Page 4 of Slide

Don’t look at his muscles!

How long had he been there? Had he been standing behind her the whole time she spoke to her brothers? Just great. Effing wonderful.

She was about to back up and get out of there before he noticed her, when he turned toward her, that damn smirk he often wore—especially when she was in the vicinity—curving his sexy as hell mouth.

“You weren’t going to sneak away without saying hello, now were you?”

Good Lord. The dreams she’d had—of the day and unconscious variety—about that mouth. She mentally shook herself. “How long have you been there?” The words were out before she could zip her damn lips.

He straightened his long lean body, and it was hard but she managed to keep her eyes above his neck and not eat up every inch of him like she was desperate to. God, that feather tattoo on his neck was hot. Stop it, Lucy! How could you want to strangle someone and jump their bones at the same time? That was the question she’d been asking herself for the last ten years. But that’s exactly how she felt about the smug bastard in front of her. She’d love nothing more than to slap that smirk off his face—then drop to her knees and worship the impressive bulge currently straining the zipper of his jeans.

“Long enough.”

Her eyes shot up from his crotch to his now annoyed expression. Why he was annoyed she had no damn clue.

Her spine instantly straightened at the judgment she’d heard in his voice. “Well, whoopee for you. Do you have something to add? Anything my brothers forgot? Do you have the burning need to share your disappointment, your disapproval, at my irresponsible behavior as well?”

He shook his head then he was moving toward her. His movements were slow—hell, predatory. But instead of wanting to run like a frightened woodland creature, she wanted to stay right where she was, fall to her back, expose her throat, and let him devour her.

What is wrong with me? She knew better than to entertain those kinds of pointless thoughts. All they did was keep her trapped in a useless cycle of hope followed swiftly by inevitable pain. Either by his disinterest, his rejection, or seeing him with someone else. She’d experienced all of the above. More than once.

He stopped in front of her. Close. Too damn close. “No.”

She blinked up at him. “No?”

The irritation she’d seen in his eyes a second ago vanished, and the smirk returned. “I have nothing to add.”

She forced a snort. “There’s a first.”

He chuckled, low and dark and rough. And dear God, she felt it. Felt it right between her thighs.

His fingers went to her hair, resting on her shoulder, and he rubbed the strands between his fingers. “I have to ask one thing, though.”

He’d done the same thing four years ago, touched her hair like that. She’d never forgotten; remembered it like it was yesterday. She remembered the way he’d made her feel as well. Another reason she was a damn fool for wanting this man. “I wouldn’t dream of stopping you.”

“Do you plan this shit out, or are you just naturally gifted?”

It took her a second to process what he’d said, the way he was looking at her. He was back to pissed off, and had a growl to his voice that backed it up.

“Naturally gifted at what?”

“At making people fucking crazy. Winding them up, infuriating them…getting under their goddamn skin.”

She jerked back, tugging her hair from his fingers. The way he’d said it, it was obvious he didn’t just mean her brothers. Her heart did a volley of erratic pumps in her chest.

They argued a lot. A lot. And the kicker was, getting him all hot under the collar like this—though she still wasn’t sure what he had to be angry about—only made him sexier. All flaring nostrils, bright eyes, heaving muscles.

Angry Adam was hot, goddamn it. And that just pissed her off more.

“Well, look at that. You did have something to add after all. Feel better now?”

He shook his head again. “Not really, no.”

“I fail to see how my being home affects you.”

He was somehow closer, and she didn’t miss the tic in that strong jaw or the way he swayed even closer still.

His mouth flattened into a grim line. “Baby girl, you fail to see a lot of things.”