenched his jaw. ‘No, I’m not saying that.’
I kept my hands clasped in my lap because the craving to touch him was scarily strong. ‘I didn’t know they were behind me. I wasn’t paying attention. I was upset.’
‘Because that guy told you to learn to bake cakes?’
No, because I’d seen him. All I’d wanted to do was run.
I was a coward. I prided myself on being gutsy and strong and I’d fled like a rabbit being chased by a fox.
‘I didn’t see any point in prolonging the evening. I’ve had a long week.’
‘Did you run because of me?’
‘Oh, please....’ Now I was doing a Brian, leaving my sentences unfinished, but in my case it was because I didn’t want to tell the truth and I was a hopeless liar.
Hunter didn’t bother inserting the words I hadn’t spoken. He didn’t have to. He already knew the answer to that one. He’d always been able to read me. We probably could have had an entire conversation without opening our mouths.
Keeping his eyes fixed on the road, he drove past the Houses of Parliament up to Buckingham Palace and then drove through Hyde Park, headlights bouncing off trees and sending a shimmer of light across the Serpentine pond. I didn’t own a car. For a start, I didn’t have the money to run one, but in London there was no point. Why spend the whole day sitting in traffic?
Hunter reached into a pocket in the car and handed me a dressing pad. ‘Your head is bleeding.’
‘It’s nothing.’ A bit of blood was the least of my worries. I had bigger concerns, like the fact my heart was hammering. It didn’t feel normal to me. ‘I had the situation under control. You didn’t need to help out.’ I took the pad, ripped it open and pushed it against my forehead, wondering what else he carried in this car. I hoped he had a defibrillator, because I was pretty sure I was going to need one.
‘If I hadn’t arrived when I did, you’d be a crime statistic.’
‘I was doing just fine.’
‘Your balance was wrong. You need to watch the way you drive your leg. You’re straightening too soon and losing power. You need a ninety-degree angle. You need to bend more. And turn your hips.’
I was trying not to think about my hips. I was trying not to think about any part of my body, especially not the parts that were near my pelvis. I was worried I was about to catch fire.
For a moment I wondered if I was the only one feeling this way and then I saw his knuckles, white on the wheel, and realized he was struggling, too.
‘Why did you follow me?’
‘Because I knew you were upset. I wasn’t going to leave you alone in that situation.’
‘Why? You left me without a backward glance five years ago, so it’s a little late to develop a protective streak.’ I thought it was hypocritical of him to pretend he cared about my well-being when he’d once left me in a million pieces bleeding. Maybe that’s a little dramatic, but that’s how it felt.
His shoulders tensed and I realised that, far from seeming indifferent, I’d just revealed a wound the size of a continent.
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