Razed (Barnes Brothers #2)(19)

His cock was standing at attention by the time her gaze moved back up to meet his.

He turned away. Shirt. Needed. Now.

“Zach?”

“Yeah.” He headed down the hall, letting her come in and shut the door. “He’s about the only one who would have a chance of talking me into it. He needed the practice and the portfolio and all that jazz. You know how he is.”

“I’ve seen that design before. Zach has it pinned up in the gallery.” She paused and then added, “I didn’t realize it was you.”

“That’s because it’s just the tattoo.”

He grabbed his suitcase from the floor and hauled it onto the couch, unzipped it. Unlike Zach, he was organized down to the nth degree and had a neatly folded polo in hand in two seconds flat. He pulled it on and zipped up the suitcase before looking at her. She was studiously looking elsewhere, that pink blush lingering on her cheeks, and, even from five feet away, he thought he could see the mad flutter of her pulse.

“What’s wrong?”

She swung her head around, a frown twisting her lips. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Keelie, it’s past midnight. You’re here. I doubt you’re here to chat. So it makes sense that something is wrong.”

She grimaced and pulled out her phone, checking the time on the display. “Shit. I didn’t . . .”

She trailed off and sighed, moving deeper into the loft and dropping down on the couch with the familiarity of somebody who’d done so more than once.

Jealousy pricked at him, yet again. How often had she been over here to see Zach? Not that it even mattered. Zach had never been for her. It was starting to feel like Keelie wasn’t for him, but that didn’t erase the envy.

His gut knotted up and the dull headache that had started to fade came roaring back to life. Just being around her somehow made him feel like that stupid, goofy kid he’d been in middle school before he’d shot up a few inches and grown into his hands and feet.

She shifted, slid him a quick glance from under her lashes.

His blood pulsed thick and hot, his cock jerking in demand as memories swam up to the fore. He could remember her shooting him that same nervous, shy look more than once, could remember the taste of her mouth, the satin of her skin under his hands.

Out of self-defense, he seated himself at the bar. Far away from her, tucked behind a barrier, where she wouldn’t notice, even if she had been inclined to look.

“You going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said, her voice weary.

Then she looked over at him. “Except for the fact that I’m a total bitch.”

He blinked.

“Ah . . .” Where did this come from?

“Look, you don’t need to respond to that, okay? I know how I am and I know what I’m like. But I was a bitch to you earlier and it’s been eating at me ever since I left the restaurant. I was driving by on my way home and saw the lights—for a second, I thought somebody might have broken in, then I saw the rental car parked out front, realized you were here.”

The words were coming out of her hard and fast, like she had to get them out now or she’d lose them. Zane stayed silent, staring at the surface of the bar. He was hard-pressed, though, not to go over there and cover her mouth with his, cut off that pointless flow of words. She had no reason to apologize to him.

Except for the fact she felt like she needed to.

So he stayed quiet.

“You helped me out of a bad spot, and I know that, I’m sorry . . .”

She finally wound down, huffing out a breath. “I’m sorry, okay?” She smoothed her hands down the front of the black jeans she wore and then stood up. “So, are we good?”

From under his lashes, he studied her.

Good?

No. They weren’t. He couldn’t see her without wanting things that he just couldn’t or shouldn’t want, but that wasn’t her fault. Instead of saying that, he shrugged. “Sure. We’re fine. But there wasn’t any problem on my end anyway.”

Well, there were problems, but he was too tired, too messed up just yet to go into them.

Too likely to haul her against him and finish what they’d started out in the garden a few months ago. Better to wait. Yeah, much better.

She nodded. “Okay.”

She started for the door. Because he couldn’t stop himself, he slid off the stool and trailed along behind her, torturing himself with the scent of her. The sight of her . . .





Chapter Four




“Okay.” She said it again, heading toward the door. “We’re good.”

She hated that he’d pulled the shirt on.

She wanted to have the nerve to go to him, splay her hands wide across a chest that was more delightfully muscled than she could have imagined. Wanted to learn the lines of that tattoo, wanted to learn the feel of his body, the taste, the warmth.

She wished she was the kind of woman who could do that.

It was stupid, really, because sex should be easier than this.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t attracted to her. She knew he was.

But nothing about this was easy. It was even harder, actually, knowing that he was attracted. It made it that much more terrifying.