“So you believe in love and all that accompanies it? Undying loyalty, fidelity and trust?”

“Of course. Don’t you?”

He seemed genuinely confused that she spoke so blithely of such an important issue. And she supposed it was important to other people. Just not to her. Love to her was a four-letter word and not the good kind. She’d seen the many manifestations of love in her lifetime and she wasn’t sold on the concept, even if her two best friends were disgustingly happy and head over heels in love with their husbands. She saw Chessy’s unhappiness and knew that love wasn’t a cure-all and that in fact, love was often a complication. It certainly wasn’t an inconvenience she wanted to suffer.

Love meant giving up the essential part of herself. Her trust. And that wasn’t given lightly to anyone. Loving someone meant making yourself vulnerable. It meant placing your emotional well-being into another’s hands. No thanks. She’d seen the turmoil Joss had suffered as she and Dash had struggled in their relationship. She saw the effects of love in Chessy’s eyes. Saw the hurt and pain brought to you by the letter L. Love.

She finally shook her head when she realized he was waiting for an answer to his question.

“I’m not saying I don’t believe in it, I guess. I mean obviously Joss loves Dash and he loves her. She loved Carson and Carson loved her. And while I know Chessy is currently unhappy, I do know that she loves Tate and that Tate loves her. But love is messy and complicated. It seems much simpler and safer to just avoid that kind of emotional entanglement.”

“You’re a hard-core cynic,” he murmured. “I hadn’t realized just how much of one you were. You’re going to be a tough nut to crack, baby, but I’m up for the task. I’ve never backed down from a challenge and I don’t plan to start now.”

She stared incredulously at him. The things she’d said to him had sent every other man she’d ever attempted to date running for the door like the hounds of hell were after them. And yet Jensen wasn’t remotely put off by her “issues.” If anything they seemed to make him more determined to break through those walls she’d erected. Walls that had been solidly in place her entire adult life and most of her childhood.

She’d learned at a very young age how to protect her mind, her sanity. To shut out the world around her and stay in self-preservation mode. It had served her well, but had made personal relationships impossible. Because who wanted to deal with such a head case, much less make a commitment to one?

She glanced down at her plate, surprised to see it was empty, then she looked over at Jensen’s to find he too was finished. What now? Once again, she felt the awkwardness of not knowing what came next.

The movie. He had a movie. The plan was to eat dinner and watch a movie. Simple enough. She could handle that.

“You ready for the movie?” she asked, proud of the initiative she took. “I’ll just put the plates in the sink and wash them later. Why don’t you go start up the movie and I’ll bring us both a glass of wine, unless you’d prefer something else?”

“Wine is fine. Your company is what I want most. Anything else is just bonus material.”

Damn it. What to even say to that? He was seducing her with mere words and that heart-melting, warm, fuzzy smile he sent her way every so often. He hadn’t even tried to get into her pants and they were already halfway down.

Disgusted with her raging hormones—why had they picked now to rear their ugly head?—she took the plates and did a quick rinse before leaving them in the sink to take care of later.

She took a moment to compose herself and calm her racing pulse down. It was just a movie. For God’s sake, get it together.

She poured two glasses of wine, though she had no intention of drinking hers. She’d already had her limit and the last thing she wanted was a fuzzy head. Jensen did that to her all on his own. No alcohol needed, though the liquid courage aspect might be appealing.

When she entered the living room, Jensen was leaning back on the couch looking very much at home. The remote was in his hand and he had the movie paused at the beginning. She didn’t even know what they were watching. Did it matter? She doubted she’d remember much of it anyway.

He held out his hand to her, not for the wine, but to take her hand once she placed the glasses on the coffee table. She allowed him to slide his fingers through hers and pull her gently to the couch beside him.

“There, that’s better,” he murmured. “Now the evening can begin.”

“What are we watching?” she asked.

“Some zombie apocalypse movie,” he said with a twist of his lips. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I had to be careful with my selection so you didn’t read anything into my choice or my intentions.”

“So should I worry that you’ll bite me and infect me with some virulent strain of some super virus?” she said dryly.

