She closed her eyes, sighing as she tilted her head upward. A clear invitation.

A feather-light brush of my lips over hers, and she tensed under my touch, jerking her head to the side.

Ice-cold water doused my insides, my chest caving in on itself.

She’s told you all along she doesn’t want this.

That hadn’t made me immune to what I thought was a mutual current between us.

“I’m sorry,” I said, quickly straightening to give her some room.

But then I looked at her—really looked at her. My stomach plummeted.

“Amber?” I said, gripping her shoulders. “You’re trembling.” I eyed her up and down, taking note of the way her fists were clenched, her fingers shaking. Slow tears rolled down the cheeks that were warm with my breath seconds ago. “What is it?” I asked, her eyes closed, blocking me from getting through to her. “Fuck, Amber, I’m so sorry,” I said, panic building in me. “I didn’t mean to cross a line. I swear.” I’d honestly thought she was on the same page, wanting the kiss, inviting it. I never believed I could read her so wrong, that I could cause this reaction.

She sucked in a stuttered breath, finally opening her eyes.

Apologetic. Hurt. Scared.

She flung her arms around my middle, almost barreling into me despite the small amount of space between us. I instantly enveloped her, stroking her back, silently begging her shaking to stop as she sobbed into my chest.

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Amber

“I’m so embarrassed,” I said through my tears. Unable to stop them. Unable to stop the flood of memories that had crushed the cloud-nine level of happiness I’d been on seconds before Dean had leaned in to kiss me.

I’d shut my eyes, ready and thirsting for him.

And then boom.

Hello darkness, my old friend.

My past slashed through all the good feelings and tossed me right back into the pit I’d promised myself I wouldn’t visit tonight.

Never tonight.

Not when Dean had gone so above and beyond. More than anyone ever had. Hell, he’d brought out the big Loki guns.

“Tonight was so perfect,” I said, inhaling Dean’s scent, using it to calm the mortification squeezing my lungs. “The most fun I’ve had in so long.” Having gained some form of control, I tipped my chin up enough to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

He smoothed his thumbs over my wet cheeks, shaking his head. “You have nothing to be sorry about, Pixie.” He gave me a closed-mouth smile, his blue-gray eyes searching mine, trying like hell to break the locks I’d snapped over everything rolling inside me. “I told you,” he said. “I want to know you. You never have to hide from me or be someone you’re not. Not with me.”