Daxton’s POV
‘Was I wrong?’ I ask, keeping my features neutral as I wait for the woman across from me to answer.
I watch as her lips part, that sinful tongue that did wicked things to my body only hours ago, darting out to moisten the dryness as a thousand emotions flicker across her face.
She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out and her lips snap shut again, the spitfire I’m used to long gone it seems. Now I’m faced with a woman who looks terrified and I’m second guessing my desire to confront her about her disappearing act. Maybe I should have waited, given her the time she obviously wanted to sort through her feelings.
Just as I’m about to gather up my bag and leave, her voice comes out in barely a whisper.
‘No’ she murmurs, her eyes pinned to the cup in her hand, ‘you weren’t wr
