Clipped Wings by Helena Hunting Page A

and a coffee table with tattoo magazines and custom albums.
    She had a few books and a white box tucked under one arm, her messenger bag slung over the opposite shoulder. She graced me with one of her timid smiles, then settled in a chair and leafed through one of my custom albums while she waited.
    I cashed out my client and turned my attention to Tenley. Her legs were folded underneath her, hair shielding her face. She wasn’t looking at the custom album anymore; it was lying on the table beside her. Her focus was still fixed on her lap, though. She looked more at ease than she had the last time she’d been here.
    I crossed the room and hovered over her, waiting for her to notice and acknowledge my presence. When she didn’t, I leaned in, interested in whatever absorbed her attention. Tenley’s head snapped up and her eyes widened when she came face-to-face with me, my nose almost touching hers.
    “Interesting reading?” I asked, straightening.
    Tenley murmured something unintelligible and flipped a sketch pad closed. The breathless quality of her voice had an immediate physical impact. Not ideal, considering she was eye level with my groin. Which was exactly where her eyes went. She whispered the same curse that went through my head. Flailing, Tenley shot up out of the chair.
    She hadn’t accounted for my proximity. As she rose, the entirety of her lithe little frame brushed against me. I bit my tongue so I didn’t groan out loud at the sensation. It felt like a power surge running through my body, centered in my pants.
    “I brought the design.” She rushed the words.
    So she was going with the ignore-it-and-it-doesn’t-exist tactic. I should have been embarrassed by my inability to control my bodily reaction to her, and I was, sort of. But I didn’t take a step back, not even when she held the sketch pad up in front of my face. Noticing the absence of gauze, I took her hand in mine and lowered the pad so I could see her face again.
    Tenley met my probing gaze. In those fleeting seconds, I uncovered more of what I’d glimpsed in the basement. The curiosity, the need and the fury. The first two were an echo of my own emotions. The fury made her look away. It made me want to know its origin. I stored her sketch pad under my arm and turned her palm over, interested to see what she’d been hiding under the gauze the last time I saw her. The side of her hand was covered in a crosshatch of barely healed red scars.
    “What did you do to yourself?” I asked softly, not expecting an answer, since she’d avoided giving one last time. I ran my thumb over the sensitive scar tissue. I wanted to kiss it better, so I did. Because I was stupid and had no impulse control. Fear swam in her eyes, mixed with longing. It was a dangerous combination. She made me feel the same way, only I reacted differently. The fear I completely ignored, and the other emotion funneled into my hormones.
    “Tenley! I’m so glad you’re here! That new jewelry came in this afternoon like I promised.” Lisa broke through my lust-induced fog.
    Tenley snatched her hand away, severing the connection.
    “She’s here to show me her design,” I said, irritated by Lisa’s inopportune interruption and my own inability to keep my hands and my mouth to myself.
    “You can have her when I’m done,” Lisa said, giving me a look that told me not to push it.
    Most of the time I would do as she dictated, but I wasn’t in much of a mood to follow directions from anyone tonight, even Lisa. She helped Tenley gather her things, including the white box. It looked suspiciously like the ones Cassie used to transport treats, more specifically, cupcakes.
    “What have you got there?” I asked in a frail attempt to keep Tenley from being dragged off by Lisa. She was supposed to be here to see me, and I didn’t want to share.
    “Nothing.” Tenley held the box protectively against her chest. Now I really wanted to know what was inside.
    “I can hold on to that