OVERPROTECTED by Jennifer Laurens Read Free Book Online Page B

could never hear it let alone create music in some organized way. I’m impressed.”

    I accepted the compliment with a nod, and tight muscles began to relax. “Thank you.” I pressed my fingers to the keys again.

    “I felt the music.” His eyes followed my fingers. “I guess I was exposed to another side of music.”

    I tried to deal with the emotions flooding my system. To be spontaneously taking him in as the tune ebbed from my soul took my heart to a dangerously vulnerable place. “I like contemporary music, too. Mom’s favorite is disco.”

    He laughed. “I can’t see your mom liking disco.”

    The sound of his laugh relaxed the taut muscles of my back. I continued to let the tune out, even as I stole glances at his face. The musical chords changed. The gentle expression in his brown eyes comforted my exposed nerves, and caused my fingers to find minor chords in enticing harmony.

    “Dad tolerates my music,” I said, fingers chasing each other up the shifting keyboard. “He’ll listen because he wants to support me, but I catch him checking email on his phone a lot of the time.” I replayed the tune still fresh in my head—Colin’s song.

    He listened, and when I finished, our eyes met. Silence echoed after the music.

    My heart pounded so hard, I thought it might be visible through my robe. My robe—I forgot what I was wearing. My hair. No makeup. I was getting ready for bed when I’d been compelled to create. Aghast, my cheeks burned. I stood. Had he purposefully come in to see me like this, to catch me with my guard down?

    “You reminded me of when you were little, just then,” he said, joining me. “With your hair back like that.”

    I gathered my notes and went around the other side of the piano to avoid him. He caught up with me, skimming my arm with gentle fingers. “Is something wrong?”

    “It’s late. I’m going to bed.” Brushing past him, I was out the door before he could say anything else.

    “Ashlyn,” he whispered in the darkened hall, staying right at my side. When I didn’t respond, he reached for my arm. I froze and he dropped his hand. “What? What did I do?”

    I swallowed. The dim lighting of the hall cast half of his face in a soft light. Had he really forgotten how he’d treated me? Did he think I had forgotten?

    I continued to my bedroom, ready to bolt inside, ready to slam the door in his face, but he stepped into the opening.

    “I don’t understand. Did I say something wrong about your music? I’m sorry.” His expression twisted in confusion.

    My pounding heart wouldn’t slow. His presence boomed with his every breath, each flash of his eyes. I’d read scenes like this in my romance novels. The heroine cornered by the hero, the two of them locked in a love hate heat.

    Colin’s hands lifted, and held in the door jamb. “Whatever I did,”

    he said softly, “I apologize. I really enjoyed your music. I—”

    “This isn’t about my music,” I blurted.

    He cringed, glancing around as if to signal to me that my voice was too loud and might carry. His expression shifted from confused to sober, and his brown eyes stared into mine. I couldn’t feel my heart beating. I wasn’t sure I was even breathing.

    “What’s wrong?” His whisper slipped into my soul, just like it had countless times before, and wound around my tender heart.

    “You really don’t know?” I forced sarcasm into my tone.

    He shook his head.

    I finally had the moment to hurt him, or try to, like he’d hurt me so many times before. But when I thought about bringing up the way he’d teased me, I realized how childish I would sound.

    He waited, his hands tightening on the wood. He had no clue the damage he’d caused when we were children. None. I was baffled. How does someone trudge through life so narcissistic that they toss people and their feelings aside without care or thought or comeuppance? Or was I over sensitive, taking good-natured teasing too