I loosen my grip of his neck to show my willingness and be begins lowering me down into the car. I shift on the soft leather until my shoulder is resting against the seat and I'm facing the driver's side.
My head falls against the seat and my eyes close of their own accord. In no time at all, the driver door shuts and Feng Teng scent invades my nose. I open my eyes and adjust my vision until I'm confronted with a pitiful eyes. I feel pitiful. I'm a hopeless, pathetic waif of a woman who has caused all of this chaos, pain and aching to him. Over. We can't do this to each other. The thought makes my heart rate slow.
He reaches over and brushes my cheek with his knuckles.
"Stop," he orders, wiping another tear away, but I'm not crying with hurt anymore. I'm crying in desperation.
