He frowned, as if thinking back. “Box cutter.”
Box cutter.
Box cutter
.
“Gabe.” She wanted to shake him, slap him, scream for mercy, but all she could do was say his name and hold tight to his hand. “Gabe.”
He smiled, as charming as any angel seeking entrance into hell. It was obvious the discussion of the bandage and the box cutter was already forgotten. “Is so true, Froo’ Loop. I so want to do you.” Then he slipped his hand from hers so he could roll to his side and drop back into sleep.
Cassandra hastily stood, then stepped back, putting space between herself and the man she’d been trying to save for nearly two years.
I so don’t want to do this anymore
, she thought.
I so can’t do this anymore
. Because there was no longer a way to fool herself that there wouldn’t come a day when she couldn’t rescue him.
Backing up, she kept her eyes on his sleeping form sprawled across her bed. The cat at his head was snuggled against the nape of his neck now. The other two were draped across his limbs—one on his arm, one over his thigh—keeping him close like she’d always wanted to. Gabe was where she’d always imagined him in her deepest, darkest, sweetest fantasies, but it was going to be a one-time, no-touch night.
It had taken her two years to figure out, but now she knew that if she let him any closer to her heart his self-destructive bent was going to make her collateral damage.
Meaning it was past time for Cassandra Riley to rescue herself.