“Hi,” I said. It was the only word I could latch on to. After a few breaths, Simon released me.

“Hello to you too.”

Knowing that I was standing next to the car looking like a slack-jawed idiot, I climbed inside and shut the door. A grin tugged at the corners of my mouth when I realized Simon was still standing next to the passenger door, staring at me through the window. Apparently the kiss had made idiots of us both.

I was still trying to rein my body’s reaction in when Simon finally pulled the SUV away from the curb in the direction of Harriet’s home. The silence between us was comfortable, but I needed music to distract me from where my thoughts were headed. I reached out to turn up the radio, and Simon slowed to let a group of pedestrians cross the road. He looked at me, brows drawn, and grabbed my right wrist.

“What the hell happened?”

I looked at him, confused. “I was just turning up…”

“No—your arm. Did you hurt yourself?”

I followed his gaze to where it rested on the gauze on the inside of my right bicep.

“Oh. Just adding to my collection.”

His brows shot up. “Another tat?”

My smile died as I studied his expression. Do not tell me he disapproves. Because I’d tell him where to get off. No one told me how to dress, how to wear my hair, or anything else any more. No one.

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” My tone took on a don’t fuck with me edge that I’d acquired shortly after I stepped onto the Greyhound in Atlanta just over a year ago and some asshole had decided I looked like easy prey. I’d kneed his balls up into his lungs when he’d tried to feel me up after I fell asleep on the bus. The memory fueled my temper.

“Nothing … I was just surprised.”

“One more tat put me too far over the bad girl edge for you, councilman?” The words felt like ground glass in my throat.

“Hey—that’s not fair. It’s not like that. I saw the bandage and … anyway, I think the ink is hot, so don’t get your back up.”

My quick rush of anger dissipated at his words. I relaxed into the seat as we started moving again. I felt like a bitch for overreacting and being so defensive. Especially after he’d just kissed the hell out of me. Just the thought of the kiss had heat starting to gather low in my belly.

“So what is it?” he asked.

He turned down my road and pulled into a rare empty parking spot across the street.

My answer came easily. “Why don’t you come up and I’ll show you?”

His hands flexed on the steering wheel, and he stared directly out the windshield. He nodded, as if deciding something. “I’ll get your door.”

Simon pushed my bike into the garden oasis and followed me up the spiral staircase to my apartment. I unlocked the door and held it open. When I flipped on the light, I tried to see my place through his eyes. It was tiny. Not much bigger than the bedroom I’d stayed in at his house. The living room was furnished with a love seat angled toward a small fireplace, a side table, and a lamp. The door to my bedroom was ajar, and my double bed looked like it barely fit inside. Calling one corner a “kitchen” was a bit of a stretch. There was a sink, a foot of counter space, a dorm-size fridge, and a microwave. A small table and two chairs were tucked into what I grandly referred to as the “breakfast nook.” In actuality, it was a corner behind the door.

“It’s not much, but I don’t need much. And I kind of love it.” Simon finished his visual tour, and focused on me, his hazel eyes burning with heat. He seemed even bigger in the small space, and the moment became undeniably intimate.

“This is probably too forward,” he started. “But I’m going to come right out and say it. I want you under me in that bed.” He nodded toward my room, as if the statement needed any clarification.

Whoa. That was forward. I swallowed, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. Well, hell. I wanted the same thing. I wasn’t denying it. I toed off my Chucks. “I guess if you play your cards right—”

He reached for one of my hands and cut me off. “But that’s not happening tonight.”

What the hell? Although this rejection didn’t sting as much as him leaving me floating naked in the pool, it still felt like rejection.

“Way to let a girl down easy, Simon.” I rubbed my hand over my face and tugged at the one in his grip. “Why did you come up then?”

He wouldn’t release my hand, instead using it to pull me closer. “You were going to show me your new tat. And you know why I can’t stay. It’s not because I don’t want to. Not because I don’t want you.”

The pieces clicked together in my brain. Damn. Sometimes I really was dense. My face heated again, this time with shame. “Oh, shit. I didn’t even think … I mean … Jesus, I’m such a bitch.”

“No, you’re not.” He twined his fingers with mine. “I’m glad you forgot.”

“I just … wasn’t thinking.”

“Then I’m glad I can make you stop thinking.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand. “I’m seeing someone—a shrink. So believe me when I say, I will be spending the night with you in that bed, but not quite yet.”

My gaze shot up to his. “Seriously? That’s good, right? I mean, I thought you didn’t want to talk to anyone about it.”

He brought our joined hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “I didn’t, but then I found something I wanted even more.”

“Oh.” It was the best I could do. I didn’t know how to respond to that. It was sort of huge. He wanted me enough to bare his soul to a perfect stranger in hopes of sorting out his issues? It was good to know I wasn’t the only one who was feeling something. Even if that feeling was dangerous to my very existence.

He nodded down at my arm. “Can I see the new tat?”

I untangled my hand from his and peeled away the gauze to uncover a black and gray Lady Justice, blindfolded, holding out her sword and balanced scales.

Simon studied it and then met my anxious gaze. “Why that?”

I gently skimmed the outline of the ink with a fingertip. It was a physical manifestation of the idea that had been percolating within me for days, and his confession about the shrink made me even more determined to go after it. He was facing his demons. It was time I did something to face mine.