Razed (Barnes Brothers #2)(23)

Casual sex? She wanted to break out into hysterical laughter. She kept it locked inside by curling one hand into a fist so tight, her nails bit into her palm.

He shoved off the wall and paced closer and her pulse hammered back into that dangerously fast territory as she held his gaze. “Even if I hadn’t kind of outgrown that a while back, I’m not going to sleep with somebody who works with my brother. Who is friends with my brothers . . . who I kind of consider a friend myself. Things get . . . messy there. Especially when I’m already too damned attracted anyway.”

Her breath caught.

His eyes dropped, lingered on her mouth.

“But you also keep giving me this idea that I’m not worth your time, either,” he mused. “It’s getting really confusing, Keelie.”

He reached out.

She caught his wrist.

Against her fingers, she could feel the slow, steady rhythm of his pulse.

Five minutes of your time.

Those words spun around in her head as she stared into his eyes. She had a bad, bad feeling she was in over her head here.

Licking her lips, she stared at him, uncertain what to say, what to do.

Leave. Think it through. Or don’t. Just don’t say anything and don’t talk to him and he’ll get the point. You’ll be nice and safe—

She shut that babbling voice up through sheer will alone.

She was so tired of being nice and safe. It was so lonely.

But she didn’t know what to do.

His lids drooped, shoulders rising and falling on a sigh—something about it sounded despondent, almost like she’d felt inside when he pulled away from her only minutes ago.

He tugged on his wrist. “It’s cool, Keelie. Why don’t you—”

“There’s a coffee shop,” she blurted out, still gripping his wrist, tightening her fingers until he’d have to force it if he wanted her to let go.

His eyes widened, then narrowed on hers.

A knot swelled, then lodged in her throat, and she had to force the words past it. “Across from the shop. There’s this place. They have coffee.”

He cocked his head and, if she wasn’t mistaken, some of the tension seemed to drain out of his body and then, without her quite realizing how he’d done it, he twisted his wrist and freed it. She froze as he reached up to cup her cheek, his thumb pressing to her lower lip. “What about this place that serves coffee, Keelie?”

“I was thinking about going there. Tomorrow.” No. She hadn’t been. But she wasn’t sure what else to do, what else to say. “Maybe you could meet me there.”


*

For the longest time, Zane thought maybe he’d forgotten how to breathe. He also thought maybe he was having an auditory hallucination. Brought on by lust, lack of sleep, lack of decent food—or maybe botulism. Had that ravioli been tainted and he was sick and just didn’t realize it? That would explain why he was hearing what he thought he’d just heard.

Easing in closer, he narrowed his eyes.

On the off chance he hadn’t made this up, he said, “So, this place. You want me to meet you there. For coffee.”

“Yeah.” She angled her chin up.

It made him want to bite her, kiss her, hug her, cuddle her. That cocky, almost brash exterior . . . what did it hide, he wondered? Sweeping his thumb across her mouth, he murmured, “And just why are we meeting for coffee? You just like caffeine?”

“If you’re going to be an *,” she started.

He cut the rest of her words off with his mouth.

She’d answered his question. He’d just wanted a chance. Now, taking advantage of her already parted lips, he slanted his head and licked the inside of her mouth, sliding one hand up to cup her cheek, angling her head back.

With his other hand, he cupped her hip. Only her hip, because it would be so very easy to try for more.

Everything inside him pushed for that.

But he wasn’t going to rush this.

Not this, of all things.

He slid his tongue along hers, growled when she caught him and sucked him just a little. Dark, dirty little thoughts raced through him as he imagined her doing that to his cock. His fingers tightened on her hip and she swayed, leaning closer.

The sound of her moan pierced the fog and he forced himself to end the kiss, bit by bit. His heart was racing when it was done and his muscles were tight with the urge to grab, take . . . keep.

Swallowing, he reached for some level of control. His voice was only the slightest bit rough when he said, “So. Coffee. What time?”

Personally, he wouldn’t be opposed to her just being there when he woke up. They could wake up together, go for coffee later . . . but that wasn’t the way to go and he knew it. Still, it was a sweet, sweet fantasy.

“I have to be in at noon. So I guess a quarter after eleven.” Her face was flushed. Her eyes glittered.

One day, he thought.

One day, he’d get her in front of a camera—and every last picture would be just for him. He wanted to capture this look on her face, that slow, sleepy hunger and that glint of lingering . . . temper? Frustration? He couldn’t quite name it, but it just added to everything that was her, everything that drove him crazy.

“Quarter after eleven.” He went to uncurl his hands, let her go. He’d walk her down to her car. Come back up here. Pace until the heat in his blood cooled.