He chuckled. “I like your sense of humor, Kylie. It fits mine well. Though some would likely argue that neither of us has one. But I think we fit just fine.”

Her cheeks warmed because no, no one had ever accused her of having a sense of humor, twisted or not.

He laid his arm over the top of the couch, a silent invitation for her to move closer. She hesitated at first, not wanting to be obvious, but she found herself gravitating to the warmth and strength of his body.

Soon she was cuddled up next to him, his arm hung loosely over her shoulders. His fingers danced idly over her upper arm, eliciting a trail of chill bumps. His touch was like fire, even through her shirt. She tried to focus on the movie but found herself increasingly distracted by her proximity to his body.

At one point she turned to look at him only to find him staring intently at her, his eyes glowing. So very warm. Comforting. Unconsciously she leaned in, not even realizing what she was doing. He met her advance and brushed his lips softly across hers.

It was an electrical shock to her system. She shivered uncontrollably and then he deepened the kiss, his tongue swiping over her lips, licking and then sliding inside to brush over hers.

He tasted of the wine they’d drunk. That and something altogether different. Heady. Masculine. The taste was undefinable. But she liked it. A lot.

She breathed out a soft sigh as his arms wrapped around her, turning her more solidly so the angle was better. His lips never left hers, his mouth devouring hers hungrily.

She was lost in a cascade of sensation, dizzying, intensely pleasurable and also warm and soothing. Her breasts ached, pressed flat against his chest. Her nipples beaded, pushing outward as if begging for his attention. His mouth.

Shocked that she’d have such a thought, she went still, the strong beat of his heart thudding against her chest. His respirations were fast, rushing into her mouth and over her face.

And then he lowered her to the couch, angling his body over hers, pressing hard and heavy down on her. Panic snaked up her spine as dark memories surfaced, clawing their way to the present.

She lost her sense of awareness. Of where she was and who she was with. All she knew was that she was in immediate danger. His strength overwhelmed her. She felt helpless. Weak. Unable to prevent whatever he wanted to do to her.

Blackness gushed through her mind, wiping away all sense of euphoria and safety. Her chest caught on fire as she desperately tried to breathe but found no air. Her throat constricted as she tried to scream. To beg him to stop. To have mercy. Not to hurt her.

And then self-preservation kicked in and she began to fight. She went wild beneath this predator, wanting only to escape the harm he intended. She scratched, kicked, and finally was able to gather enough breath to scream.

Hysteria rose sharp, quickly overwhelming her. She was unaware of the firm hands around her wrists, holding them so she couldn’t hurt him or herself. Of the soothing voice calling her name. Telling her it was all right.

She dimly registered those things, but they were so distant. All she was cognizant of was her will to survive. Not to ever again endure what she’d endured before.

Tears bathed her face and she became aware of a high keening sound. It was coming from her. God, it was her making that god-awful sound. Why wouldn’t it stop?

“Kylie! Kylie! Listen to me. It’s me, Jensen. You’re safe, baby. God, please come back to me. I won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you.”

The entire room was spinning like some crazy Tilt-A-Whirl at the fair. Nausea rose, swift and violent, and she bolted upward, the bands around her wrists suddenly gone.

She hunched over in a protective position, shielding her most vulnerable parts. Her ribs, her belly, places that could easily be injured. Wetness soaked into her shirt sleeves and she realized she was sobbing. Giant, silent sobs welling from the deepest recesses of her chest.

A strong hand hesitantly touched her shoulder and she flinched, turning, determined to ward off an attack.

“Kylie, God, baby. It’s me. Please, baby. Look at me. See me.”

Jensen’s worried plea broke through the haze. Some of the panic dissipated, leaving her with only humiliation and abject despair. She was broken. Broken. Unfixable. Nothing would ever be right. Not for her. Never again.

She buried her face in her arms and rocked back and forth, too mortified to even look at him. How crazy he must think she was. Not think. Knew.

“Please, just go away,” she begged, her voice muffled by her arms. “Please. I can’t bear it. I’m so sorry. Just go. Please. I’m sorry.”