Superb and Sexy (Sky High Air #3)(23)

He stared at the huge, high four-poster bed barely visible through the heaping piles of pillows and soft, luxurious bedding done up in, indeed, pink lace. “It’s…”

“Girly. I know. It’s my arm and shoulder, Brody. Not my legs.”

As if mesmerized, he moved to the bed. The headboard was an old brown barn door, lacquered to a high shine. Above it, a lasso hung on the wall in the shape of a halo. “Wow.”

She wriggled, and he slowly, carefully set her down in the center of the froufrou setup.

She had to remind herself that she was playing weak and hurt in order to get him out of her hair. But damn, the hardest thing she’d ever done was allow herself to sag back as if she didn’t have the energy to even get beneath the covers.

“You’re surrounded by mountains of pink.” He looked confused. “And miles of lace. You.”

She shouldn’t have been insulted, but she was. “It’s ridiculous, I realize that.”

“No, it’s—”

“I didn’t pick it out, okay?” If he smiled, she was going to kill him.

“Okay.” His mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. Smart man. “Your sister’s staying here with you?”

“Sort of.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell us you had a sister?”

Us. As in him, Noah, and Shayne. She wondered if the word choice was a subtle way of distancing himself, of being just someone from work.

Distance worked for her. “Why should I have? She doesn’t affect my ability to do my job.”

“Maddie.”

The low, soft chiding tone to his voice cut right through her righteousness and unexpectedly left her feeling stripped bare. Closing her eyes, she lay back, suddenly not having to fake being weak.

And stupid.

Let’s not forget very, very stupid. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to someone…”

“Caring?”

“Yes.”

“Well, at least you know I do care. I’ll take that as a good sign. Now if I could just get you to stop kicking at me.”

God, she knew it. “I’m sorry for that, too. And I’m sorry I said we weren’t friends.”

The light that came into his eyes would have warmed her soul if not for the knowledge that soon, she was leaving. For good. “I’m tired,” she whispered, throat tight. “I’m going to rest.” Lifting her arm, she settled it over her eyes to keep her from being tempted to keep looking at him, needing her fill.

But then she felt his hands on her foot, and then came the rasp of a zipper before he tugged her boot off.

And her other.

Which left her bare feet in his big, work-roughened palms. He took in her toenails, painted purple today, which didn’t mean anything except she’d been bored the other night. She had a silver ring on her second toe, which didn’t mean anything either. Nothing around her meant much, especially lately, and honestly, she was getting a little worried about that.

She needed something to mean something. And she wished it could be him. God, she wished that she could stop pushing and just let him in, really in.

Then his thumb skimmed over her instep, and she felt the touch in all the places she shouldn’t. She did her best not to melt under his touch, once again asking him the burning question of the day. “Where did you learn to fight?”

His eyes met hers, stubborn to the depths. “Where did you?”

“Do you always answer a question with another question?”

He sighed. “I grew up in Compton. Skinny little white boys didn’t fare so well unless they knew how to protect themselves.”

Staring up into his inscrutable face, she tried to see any of that vulnerability that must have been a part of him then. “You don’t talk about your family.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because.” When she just looked at him, he gave in. “My parents were barely able to score their next fix, much less worry about their street brat.”

“I see.” She knew it’d been bad, she just didn’t know how bad. She’d been lusting after the tall, enigmatic, gorgeous pilot for what, nearly a year now, and yet in all that time, she’d never seen him as anything less than a sure, steady, sharp, sophisticated man, a man who could, by turns, make her laugh, want to tear her hair out in both lust and temper, and in general, drive her mad.

She’d never pictured him doing as she had, overcoming mountains of shit to be where he was, and that was her selfish shame. “So you learned how to fight out of necessity.”

“Survival of the fittest.”

And he was fit. Incredibly so. Mouthwateringly so. But to find out it wasn’t just lucky genetics or a love of a good gym seemed to give him a whole new dimension for her to chew on.

“Now you,” he said.

“Classes,” she admitted. No need to hide that. “I learned to fight in classes. Lots and lots of classes.”

“Why?”

“A girl needs to be able to protect herself.”

He took that in, his gaze never leaving hers. “A girl shouldn’t have to. Especially a young girl. How old were you?”

“When I what?”

“Needed to know how to defend yourself.”