Page 51 of Pretty Lies

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“Are you snooping through my shit?”

Della laughed, but only because she could hear the amusement in Cory’s tone. Turning from his nightstand with a tablet in her hands, she tried to punch in a four-digit code only to have it give her another error message.

“Well, I was,” she said, “when you were showering. Now, I just wanted to get some music playing because I have no idea how to run your stereo out there. And if I have to stay here all night when you didn’t even offer to smoke with me earlier, the least you could do is make it entertaining.”

Looking up from the tablet to give Cory a sardonic smile just because she could and she enjoyed being a smartass occasionally, Della’s breath caught hard in her chest. Leaning in the doorway of the bedroom, the man had nothing on but a gray towel wrapped around his waist. He rubbed his palms together, whatever lotion that was in his hands smearing over his freshly shaven jaw and down the strong column of his neck. She couldn’t have stopped the traveling of her gaze even if she wanted to.

For the first time, she had a good look at his ink.

The full sleeves made up of eagles, wings, skulls and different flowers. The large chest piece was much like his sleeves in that there was no cohesive theme. Just art everywhere. She bet she could spend a night tracing all of his tattoos and there would still be more to enjoy.

In color. Black and white. The lotus. Piercing bars in both nipples. The ink went down to his navel, a patch of uninked skin peeking out at her above the band of the towel. That fabric hung loosely at his hips—barely holding on at all, really. The railroad path of abs and the cut V of his groin had Della hot in a flash.

God, why?

He truly was the very incarnation of sex for her. Every part of her knew it and that was half the problem. He looked like a drug she could take and have a damn good time indulging, but where was the limit? She didn’t know how to draw lines. What happened if they crossed one?

“You wanna smoke?” Cory asked.

Della’s gaze darted up, and other than the pleased grin curving that sexy mouth of his, he didn’t say a thing about her ogling. “What?”

“Didn’t know you smoked. Not sure if you were the type. You wanna?”

Della’s throat jumped when his hands ran down his throat one last time. “I—”

“Or we can talk about what you found when you were snooping, too. Lady’s choice, babe.”

He winked. Those white teeth of his glinted at her when he flashed them in a sinful smile. She also realized then that the lotion he’d been putting on after his shower had a scent—a heady musk that reminded her of smoke and spice and sex.

His scent, she knew.

Just missing the jacket.

A weaker woman would have dropped to her knees.

Right fucking then.

Della held out.

Barely.

Instead, she decided to play his game because what choice did she have? If he was going to keep her there, she might as well make it worthwhile.

She set the tablet down to the nightstand—they could get music later—and pulled a perfectly rolled blunt where she’d hidden it in her bra. That was, after she found it in his nightstand.

“I already found your stash,” she said, “but I didn’t find much else. A closet of designer names. Box of rubbers in your bedside table. The sketchbook on your dresser was a surprise.”

“I draw as a hobby—I’m not that great at it.”

“You’re not horrible, either. What else?”

Cory chuckled. “My kicks game?”

His shoes, he meant.

Because if she’d been in his closet, she would have had to see those shoes of his. Though she’d only seen him in combat boots or black shoes, the man had piles of them in his closet. All different brands and styles and color. Honestly, they needed their own space because he’d run out of room in his closet.