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“It’s easiest just to shower off the clay,” he said. “You’re welcome to join me or to wash up out there.”
“I’ll just wash my hands.” My voice came out remarkably level, given the invitation.
“Lesson one about making things work with Aiden,” he began. “You were stiff last night. You were acting.”
“I’m a good actress.” So I’d felt until last night.
“And Aiden and his friends are good at seeing through people. Otherwise, they’d end up dead.” His voice was rich and warm.
“Aren’t you his friend?”
“I’m… more than a friend,” he said. “More like a brother.”
I was deeply curious about their relationship. “That makes sense, since you live in his house.”
“I know you want to scrape away all my secrets.” He sounded amused. “But listen. I’m trying to give you the key to that asshole’s heart.”
“Does he have one?” I dared a glance at the shower. Water streamed over his leanly muscled, perfect body.
But I’d seen plenty of good-looking men in my life. I wasn’t sure why this one made me feel slightly unwound.
I forced myself to study him, taking in every muscle. Behind him was a rainfall shower over a long marble slab, big enough to lie down on, and it made me imagine pushing him into the shower while he was still dressed, pulling his sodden clothes off, and climbing on top of him as the water fell around us…
“Oh yes. Buried under a lot of…” His shoulders rose in a shrug. “Perhaps the key to his heart is too much right now. Let’s start with how not to embarrass yourself.”
“You don’t know what the key is either, do you?”
He flashed me a cheeky grin, swinging his body around enough for me to catch a glimpse of the hard ridges of his abs and the hard cock that rose beneath them—and a glint of metal. I glanced away, biting the inside of my cheek.
He turned the shower off and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist. “Right now, you come across as confident in some ways. But only some. You’re pretty sure of yourself when it comes to murder, aren’t you?”
“Assassination,” I corrected. “It’s only the worst scum of the earth that attracts the attention of the Belladonnas.”
He tilted his head to one side. His dark hair was soaked and looked like he had pushed it back with his fingers, and it was sexy in a careless way. “So you’re the one who chose Gavin Crude as a target?”
“I’m not talking to you about that.” I wouldn’t give away any of the Belladonnas’ secrets.
“Fair enough,” he said, but there was a sudden sharp look in his eyes as if that had told him too much. I had the unsettling sense that as much as he might be the light-hearted artist of the group, he was also quite keen.
And dangerous in his own way.
That should’ve made me shy away, but instead an electric tingle ran across my skin. He was the nice one—but that didn’t mean there wasn’t an edge of danger with him that made me intrigued instead of scared. I wanted to know what made him tick.
“You need to loosen up,” he told me. “To be as confident in yourself as a woman as you are confident in yourself as an assassin.”
“I’m confident in both,” I shot back. I knew how to do my makeup, how to flirt, how to walk in stilettos, how to conceal a knife in a dress that barely concealed my nipples. I knew how to seduce a man—except, apparently, for Aiden Crude.
I didn’t know why I felt so clumsy around him. Maybe it was the way he seemed to see right through me that left me feeling undone.
“Mm.” His lips ticked up, and there was a challenge in his gaze. “Would you let me paint you?”
“Sure,” I said, quickly and recklessly, because I didn’t back down from a challenge. The thought of being under his scrutiny as he painted my portrait was uncomfortable, but the thought of seeing him use his gifts was alluring. From what I’d seen in his studio, he was obviously very talented.
And part of me was curious what he saw when he looked at me.
“Come here,” he said, holding out his hand and drawing me toward him. An electric tingle seemed to pass from his body through mine when he took my hand. I let him pull me toward him into the studio.
He turned his back to me, beads of water trickling down his shoulders to the lean taper of his waist. I glanced away, annoyed by the way he affected me, the clutch of need between my thighs.
