Her little gasp of a breath broke against his lips as she sagged into him, his dangling belt buckle catching on the loop of her jeans.

LJ’s hands slid down to the curve of her back, and he pulled away just enough to see the tears flooding down her cheeks, and the streaks of mascara that only emphasized the wildness of her green eyes.

“I don’t want to be broken,” she gasped.

His fingers tightened, the shimmery fabric of her blouse warm from her skin, her waist impossibly tiny against his broad palms. Something had happened to her tonight, something bad. He didn’t know what, and he didn’t know how that added up to the whirlwind of a kiss she’d planted on him. All that mattered now was getting her safe. He guided her away from the door, tipping his head toward his kitchen. “Come inside. I’ll make you a sandwich.”

She stepped back, swiping at her face with shaking hands. He toed the door closed and buckled his belt, tugging his jeans a little straighter because that kiss alone had brought him halfway to standing. But every other thought in his crowded head got kicked to the curb at the sight of her distress.

Her sniff was loud in his small apartment, and he flicked on the kitchen light so it would seem more welcoming.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t even know why I came here.”

He frowned, leading the way into the kitchen. “You can always come over here. Don’t have to have a reason.”

“I know you were upset earlier, and I didn’t even ask what was wrong.” She sucked in another sniffling breath. “It’s okay if you’re pissed at me. I didn’t realize—and then I thought maybe—” She dropped her hands, as if to keep them from wiping at the tears that still hadn’t stopped. “I need . . . I really need someone to talk to right now.”

He pulled out a chair for her and brushed her arm with just his fingertips, guiding her toward it. He kept his voice gentle, the hint of gravel at the bottom of it nothing he could control. “Don’t you worry about me; I’ll be just fine. Why don’t you sit down and tell me what brings you to my door, needing an ear?”

She dropped into the chair with a hard exhale. “My dad.”

LJ crossed the kitchen and ripped off a paper towel for her, anger threatening deep in his gut as he handed it over. His tone dropped half an octave when he answered. “Yeah, don’t apologize for him. It ain’t no thing.” He straightened, the skin tight across his cheekbones. “Men never want their white daughters taking up with black dudes, especially not when they’re the hired help. That’s older than this country.”