Razed (Barnes Brothers #2)(92)

You tried to help her. Both of you had done enough to save each other, and yourselves.

Zane’s words drifted to her, and she felt terribly, terribly alone in that moment, in that luxurious suite, surrounded by soft light, sitting on a bed that felt softer than a cloud.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the phone and she reached out, touched it.

Slowly, she traced the edge with her finger.

She needed to see him.

Needed to hear his voice.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she rolled onto her belly.

She didn’t dial his number though.

She initiated that annoying FaceTime thing. She needed to see him.

Not just hear his voice. She needed to see the elegant lines of his face, those cool, blue green eyes.

Seconds ticked by. Her heart slammed.

Her hands started to sweat.

She almost broke the connection—it was taking so long.

And then, there he was.

Her throat locked up.

Her voice was a tight wheeze when she finally managed to say, “Hey.”

A slow smile curled his lips and just like that, the knot inside her chest started to unravel.


*

Zane’s day had been shit.

The past few days had been shit.

But none of that mattered at the sight of her.

Especially once her lids drooped over her eyes and she gave him that slow smile she seemed to save just for him—almost shy, almost nervous. And it wrapped a fist around his heart every single time.

He stared for a few seconds, let the tension inside him drain away before he even bothered trying to talk.

“You changed your hair,” he murmured, stroking his finger over the screen of his iPad, wishing he was touching her instead of that cool, lifeless surface.

“Yeah.” She shrugged, a deprecating look on her face. “Doing something where people seem to think it’s better if you don’t have two-tone hair. It’s going to be boring for a little while.”

“Nothing about you could ever be boring.” If anything, the pale strands, the delicate cut seemed to accentuate her skin, the fine bones of her face. “One of these days, I’m going to get you in front of my camera.”

She made a face at him. “Find a better model. I hate pictures.”

“You’ll break my heart. I’m dying to get a couple of pictures of you . . . just you. Naked.”

She caught her lower lip between her teeth, a slow blush rising up her neck before staining her cheeks. A self-conscious laugh escaped and she muttered, “You’re a damn pervert.”

“No.” She had shadows in her eyes. Too many of them, and all he wanted to do was pull her against him, make those shadows go away. He couldn’t hold her now. But he could make her laugh. Leaning forward, he craned his head like he was trying to see outside the monitor. “If I was a pervert, I’d be doing things like asking you to take off your shirt.” He waited a beat, then smiled. “Keelie . . . would you take off your shirt?”

He could hear the sharp intake of breath, watched the spike of her pupils. “I knew you were a pervert.” Her tongue stroked across her lower lip. “Just why would I do something like that?”

“Because it’s been a little too long since I’ve been able to put my hands on you. Way too long since I’ve seen you naked.”

She laughed, the sound breathless. “You just saw me naked a few days ago.”

“See what I mean?” He focused his attention on her mouth. “If I was there, I’d already be working on taking your shirt off. And kissing you. It’s been way too long since I kissed you.”

“Zane . . .” His name was a ragged burst of sound on her lips, needy and broken.

Then that need exploded through him as well as she leaned back and reached for the hem of her shirt, a skinny-strapped tank top. She peeled it off, slow, oh so very slow, and Zane’s cock started to pulse in time with his heart.

Son of a bitch.

This was a game that he maybe shouldn’t have started.

She tossed the shirt aside and he groaned. “I can’t see you,” he muttered.

She glanced down and then shot him a wicked smile. “I can see me.”

“Evil little brat.” He could see the upper slopes of her breasts, her face. That was it.

It was torture.

It was bliss.

“I want to see you,” he said, demand edging into his voice.

She lifted a hand, trailed it across one of the rose vines that climbed up her breastbone. “I miss you,” she murmured. “How did that happen?”

Caught between staring at her fingers, so slim and pretty, and looking back at her face, Zane had to clear his throat before he could even speak. “I’ve been having that problem for the past couple of years, angel. I spend fifteen minutes around you and then I’m gone for a couple of months—the second I walked away I was already missing you.”

Her mouth parted.

“Fuck, I need to kiss you,” he rasped. “When are you coming home?”

“I . . .” She swallowed, her lashes sweeping down low. “I don’t know. I . . .”

Her hand dropped and she looked around, grabbing her shirt.

Her face disappeared from his view for a minute and when she was again on the screen, she’d pulled the tank back on.