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He closed the space between us in a few quick strides, catching me by surprise when he placed a palm on the wall over my shoulder. Based on his slanted brows, he was as taken aback by his own quick steps to get to me.
He held my eyes, leaning in closer, and I resisted the urge to set my hand on the muscular wall before me, curious if his heart was beating as fast as mine at our proximity.
But when he brought his mouth to the shell of my ear, his breath there had my knees almost buckling. “I wish you’d stop using that lavender body wash.”
Okay, that was unexpected. “You hate lavender, huh?”
“I really fucking do,” he responded in a harsh tone.
I lifted my chin to find his eyes. Not the best idea. His pupils were fully blown. But no way could it be because I turned him on.
How could I? I was his brother’s ex. The girl next door that’d been too young for him half his life.
“Why do you hate it?” I whispered, trying to process this strange moment between us. I felt bound to him, locked in place with nowhere to go.
He quietly studied me, his eyes dipping to my parted lips, and for the life of me, I didn’t know why, my tongue skirted the seam of my mouth.
He seized a deep breath through his nose, and when his chest inflated, it touched mine. Yeah, we were that close.
I shifted my focus and noticed his palm on the wall had converted to a fist, and when I found his eyes again, he slowly released that deep breath.
How long would we remain silently occupying each other’s personal space?
“Ryan,” I murmured, breaking the quiet before I lost my mind. “What’s wrong?”
His eyes fell closed, and his breathing became shallower. I watched as his jaw strained when he pushed away from the wall, freeing me from my captive state. “Sorry,” he rasped, slowly, almost reluctantly, opening his eyes. His pupils still nearly eclipsed the brown.
I finally understood what a writer meant by “his eyes darkened.” And the reaction it provoked inside me . . . holy hell. Were my panties wet?
“Sorry for what?” I kept my back to the wall, unsure if my legs would work to do the whole standing or walking thing without assistance.
“For snapping at you like that.” He faced my desk and gripped the back of his neck.
A vein appeared on his forearm as he squeezed, working at his tension there.
“It’s fine. Not sure what my lavender soap ever did to offend you, but no worries.”
He let go of his neck and slowly turned. His lips were a hard, angry line. Eyes still dark.
“You sure you’re okay?” I slid my hands alongside my arms, catching a chill.
He released another harsh breath before lowering his gaze to his shirt and fixing it back into his pants. For a sailor, I would have expected clean lines, and everything tucked in perfectly like a bedsheet before an inspection by a commanding officer. But I couldn’t help but appreciate the slight wrinkle of imperfection in his clothes.
“Calista’s waiting,” I reminded him. “And I brought you back here for another reason. She wants to use you to make someone jealous.”
He looked up at me. “I’m not going to fuck with some other guy’s feelings like that.”
“You’re using her. She’d be using you. Kind of another favor for a favor, though, right?”
His strong hands went to his hips as he muttered a few more choice swear words at the predicament. “Fine. Anything else I should know?”
I let go of my arms and pushed away from the wall, hoping I could reclaim my balance. “Is it a problem if she’s friends with your brother?”
I lost his eyes to the floor. Was he disappointed? “Has she slept with him?”
Maria was right, wasn’t she? He wouldn’t hook up with someone who’d ever shared a bed with his brother. I didn’t blame him. And I shouldn’t have cared.
So, why do I? Why do I care?
