Where the Sun Hides (Seasons of Betrayal #1)(46)

It made her aware of his intentions fully.

And it made her hot.

She knew what he had done immediately.

He lied—he had the couth to do it, he just didn’t want to, and so he did it in his with his own style.

“Well played,” Violet whispered.

Kaz winked. “I thought so.”

He continued his work of undoing the buttons on his dress shirt as if she wasn't watching him like it was the most interesting thing she’d seen all day and he wasn't the least bit bothered by her attention. Or that she had a better view of the tattoos on his fingers, like the circle with a dot in the middle, or the cross on a dark background—she wondered what they meant. As he pulled the shirt off entirely, Violet’s mouth went dry. The white fabric hung loosely from his fist as Kaz turned slightly, giving her a full view of the artwork she had only gotten a bare glimpse of earlier.

There were the twin stars inked just beneath his collarbone, one on either side of his chest, but what captured her attention the most were the three Russian cathedral domes tattooed on his chest. They were tattooed with incredible detail, as though the artist had spent hours painstakingly crafting each one. But despite how much space the tattoo took up on his chest, it was the only one she could see besides the stars.

Despite how easily she could get caught up in his tattoos and what they might mean to him, her gaze was quickly taking in the rest of his bare chest, too. The slight tease of his shirts stretching across his pecs and hinting at what was beneath did not do him justice. The man was cut—defined ridges and a hard “V” where his pants hung low on his hips that demanded exploring, especially that light dusting of dark hair that disappeared below his waistline.

Jesus.

Kaz was goddamn gorgeous.

She decided the eight-pointed stars were her favorite, though.

Kaz caught her staring again, but Violet wasn’t the least bit ashamed. “See something you like?”

His arrogance was amusing. Most men thought themselves as confident, mysterious, and cocky all rolled into one, but they just came off as *s. Kaz didn’t even have to try, he was all those things rolled into one—including the *, sometimes—and Violet liked it a lot.

“Yes,” she said, shrugging.

“Straightforward, are you?”

“I’m not a liar, Kaz.”

What else did he expect?

“Do they mean something?” she asked, her stare dropping down to his tattoos again.

“Yes,” Kaz said.

“What?”

“It’s a story. Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

“What story?” she asked.

“Mine.”

Violet stilled when Kaz moved directly in front of her, almost crowding her. He lifted his right hand, and his fingers skimmed under the collar of the bomber jacket she wore.

Quietly but surely, he asked, “Can I?”

She nodded.

Kaz pulled at the collar of her jacket until it started to fall down her arms. Once the item hit the floor, his attention was back on her. His fingers grazed her neck with a soft touch, surprising her.

“Not shy,” he said, almost like a reminder.

His softness was gone just like that. The pads of his fingers pressed into her collarbones and traveled lower to the neckline of her tank-top, wicked and promising. A huskiness colored up his tone, making her shiver.

Violet shook her head. “Not shy, Kaz.”

How could she be shy under his regard when he was making it seem like she was the one and only thing he wanted to look at?

Again, Kaz stepped closer. He was so close that she could feel the warmth of his chest brush her arm as he leaned slightly to the side and tossed his white shirt into a small garbage bin behind them.

“Blood doesn’t wash out,” he said, more to himself than to her.

Violet was still listening. “Shame. I liked that shirt.”

She could almost see his smirk when he replied, “I think you liked the person wearing it more.”

“Maybe. But maybe not.”

“You’ll never tell, huh?”

Violet turned her head, catching his eye with her own. “Nope.”

Apparently, that look was all Kaz needed. Violet barely took a breath just a blink before his mouth was on hers. Her lips parted the second his tongue struck at the seam, demanding entrance. His hand landed to her waist as his other caught her right under her jaw. Her back hit a row of shelves as her hand grabbed the belt at his waist. He tipped her head back, and his hand slid lower on her throat.

Because those hands—she liked his hands.

But it was his tongue seeking hers, and his groan building deep in the back of his throat that made her ache.

Kaz pulled back, just enough to let her take in a sharp breath. He was still close enough that his stubble scraped her lips as he watched her under dark, lowered lashes.

What was he waiting for?

What did he want?

Violet didn’t have the patience to be tampered and teased. She let her fingers unfurl from his belt, and her fingernails dragged down his stomach, insistent and firm. Kaz crowded her again, letting her feel the hard length of his erection digging into her body.

“So sweet,” he murmured.

Violet blinked. “Am I?”

“Your mouth. It makes me wonder what else might taste sweet on you.”