Ricochet (Addicted, #2)

by Krista Ritchie

He approaches her like a man tiptoeing towards a sleeping lion. “Rose,” he breathes. “Darling…” She’s shaking. Her arms tremble, and her eyes keep growing wider and wider. “She’s wrong,” Rose whispers. I can practically hear her chant in her head: I’m not like her. I’m not like her. Connor closes the gap between them, and his hands touch her face, holding her cheeks, and gently soothing the reddened one with a soft stroke. “Look at me, hun.” Rose tries to push him off. “Why…” She keeps shaking her head, but he holds her tight, trying to make her focus. “I’m right here,” he tells her. She weakly tries to push him off again, not really wanting to, and he grabs her hand. “I don’t need you,” she reminds him. But the silent tears start flowing. She’s crying in front of him, actually letting Connor see her cracks. I wonder if the emotions are too hard to bottle since she drank so much. “I don’t need you,” she repeats, her voice breaking. “You’re right,” he says softly. “You don’t need a man, Rose.” He pauses and I barely hear him whisper, “But you do need me.” She looks down and then back at him, her lashes wet and glistening, making her face look more porcelain and delicate than I ever remember. “What are you doing here?” she asks with the shake of her head. “You shouldn’t be here.” Her tears drip on his hands, both rising back to her face. He tucks a flyaway piece of hair behind her ear, and his eyes graze the welt on her cheek. “A little bird told me you were upset.” Rose let...

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