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“No. I stayed with Charlotte and Samantha.”
He nods, his gaze softening. He lets go of my arm, and it takes an effort of epic proportions not to stare at his bare chest. I want to tell him to go put on a shirt, but that implies I notice and care about his half naked body. So, I don’t.
“You’ve been avoiding me, so we haven’t had a chance to talk.”
“It’s fine.” I shake my head, wishing the floor would swallow me whole. I try to dodge him, again to make a play for the door, but his large body blocks my route for the second time.
He ruffles a hand through his already rumpled hair and sighs. “I don’t even know where to start,” he mumbles. “About the night I brought Teresa home, I—”
“Oh, was that her name?” I ask, hearing the bitterness in my voice. “I’m impressed you remembered.” And because I’m feeling particularly stabby, I add, “Actually, I’m surprised you got a name at all.
Regret passes over his masculine features, hot and sharp.
I glance away from him, reminding myself I shouldn’t care. “Listen, can we not do this? I just . . . it’s fine. Everything is fine.”
He says nothing for a moment, while I stare down at the cup in my hand, and the silence grows.
“It’s obviously not fine or you wouldn’t be avoiding me and running out of here like the room’s on fire.”
“I’m in a hurry, that’s all.” I peek up at him, noting his frown and the crease in his brow that tells me he thinks I’m lying. And because I don’t want him to misconstrue how I’m feeling, I say, “I took a volunteer position working for Helping Hands and I don’t want to be late.”
“Oh.” His gaze softens. “I didn’t know. But that’s . . . amazing,” he breathes before he drags a hand down his face and lets out a half laugh. “Do youhaveto be so fucking perfect?”
My head jerks to his, eyes narrowed on his face. “I’m not perfect.”
As if to punctuate my words, my traitorous gaze drops to his bare chest.
I’m just . . .
Trying to live my life.
Forget about our kiss.
Your hands.
Your tongue.
You.
I swallow, tearing my gaze away. “So, like I said, I’m not avoiding you. I just have somewhere to be.” Both a truth and a lie, but the lie is so thin it’s transparent, and I know he can see through it.
“Okay.” His tone suggests he doesn’t believe me, but I exhale in relief when he steps past me, glad it seems he’s going to let it drop.
His arm brushes mine and the contact sends an electric jolt to my bones. Without thinking, I track his movement, watching him fill a mug and take a sip, even though I should leave. “You don’t believe me?” I ask.
“I mean, you’ve been living here for over two weeks, and I’ve only seen you a few times.”
I have no answer to that, because he’s right.
“Look,” he sets his mug down and grips the counter behind him, causing his muscles to flex in ways that should be illegal. “I just don’t want things to be weird between us.”
“They’re not,” I say a little too quickly, because if it were awkward, it would imply I care about the kissandhim bringing a girl home.
He arches a brow. “I owe you an apology.”
I sigh. “Jace, you really don’t need to do this.”
“For bringing that girl home,” he says, ignoring me. “And for yesterday with the cupcakes. The night on the couch.” He tips his head in the direction of the living room. “All of it.”
