Reborn Embrace: Taming the Possessive Tycoon

A scream clawed its way up Carolyn Lindsey's throat, but it died as a choked gasp before it could find air.

Her eyes flew open, pupils shrinking to pinpricks against the dim morning light.

Her fingers dug into the sheets beneath her. Silk. Cool and impossibly smooth. Not the coarse, burning fabric of the curtains she'd wrapped around herself as the flames ate the world alive.

She sucked in a breath, then another, her lungs aching with the effort. Cold sweat plastered her thin nightgown to her skin. Her gaze darted around, slowly making sense of the shapes in the darkness. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling like a frozen starburst. Towering windows draped in heavy velvet. This wasn't the smoke-filled ruins of the estate.

This was the master bedroom in Chandler Finch's penthouse.

The mattress beside her dipped. A wave of cold, sharp cedarwood scent washed over her, a smell so familiar it made her stomach clench. It was his scent. Chandler's.

"Another nightmare?" His voice, rough with sleep and laced with its usual brand of cutting amusement, sliced through the quiet. "What are you planning on breaking this time?"

Carolyn's head snapped toward the sound. Her eyes met his, a pair of gray-blue irises as cold and stormy as the Atlantic. The sight of him, propped up on one elbow, his bare chest defined by shadows, sent a violent tremor through her. He was alive. He was here. The terror of the fire and the dizzying relief of this reality crashed together inside her chest, a collision so powerful it stole her breath again.

This time, she didn't scream. She didn't throw the lamp on the nightstand at his head like she had two weeks ago. She didn't spit venomous words designed to wound him.

Her lips trembled. A single, hot tear escaped and traced a path down her temple. Then another. They came without a sound, a silent, desperate flood.

Chandler's brow furrowed. The amusement in his eyes vanished, replaced by a guarded suspicion. This was new. This quiet, broken reaction was not in her playbook. He instinctively shifted back an inch, a subtle retreat.

She saw it. That flicker of hurt and defense in his eyes, a detail she'd been blind to in her past life. It was the tell. The tiny crack in his marble facade.

Before he could pull away further, she moved.

Carolyn launched herself across the small space between them, throwing her arms around his waist and burying her face against his bare chest. She clung to him with a strength born of sheer terror.

His body went rigid, hard as stone beneath her cheek. She could feel the shock radiate through his muscles. His hands hovered in the air, uncertain, unwilling to touch her.

She didn't care. All she cared about was the steady, powerful thud of his heart against her ear. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. It was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. It was the sound of life.