Risking it All (Crossing the Line, #1)(32)

a

medium-sized

paintbrush, she stirred the blob of paint.

With a sigh, she stood and approached the wall.

“A purple cat?”

She jumped a little when he spoke from right behind her. He’d moved so quietly. “If you’re already criticizing, this is going to be a long night.”

“I’m not.” He held the bagel to her lips, giving her no choice but to bite. His eyes darkened as she chewed. “Just wondering about your color choice.”

Feeling self-conscious, she took the bagel from his hands. “Purple is the color of royalty. Maybe he’s heir to the kitty throne.”

“You’re putting some thought into this.”

She took another bite to save herself from having to answer. Truthfully, even though talking to him came naturally, she was feeling out of her element. Standing here with this dangerously beautiful man who brimmed with sexual confidence.

This man, with swollen and lacerated hands, who held the paintbrush like an extension of his body, magnetized her like no other.

The glowing lamplight cast shadows around the apartment, and the soft sound of paintbrushes sliding along the wall was in direct contrast with the tension visible in Bowen’s face and shoulders.

Unlike her, not all his tension seemed to be sexual. What took place earlier had obviously affected him greatly, even if he tried to put on a good show for her.

She couldn’t help wanting to ease the burden. As a nurse, she’d been known for her bedside manner. She’d never had the ability to remain emotionally detached when someone was in pain.

She couldn’t leave him suffering in silence, not with her commitment to heal.

“Is Ruby your only sibling?”

He paused mid-stroke. “I’d rather not talk about her.”

“Okay,” she agreed, before trying a different tack. “My brother and I were nothing alike, but we found little things in common. We both liked the old-school version of Tetris. Our tournament lasted five years.” She painted a bow tie on her kitten, remembering the hours they’d spent in the boarding school recreation hall clutching those controls.

“When our ancient Nintendo went belly-up, we pooled our allowance, bought one on eBay, and picked up right where we left off. I was winning when the tournament ended.”

“Why did the tournament end?”

“It just did.” She wasn’t ready to say the rest out loud yet, and his nod told her he sensed it. “Playing Tetris…it was the only time we talked. I wished we’d played more, especially when we got older. When we got too cool.”

Bowen was silent a moment. “With my

sister…things

are

more

complicated.” He tossed the paintbrush down and lit a cigarette. “She’s just too stubborn to see I’m doing what’s best for her.”

“What about what’s best for you?”

When confused eyes flashed to her, she shook her head. Hadn’t anyone ever asked him that before? “I’m sorry, I’ll leave it alone.”

He blew a long, slow cloud of smoke toward the open window. “Tell me what happened to your brother, Ladybug.”

His low, ominous tone dared her to give him anything less than the truth.

“Someone killed him. They never found out

who,”

she

added

quickly.

Uncomfortable with his scrutiny, she got down on her knees and continued painting the bottom half of her cat. She tried to ignore him when he came up behind her, but his calloused hand slid into her hair, tilting her head back so she looked up at him from her kneeling position.

Cigarette still clamped between his teeth, he nonetheless spoke very precisely. “I don’t like seeing you upset.

It makes me want to go out and do something about it.”

Surely he wasn’t offering what she thought he was offering. After only knowing her for a few days? “You can’t.”

“Oh no?” He reached over to the side table on her left and stubbed out his cigarette in a ceramic ashtray. “You’d be surprised what you can do when you’re numb.”

“You’re not numb,” she whispered, rotating around to face him on her knees.

Their provocative position became apparent to her. And she was fairly certain he’d just offered to kill for her.

Unbelievably, her opinion of him hadn’t changed with that fact, even if his expression told her he’d expected it to.

He looked rubbed raw. Full of trepidation… hunger.

Her gaze dropped to the fly of his jeans and her breath caught when she saw the enormous swell pushing against his zipper, inches from her mouth. Her stomach fluttered and contracted at the sight, as if she’d just free-fallen from a great height. Between her legs, a telltale pulse jumped to life, warmth pooling instantly.

“Obviously I’m not numb with you, am I?” Features strained, Bowen pulled lightly on the strands of her hair still wrapped in his fist. “Get off your knees, Sera.”

She made no move to stand. Pain.

There was so much pain in his voice.

She wanted to take it away and appease her own curiosity in the process.

“Look.” He sounded a little desperate now. “Earlier in the hallway, you had your legs wrapped around my waist.