Beneath This Ink (Beneath #2)(46)

“Whoa, princess.” The words were the same as those he’d spoken only a few seconds before, but this time his tone was hushed, careful. Like he was worried he was going to watch me lose it again like I had in the elevator.

I fought back the tears and cleared my throat.

“Do you have a shower I can use? I’m disgusting.”

I felt the heat of his body against my back before I even realized he’d stood. For a moment I expected a smart-ass comment, and then realized I was operating on my old assumptions. He’d been nothing short of amazing tonight—a stand-up guy beneath all the ink that colored my and society’s judgment of him.

“You can use whatever you want. Including me, if that’s what you need.”

Jesus. I was so transparent. “It’s not… I mean… Never mind.” I breathed deeply and took a half step forward, but Con’s arms wrapped around me from behind and yanked me back against his chest.

He whispered against my hair, “Maybe I need it, too.”

I squirmed, and he loosened his arms, as though preparing to drop them. I twisted around to face him. His deep blue eyes lowered to mine. “Then don’t make me shower alone,” I whispered.

I ran a hand down his rippling bicep, skimmed along the colorful tattoos on his ropey forearm, and laced my fingers with his. I wasn’t sure if he was going to take me up on my invitation until he squeezed my hand, trapping my palm against his.

His voice was rough when he said, “Follow me.”

I began to second-guess my offer as soon as we hit the bathroom—at the exact moment I realized he was going to see me naked under the bright lights. No dimly lit bedroom. No covers to hide under.

Shit.

He reached for the light switch, and I almost sighed in relief when he slid the dimmer to illuminate the bathroom only halfway.

He’d still see me, but with the distraction of the water and the dim light, I’d be able to hide some of my flaws.

Con tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it to the gray travertine floor and reached inside the glass enclosure to turn on the shower.

All thoughts of my body issues evaporated when I stared at him. My eyes feasted on the tanned and inked skin stretched over ridges of defined muscle. It’d been two years since I’d last seen him shirtless, and he’d definitely made some changes. He was still as ripped as he’d been then, but there were more tattoos. I’d be hard pressed to pick and choose exactly which were new, because unfortunately I didn’t have a photographic memory.

Although I did find it hard to believe I’d ever forget what I was seeing right now.

“Your turn, princess.”

Uh. What?

He’d turned back to me, and I’d been so caught up in cataloging the ripple of his obliques and flex of his pecs, I’d completely forgotten what I was doing.

I dragged my eyes from his chest up to his smirking lips. He’d clearly taken note of my detailed inspection.

He stepped toward me, and every muscle in my body clenched, including the inner ones.

Moving slowly, as though waiting for me to back away or protest, his huge hands drifted to the hem of my scrub top. When I stayed still, he slipped both hands beneath it, skimming up the curves of my waist and ribs, raising the shirt as he went.

“Arms up.”

Inhaling sharply, I complied with his command, and my vision went dark for a moment as he pulled it up and over my head. Wearing only the strapless bra that had been necessary for my cocktail dress, I stood in front of him. This time it was his eyes that strayed—or rather caught on my chest as it lifted with my heaving breaths.

Heaving bosoms.

I don’t know where the thought came from, but it was so ridiculous I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped.

Con froze, hands hovering just inches from my sides.

“You about to lose your shit, sweetheart? Because we can stop right here, and I’ll pretend I’m a gentleman for once in my life, and leave you to shower in peace.”

Trying—and failing—to wipe the slight smile off my face, I said, “It’s not that. I’m…just ignore me.”

This time he chuckled. “Like I’ve tried to ignore you for years? Hasn’t worked yet. Doubt it’ll work now.” His eyes dropped meaningfully and lingered on my body. “Especially when I’ve got you almost naked, and I’m f*cking sober this time.”

All humor fled my brain. There was one thing I had to know; I’d been wondering about it for way too long.

“Would you have taken me home that night if you hadn’t been drinking? I always assumed that the only reason you’d forgotten you hated me was because of the booze.”

The backs of three fingers skimmed up the bare skin of my arm, leaving goose bumps in their wake.

“I’ve never hated you. That’s the problem.”

I jerked my gaze away from his hand and looked up into his blazing blue eyes.

“But in high school—”

“Thought we already covered the fact that the chip on my shoulder is big enough for Evel Knievel to use to jump a dozen school busses.”

“So—”

“The way I grew up, it’s easier—hell, safer—to pretend you don’t want something than it is to admit how you really feel.”

“Oh,” I whispered. “I always thought…”