Barely Breathing(26)

“What does he do there?”

Kane smiled. “I don’t ask, remember?”

“Not asking is different than not knowing.”

He grunted and arched his brows. “You sound like a lawyer.”

“I’m so curious. Marcus seems really . . . bland. He’s just all blond and friendly. He plays tennis and reads The Wall Street Journal.”

Kane hummed skeptically. “He might seem bland, but he’s not.”

“He’s kinky, isn’t he? I knew it!”

“I didn’t say that. You inferred it.”

I finished the last bite of chicken I had room for a pushed my plate a couple inches away.

“Well, is he?”

“I don’t talk about clients, Viv. Not to anyone. Not even to Jeff, unless there’s a good reason for it.”

I sighed and gave him a mock frown. “I respect that. I’ve got the same deal with my clients.”

“I’m glad you’re not involved with Marcus, let’s just say that.”

“I thought you were glad because you want me.”

“I am. And I do.” He held my gaze and my body heated as I remembered our last encounter in his office.

I finished the last of my wine and picked up Kane’s still-full glass.

“You don’t like the wine? Do you want something else?”

“Water would be good. The wine’s fine, I just don’t drink much.”

He stood and started clearing dishes from the table.

“Let me do that,” I said, handing him a bottle of water.

“Nah. I can help.”

We stood side by side at my sink, him washing and me drying and putting away. Seeing him elbow-deep in dishwater made me smile.

“What’s funny?” he asked.

“I’m not laughing.”

“Viv, what’s so damn funny?” He scowled at me.

“Just you washing dishes. It’s cute.”

Now he was smiling, too. “That’s the first time in my life I’ve been called cute.”

“You just aren’t a man I picture washing dishes.”

“What, you think I just smash ‘em all against the wall when I’m done eating?”

“No.” I shook my head and laughed. “I don’t know.”

“I really don’t have many dishes at home. I usually eat at the club.”

“Where do you live?” I asked him.

He hesitated for a split second before answering. “I actually live in a really unimpressive back room of a gym near the club.”

“Sounds convenient. But why a gym?”

He shrugged. “Just because I own the building.”

“Nice,” I said. “So you’re managing to live rent free in New York City? That’s like a miracle or something.”

“Pretty much. The rent I make on the building covers the taxes and insurance and then some.”

“That building had to cost a mint.”

“I actually got it by assuming the tax bill.”

My lips parted as I looked up at him in admiration. “Very savvy.”

He grunted skeptically. “I don’t know about that.”

I watched as he picked up a pink checkered dishtowel and dried his hands off on it. His hands were big, the dark hair on his corded forearms ending just past his wrists. There was something very sweet and sexy about seeing those hands on such a dainty towel.

He hung the towel back up and leaned back against the counter, arms folded. Excited anticipation swirled in my stomach.

I was suddenly self-conscious as I stood before him. I sensed he wasn’t a novice in the bedroom. I wasn’t, either, but still . . . would I measure up? Not just to the other women he’d been with, but to his vision of what I’d be like. When he looked at me, his dark, fiery gaze full of hunger for me, I felt sexier than I ever had. He made me feel like I could undo him with a single touch. And I wanted to, more than anything.

“You’re nervous,” he said, reaching a hand out and wrapping it around my hip. He pulled me close and slid his other hand around to my backside. “Don’t be.”

I rested my palms on his solid, warm chest. I’d never been so overwhelmed by my attraction to a man, and I’d also never felt something so undeniably right. Kane had let me inside his walls. He’d shed his armor of intimidation, exposing himself to me in an intimate way. I didn’t know him extremely well yet, but I knew he was letting me see the real him. The non-defensive, non-pissed off at the world him.

Sometimes I felt like I was still finding the real me, even at the age of twenty-eight. Whoever I was, I wanted Kane to see me. When he touched me and spoke in that low, sexy voice of his, I felt a little closer to knowing myself. I wanted him. I didn’t care how right or wrong anyone else thought we were together.

He kissed me, nipping at my lower lip and brushing the tip of his tongue against mine. Everything else disappeared as I let myself get consumed by him. There was only the hard warmth of him, the sweet smoky smell of him and the minty taste of him. He’d slipped a breath mint in somewhere. Sneaky.

I let my hands wander up the bottom of his t-shirt in front, over the ridges of ab muscles to his taut, defined chest. It was hairy and I liked it.

The low rumble of his groan reached my fingertips and I pulled back, about to suggest we go to my bedroom.