She’d just thought of him as a violent man, but his lips were soft, easy, persuading. It had been so long since she’d allowed herself to be persuaded. With barely any pressure, with only the slightest hint of power, he sapped the will she’d always relied on. Her mind raced with questions, then clouded over to a fine, smoky mist. She wasn’t aware of how sweetly, how hesitantly her mouth answered his.

Whatever impulse had driven him to kiss her was lost in the reality of mouth against mouth. He’d expected her to resist, or to answer with fire and passion. To find her so soft, yielding, unsteady, had his own desire building in a way he’d never experienced. It was as though she’d never been kissed before, never been held close to explore what man and woman have for each other. Yet she had a daughter, he reminded himself. She’d had a child, she was young, beautiful. Other men had held her like this. Yet he felt like the first and had no choice but to treat her with care.

The more she gave, the more he wanted. He’d known needs before. The longer he held her, the longer he wanted to. He understood passions. But a part of himself he couldn’t understand held back, demanded restraint. She wanted him—he could feel it. But even as his blood began to swim, his hands, as if under their own power, eased her away.

Needs, so long unstirred, churned in her. As she stared back at him, Liz felt them spring to life, with all their demands and risks. It wouldn’t happen to her again. But even as she renewed the vow she felt the soft, fluttering longings waltz through her. It couldn’t happen again. But the eyes that were wide and on his reflected confusion and hurt and hope. It was a combination that left Jonas shaken.

“You should get some sleep,” he told her, and took care not to touch her again.

So that was all, Liz thought as the flicker of hope died. It was foolish to believe, even for a moment, anything could change. She brought her chin up and straightened her shoulders. Perhaps she’d lost control of many things, but she could still control her heart. “I’ll give you a receipt for the rent and the key in the morning. I get up at six.” She took the twenty-dollar bill she’d left on the counter and walked out.

CHAPTER 4

The jury was staring at him. Twelve still faces with blank eyes were lined behind the rail. Jonas stood before them in a small, harshly lit courtroom that echoed with his own voice. He carried stacks of law books, thick, dusty and heavy enough to make his arms ache. But he knew he couldn’t put them down. Sweat rolled down his temples, down his back as he gave an impassioned closing plea for his client’s acquittal. It was life and death, and his voice vibrated with both. The jury remained unmoved, disinterested. Though he struggled to hold them, the books began to slip from his grasp. He heard the verdict rebound, bouncing off the courtroom walls.