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“I can’t just leave,” I say, because I have no choice. I need to think about how bold I dare become about my past and my brother.
“It’s a weekend, Aria. I don’t want to leave without you. Come with me.”
Come with him. He doesn’t want to leave without me. How do I say no when I don’t want to say no? Will I endanger him? That is my fear, but I quickly reject it. Gio could staff an entire building with the women he’s dated, all of whom are alive and well. Why am I denying myself? Why do I always hide? And the idea of being alone at home, rotting in my own fear, is not a good one. “I have to go by my apartment.”
He arches a brow. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes. Yes, I’ll go with you.”
Something I might call relief I do not expect washes over his face and breaks into one of his perfect smiles. “Good,” he says, stroking my hair. “But there’s no time for you to go home. I called the stores downstairs and they’re bringing you up everything you need, from shampoo to clothes. We’ll have time to shop in Austin tomorrow.”
“No,” I say adamantly. “I need my things, Kace. I have to run by my apartment.”
“Your things will be waiting when you get back. We need to leave no later than two and it’s noon now.”
My eyes go wide. “It’s noon. I slept until noon? I never sleep until noon.”
“You did.” He catches my hand. “Come. I’ll take you to my bedroom. You can shower there.”
He starts down the stairs. I tug his arm. “Kace—”
“Need a lift?”
I blink. “What?”
“You do. I can tell.”
The next thing I know, I’m over his shoulder and he’s walking down the stairs. I laugh and just give in to the moment. “Okay!” I say. “I’ll walk. I’ll stay.”
But he doesn’t stop. He grabs my purse and phone as we walk past the piano and keeps going. I’m not set down on my feet until we’re up a winding set of stairs and inside his bedroom. He plants me on the floor and I lose the grip on my blanket. It falls and I’m naked again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
There’s no time for embarrassment or any other reaction to my nakedness.
Kace tosses my purse and phone behind me to who knows where, and the next thing I know, I’m not just naked, I’m naked and pulled against him, the hard lines of his body absorbing the softer lines of my body. “My God, woman, you’re making me crazy. If I didn’t have this meeting—” His cellphone buzzes with a text and then the doorbell rings. “And that,” he groans, “is what you call bad timing. That will be your delivery.” He snatches up the blanket and wraps it around me but not before his gaze does a sizzling sweep, my nipples puckering beneath his inspection. “I’ll be right back,” he adds and when he would kiss me, I press my fingers to his lips.
“Oh no,” I say, though it pains me to do so. I want his kiss. I want his mouth. “I haven’t brushed my teeth,” I add. “You cannot kiss me right now. Please.”
He tilts his head skyward as if struggling with control before he says, “There’s an extra toothbrush and toothpaste in the middle drawer in the bathroom.” He closes my hand around the blanket, and releases me, stepping back and giving his jaw a scrub, the rasp of a rapidly thickening stubble against his palm. It looks good on him. Is there anything about this man that I don’t find sexy?
Apparently not, because when his hands settle on his hips, my gaze sweeps his tattoos of varied bright colors and I wonder why I have yet to kiss a single one. “The delivery should have everything you need,” he says. “I told them to imagine you’d lost your suitcase in a foreign country and I answered a bunch of questions about you.”
“Questions?”
“Hmm. How do you look? How do you smell? How do you taste?”
My eyes go wide and he laughs. “Not the latter two, but,” he steps into me again and presses his lips to my ears, “the answer is, like candy. You look, smell, and taste like candy.” He kisses my neck. “Brush your teeth. I want to kiss you.” He releases me and disappears from the bedroom, his bedroom where he’s invited me and now left me to use as I wish.
I am reeling from Kace’s touch and his words, really from every moment with him, and now I am in his most intimate of places. I rotate and survey the room, his bedroom. It’s on a corner of the apartment, a half-circle of windows wrapping the space, and delivering the illusion that we are floating on the Hudson River. The bed is to my right, framed by gray wood and a gray cushioned headboard. To my left are a deep navy-blue loveseat and double doors opening to the balcony. And right in front of me, lying on the gray carpet is my purse and phone, which has me laughing. He was so consumed by me being naked that he threw them to the ground.
