Razed (Barnes Brothers #2)(41)

But he said he needed a favor.

She didn’t let herself tense up.

She’d stopped trusting guys—if she’d ever trusted them—a long time ago. There were a very, very few exceptions. But . . . this was Zane.

He was watching her with a patient, almost knowing look and she had to fight the urge to cringe as he reached up and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“I seem to have misplaced my glasses. Can you help me find them?”

She blinked.

“Is that . . . that’s all you need?”

He pushed a hand through her hair. “Well, I’d love to find a way to solve world hunger, but I’ll settle for my glasses. For now, at least. And maybe that shower, with you.”


*

It was too warm in the bed, too warm, and too comfortable, and the last thing she wanted to do was move. But the light coming through the windows was shining right in her face.

The light.

That wasn’t right.

And the bed . . .

Swallowing, she let her brain process things for just a few seconds. She wasn’t in her bed. Okay.

She wasn’t naked. That was good.

It was an old terror and one she was starting to think she’d never get past.

But she wasn’t at home either—

Memory surged back.

The airport. Dinner. Zane.

Then Zach—

And . . . Zane again. She’d come over to apologize.

I just want to know if this matters.

His hands on her.

Every moment from the past night slammed into her mind, all too clear, the memory of him all too potent. Especially the feel of his hands on her, the taste of his mouth—and the way he’d looked at her.

He looked at her like she meant something.

And he wanted to know if this mattered?

How could she possibly tell him that this was starting to matter too much?

That he was starting to terrify her, all because of how much this mattered?

Her heart gave one hard, heavy slam against her ribs and she thought maybe all the air in the room disappeared as she let herself ponder that very thing—how much did this matter?

Oh, shit.

Now her heart started to race, too hard, too fast, and she couldn’t pull in the oxygen she desperately needed. Gripping the sheet in her sweaty palm, she closed her eyes tight, squeezed them shut. Get a grip. She had to calm down, because if she rolled over and he was in the bed behind her and caught a look at her now, he’d see everything she was thinking, everything she was feeling, and there was no way she could explain away her sudden, inexplicable panic.

She didn’t entirely understand it, although she knew the root of it.

There were things she wasn’t ready to tell Zane. Not now. Not yet. Maybe sometime. Maybe.

She forced herself to take one slow, shallow breath. When that worked, she managed another and the band around her chest eased. Good. That was good.

Okay. Another breath. Then she popped an eye open. Slowly, she sat up and looked around. The room was empty.

A momentary reprieve.

Swiping a hand through the tangle of her hair, she licked her lips. She could do this. So what if this was the first time she’d ever spent the night through with a guy—and they hadn’t even had sex. She could look at him, face him, talk to him.

Because yes, he did matter.

This mattered.

The cold knot of fear in her chest slowly unraveled and a smile spread across her face.

It mattered.

She mattered.

Without her truly realizing how it had happened, one of those ugly little threads of her past shriveled, snapped, broke. The chains that bound her didn’t lessen all that much, but it was a start. Maybe just a small one, but that didn’t matter.

Keelie had always been good at making do with small bits and pieces.

A second later, the floor creaked and then Zane was there, leaning against the wall, dressed in a white T-shirt and khaki shorts, his face clean shaven, glasses firmly in place.

He looked alert and awake and aware . . .

She just wanted to bite him.

Her mouth started to water.

Heart racing, she stood up and turned to face him. The T-shirt she’d slept in fell halfway down her thighs, but she still felt exposed. Of course, standing there half-naked, facing this guy who had rocked her straight in the most explosive orgasm of her life wasn’t exactly going to make her feel steady.

“Morning,” she said, tripping over the word.

He lifted a brow and then a slow, easy smile curled his lips. “Good morning, Keelie. I called for some food. There’s next to nothing here and I’m starving.”

She licked her lips. “Ah, that’s . . . well, I have to . . .”

“In a hurry?” The bland look on his face made her feel foolish.

She’d spent the night. He’d made her come. Apparently, she’d done the same for him. Then they’d showered. And they hadn’t had sex. She almost felt sort of cheated. If she was going to feel all guilty and awkward, couldn’t they have at least had sex?

“No.” Nervous, she shoved her hair back. “I’m not in a hurry.”

He came toward her. “Good.”

She held still as he reached up, stroking a finger across her lower lip. When he went to lower his head to kiss her, she averted her face. “I haven’t brushed my teeth.”