My loneliness was only part of it. I’d been holding onto the residue of hope that he hadn’t cheated, that it had all been a misunderstanding, which nursed my twisted need to remain faithful to him. Not to mention this sickening depth of love that hadn’t faded after two years without him.

It all rose up in a wall of self-loathing, putting pressure on my chest and closing my throat. I could do nothing but gulp back the lump that tried to escape as a sob.

He didn’t need to hear my answer. Comprehension softened his mean mouth. His shoulders fell with a shuddering exhale, and his gaze moved over me, not with its usual predatory gleam but in the assessing way of a concerned husband.

“If my heart was half as cold as yours,” I said, holding his unblinking stare, “I would’ve sought comfort in the arms of another man.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had.” He stepped toward me, his gait graceful and deadly. “Make no mistake. I would’ve hunted down every bastard who touched you and torn him limb from limb. But I’m…” His gaze warmed, and his fingers twitched at his sides. “I’m overwhelmingly, undeservedly relieved. You humble me.”

There was nothing humble about him. His intimidating shadow fell over me, dwarfing everything in the room. Then his body closed in. Shirtless. Sculpted. Devastatingly handsome. Devastatingly dangerous. Just…devastating.

He was a feared man, a ruthless criminal, his very stance pulsing with power. But it wasn’t his physical strength that made me want to run.

I forced myself to hold still, pinned between him and the desk and the thickly charged air around us.

He took forever to make his next move, and when he did, it was with his hands on my face, cupping my jaw, tilting my head back. He regarded me with long-lashed, languid, molten-metal eyes that glowed in the shadows.

“I’m sorry.” His Welsh cadence was gloriously uneven as if the apology affected him more than me.

He wasn’t one to hide his emotions. He wore them like a badge. Even now guilt furrowed his forehead. Regret sank into the down-turned corners of his lips. And there was something else. Something that made him look at me like he never had before.

“Don’t you dare pity me.” I turned my head, pulling away. “I’m not your victim.”

“Pity? By God, Bennett, I admire you. I respect you, without reservation or design. I hold you on a damn gilded pedestal.”

Words.

Lies.

Everything out of his mouth was a blasphemous ululation.

“If I wanted to fill my ears with shit, I’d dunk my head in the chamber pot.” Clapping my gaze to his, I gave him my stoniest glare.

He glared back.

Unbending. Deadlocked. He wanted to entangle our future. I wanted to undo our past.