I sighed. “Don’t the two of us have enough troubles in our lives without inviting more in?”

“I don’t think a date with you would be much trouble at all, and if it is, you’ll be worth it.” He grinned broadly, showing his cocky side, which I had to admit I found attractive. Really attractive. I liked that bit of bad boy in him.

Axel rose from his seat and closed the distance between us. I made the fatal mistake of meeting his gaze, and once again I was sucked into that place that knew no space or time, only us. The two of us. We might not have been physically touching, but we were emotionally and spiritually.

If you don’t think that’s weird coming from me, you don’t know me. I don’t think stuff like this. I’m a practical sort, not an airy-fairy type.

But here I was. Feeling a connection. Wallowing in it. Falling prey to its power. Wanting more when I couldn’t want more.

Why couldn’t I?

All my internal arguments against being with Axel faded as Axel leaned toward me. He ran his index finger reverently along my jawline. Then he touched my lips, gently, carefully, as if touching a delicate flower. I shivered. The embers in his gaze flared. The heat inside me grew to bonfire proportions.

I leaned closer to him. Our lips were inches apart, then an inch, then they touched. Just a brief touch, nothing more. No full-on lip-lock, no tongue, no clashing of teeth. If I’d been standing, this kiss would’ve knocked me off my feet harder than the roughest, deepest kiss I’d ever had.

I staggered backward before he deepened the kiss, and I would be irrevocably lost. My back bumped a fake plant behind me, my gaze still locked with his.

I swallowed hard and forced my eyes to focus on a point over his shoulder. I was shaking inside and close to shaking on the outside. Only my well-honed ability to conceal my emotions prevented making an embarrassing situation worse.

“I can’t go out with you. While your persistence has been amusing and annoying, you need to stop. Give up,” I said coldly in a voice that would discourage most men, but Axel wasn’t most men.

“Giving up is not in my vocabulary.”

I was afraid of that. Axel’s voice was cool and calm, and I wondered if he was feeling the inner turmoil I was feeling or if this was just another day of seduction to him.

“Look, Axel,” I said in all seriousness, “I’m coming out of a bad relationship, a very bad one, and I don’t have anything left to give anyone right now. I like you. You’re a good guy, but I don’t want to date you.”

“What was his name?”

For a moment, his shift to asking about my ex caught me off guard. “Wendall, but everyone called him Weasel,” I supplied.

His brows shot up into his hairline, but he made no other comment. “I’m not”—he cleared his throat, as if he was choking down a snort—“Weasel. I’m me. You can’t paint us all with the same brush, Gen.”